I remember well my first porcupine encounter. I was just a wee nipper on a family outing up north. Mom, dad, my brother and I were strolling through the woods when we heard a baby crying.

I mean it was really wailing. Mom nearly freaked out wondering what might be unfolding out there in the middle of nowhere. Racing to the scene we could find no infant in distress. Then another wail pierced the air but strangely it came from overhead. There in the treetop was a presumably love sick porcupine singing her best siren song.

There are several dozen porcupine species worldwide but only one here in North America.  Weighing in at up to 35 pounds, it is the third largest rodent in the world, following the South American capybara and American beaver. They are a cold climate creature, living across the forested regions of Canada, Alaska and the northern U.S.
Their notorious quills are actually modified hairs covered with keratin, the same stuff that nails, claws, hooves and such are made of. As many as 30,000 quills are situated on the back, side and tail interspersed among the normal hair. They are attached in the skin musculature and easily come out. When threatened, porky keeps its back toward the enemy with tail poised to strike.  If approached, a swat of the tail leaves dozens of quills embedded in the attacker. No, they can’t throw quills though some may fall out.

Even if the attacker avoids the tail, grabbing porky anywhere on the upper body gets the same result. To further get the point across, the quills have tiny barbs that anchor them in the flesh.  In addition, body heat makes the hollow quills swell up ensuring the enemy forever remembers its grave mistake. It can even be fatal, either from the quills working into vital organs or if a mouthful prevents eating.

Few predators are willing to risk taking on a porcupine. One exception is the fisher. This giant member of the weasel family keeps circling around the porcupine until it gets a clear shot at its head and then makes a lightning strike to the nose. The fisher repeats this until the porky wears down, then flips it over onto its back and finishes it off from the quill less belly.

Porcupines aren’t swift of foot, only managing a slow shuffle. As they can be so easily caught they are considered a top emergency survival food throughout their range. Though most states and provinces don’t provide them legal protection, in remote regions it’s an unwritten outdoorsman code that thou shalt not needlessly kill a porcupine. Of course, that doesn’t apply to the one chewing up the outhouse for the salt. They also relish leather and plywood for the salt used in manufacturing.

They eat twigs, buds, berries and bark from trees so porkies are excellent climbers.  Unfortunately, the most delectable stuff is out at the wispy tips of limbs and falls are frequent. Then that coat of spears becomes your worst enemy and they are often impaled by their own quills. Not to worry. Antibiotics in their skin prevent infection and they recover fine. One might think all those daggers would put a whole new meaning to “wowie” during mating but the female can lay the quills flat and harmless.

Experts say the flotation from their hollow quills make porcupines excellent swimmers. This is only partially true. One time I was bear hunting on a lake in British Columbia and saw what appeared to be the head of a swimming grizzly bear. As we approached in the boat my bear morphed into a porcupine. As he neared shore curiosity about their buoyancy got the better of me. I pushed him just slightly under with an oar. He instantly turned into a waterlogged, drowning rat. With just his nose barely out of the water he huffed and puffed and struggled. I quickly got the oar under him and boosted him onto shore but so much for the quill life jacket. And what do you call a group of porcupines?

A pickle, of course.

Carpe diem.