In the silent nights of Tamil Nadu’s red-sand dunes, a tiny spiny ball of life rolls softly through the scrub—guarding the sand dunes, one insect at a time. It is the Madras hedgehog, one of the country’s most overlooked mammals. Also known as the bare-bellied hedgehog, this elusive creature is the southern cousin of the more familiar Indian hedgehog, and is found only in peninsular India, primarily across Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh and parts of Karnataka. Despite weighing just 130-315 grams and having a short lifespan of five to six years, it has mastered survival in some of the harshest and driest landscapes.
The Madras hedgehog’s spines offer protection from predators such as foxes, jackals and mongooses, while its bare, pale belly gives the species its scientific species name, nudiventris. When threatened, it curls into a perfect defensive orb, its quills forming an almost impenetrable fortress. Come nightfall, it becomes a silent wanderer. With poor eyesight but an impressive sense of smell and hearing, it searches for insects, worms, snails and small reptiles. Its diet makes it a natural pest controller—unseen, unsung, yet indispensable.
The species prefers dry scrublands, thorn forests, grasslands and the edges of farmlands. It avoids dense forests, thriving instead in open, sunbaked landscapes scattered with thorny shrubs and sandy soil. In Tamil Nadu, sightings have been reported in 18 districts, including southern districts of Tenkasi, Tirunelveli, Kanyakumari and Thoothukudi, especially in the rare teri red-sand dunes, a habitat now under severe pressure. By day, it shelters beneath shrubs or in shallow burrows. As the heat recedes, it emerges—one of the many nocturnal residents of a world few humans ever witness.
Locally called mulleli, or thorn-mouse, the hedgehog has a small but curious place in Tamil folklore. Some rural communities once believed its quills or body parts could cure asthma or coughs—a misconception that has driven illegal hunting in certain regions. Wildlife officials emphasise that no scientific evidence supports these medicinal claims. Instead, they encourage communities to view the hedgehog as a symbol of resilience—and coexistence—in the drylands.
The Madras hedgehog’s shy and nocturnal nature makes it difficult to study, and its true population remains unknown. Reports, however, suggest a decline in its numbers. Its major threats include habitat loss from agriculture, plantations and wind or solar infrastructure; poaching; road mortality, as hedgehogs are often struck by vehicles at night; data deficiency, which hinders conservation planning; and low awareness, even within wildlife and research communities. Recognising this, the Tamil Nadu Forest Department has recently allocated funds—part of a `1 crore programme—to support research and conservation of lesser-known species, including the Madras hedgehog. “Its survival tells us whether our scrublands still breathe.”
The Madras hedgehog deserves recognition as a conservation icon, given its essential ecological role and its endemic status. By controlling insect populations and aerating soil, it supports the delicate web of life in India’s dry ecosystems.
Protecting it means protecting scrublands and grasslands—habitats often overlooked in policy, yet vital for biodiversity, livestock and rural livelihoods.
The species also fits within the “One Health” framework, linking ecosystem, animal and human well-being. It can serve as an environmental biomarker of the health of southern India’s drylands. Since it depends on soil invertebrates, shifts in its population can reflect soil contamination, pesticide use and ecological decline. The Madras hedgehog does not ask for attention—only a little space, a patch of scrub, and the chance to keep the night alive.
This article was originally published as part of the December 16-31, 2025 print edition of Down To Earth