by Colin Dann
‘What of the rest of the Reserve? Is it to be sacrificed?’ asked Dash, who, more than any other animal, ranged the entire acreage.
‘There are other fighting animals here besides us,’ Fox replied. ‘They too must battle to preserve what they have. The rats are a menace to each and all. We can’t fight any battles except those for ourselves. We must all stick together in this small corner and defend one another. Until the Warden returns we are on our own.’
The animals were buoyed up by a renewed commitment to each other. They left the Hollow sadly but with determination that no more of their number should suffer Toad’s fate. Vixen was the last to leave. As the others turned their backs and moved slowly away, she tenderly nosed Toad’s body into a clump of fern where he was soon hidden from sight. She scraped some dead leaves around him. ‘Whoever caused you to suffer,’ she murmured, ‘will regret it. You’ll be avenged, I promise.’
Badger headed for the more mature woodland where he had once had his set. It was close to the wreck of his old den that Mossy had his network of tunnels. Badger hadn’t seen the mole for quite a while and he wanted very much to reassure himself that the little animal was all right. The old creature trotted along with his rather lumbering gait, thinking dire thoughts of what he would do to any rat that dared disturb his friend. Badger noticed that the tree which had crushed his old set still lay where it had been toppled by the hurricane. He stood in contemplation. ‘If I had been at home when that happened,’ he muttered, ‘I should be . . .’ He didn’t finish. He shivered. ‘I’m lucky to be alive still,’ he told himself. ‘I’m so ancient I sometimes wonder how I’ve managed to survive for so long.’ He found one of the set’s entrance holes still unblocked. He worked his way inside and began to call out for Mossy, whose labyrinthine system of underground passages interconnected at a nearby point.
‘Mole! Mole! It’s Badger! Are you there?’ He stopped to listen. All was quiet. ‘Mole! Mole!’ he wheezed throatily. A fit of coughing overtook him. Badger gasped and spluttered for breath. A scrabbling sound was audible. Mossy was coming along one of his tunnels to investigate.
‘Oh, Badger, it’s you,’ he cried joyfully as soon as his long snout and front feet protruded from the end of the passage. Mossy’s eyesight was very poor but he could smell the warm, comfortingly musty scent of Badger’s coat.
‘Now, listen, Mole,’ Badger said almost severely, without any greeting, so eager was he to make the smaller animal understand, ‘you shouldn’t come looking for intruders. Because, you see, I could have been a rat, couldn’t I?’
Mossy was amused. ‘You a rat? That’s silly.’ He tittered. ‘I heard you calling me. At least – I thought what I heard was your voice and I came running. And now I see I was right.’
‘Yes, yes, that’s all very well. But you must keep yourself hidden. Don’t give yourself away, that’s all I ask. Rats are cunning, nosy creatures. And, given the slightest chance or hint of an opening, they’ll barge in. You should block up this hole for a start.’
‘If you think so,’ said Mossy. ‘I don’t actually expect any rats to come searching for me.’
‘No, no, perhaps not. I hope not, certainly. But they like to make their nests and so on underground and your tunnels would be ideal, wouldn’t they?’
Mossy considered. ‘Too small,’ he pronounced. ‘And too narrow.’
‘There’s no harm in being extra cautious,’ Badger told him. ‘I’d be happier if I knew you would keep out of sight. I suppose there’s no problem with food?’
‘None.’
‘Good, good. So you have all you need. Worms a-plenty, hm?’
‘I’ve quite a stock of them. Would you like, perhaps, to – ’
‘No. No, I wouldn’t.’ Badger refused the offer he knew was coming. ‘You’ll need every last one. I’m not hungry. I just wanted to be sure you understand the difficulty and the danger we’re all in. That’s why I came.’
‘Thank you, Badger,’ Mossy said gratefully. ‘I’ll do as you say. Will you come again when the danger’s past?’
Badger didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t think the danger would pass, unless the Warden returned to take control. The Farthing Wood animals were so few and the rats so many. He was very despondent but he didn’t want Mossy to know this. ‘How I wish we were still neighbours, so that I could keep an eye on you,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider abandoning your run of passages and making some fresh ones alongside my new set?’
‘Impossible,’ Mossy replied. ‘I have a family to look after. Didn’t you know?’
‘Oh!’ Badger exclaimed. ‘That’s news to me. Of course there’s no question, then. Well, Mole, you are a sly one. I really knew nothing of it. I do forget quite a lot, it’s true, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have forgotten that. Such an important thing too. I wish you well and I must stress once again, then, that you must be doubly careful.’
‘You can depend on it.’
‘I must go back,’ Badger said. ‘There’s work to be done. I’ll be back when the time is right; that’s all I can say just now.’
‘I understand,’ said Mossy. ‘Badger, do look after yourself. I ask you as you ask me.’
‘Of course I will, my dear Mole. You can count on that. I’ve weathered every crisis and every storm that’s come my way.’ He thought of the fallen tree. ‘I’m a – a stayer,’ he emphasized. ‘Yes, that’s what I am.’
Satisfied that Mossy was in no immediate danger Badger hastened back to join the others. Fox, Vixen, Friendly and Charmer were hunting in a group, Badger was informed by Weasel. ‘The rats are on the run here,’ Weasel added. ‘They’re streaking away from this corner in droves.’
‘Only to regroup elsewhere, I fear,’ was Badger’s comment. ‘We mustn’t let our vigilance slip for a moment.’ He noticed blood on Weasel’s flanks. ‘But you’re wounded, surely? Is it bad?’
‘No, not bad,’ Weasel assured him. ‘We must expect to sustain some scratches and bites. The rats are fighters, I’ll give them that. I had three of them hanging on me while I dealt with another one. I got rid of them all, though.’
‘You killed them?’
‘You bet I killed them,’ Weasel growled.
‘Good. The rats know we mean business. There’s no-one like you for a scrap. I’ll leave you, Weasel. I want to play my part in this.’
‘Don’t overexert yourself,’ Weasel advised. ‘You’re not as nimble as you once were; none of us are.’
‘I still have my teeth left,’ Badger joked. ‘That’s all I need.’ He vanished into the darkness.
Meanwhile Tawny Owl was making the most of the situation. As the foxes rooted out the rats and drove them before them, snapping viciously at the fugitives, Owl saw his opportunity. It was impossible for the foxes to catch all the rats as they fled, and the bird descended again and again, pouncing on the scurrying rodents with his outstretched talons. Some of the game he carried back to Holly and the nestlings. Some he left lying where they had dropped to feast on later himself. Just as the younger rats made an ideal food supply for his offspring, so did the larger, tougher rodents suit his own appetite. Holly was pleased with his efforts.
‘You’re a good parent,’ she complimented him as she tore off mouthfuls to feed to her brood. Every so often she swallowed some of the meat herself. ‘I always knew you were a great hunter when I used to watch you quartering the gardens for mice at Farthinghurst.’
Tawny Owl preened himself briefly. ‘There’s never been a glut of food quite like this,’ he told her. ‘We can all fill our stomachs many times over.’
‘The youngsters are putting on weight nicely, aren’t they?’ Holly fluted, and then she was struck by a thought. ‘You’re taking food too, I hope? This is a tiring business for you, ferrying supplies to and fro, and we can’t afford for you to wear yourself out.’
Tawny Owl was pleased by her concern. ‘Don’t worry about me, I can look after my needs,’ he answered loftily. He thought of all the f
reshly killed rats he was going to eat and relished the prospect. ‘I just take a morsel now and then, you know, between flights. Of course the little ones come first.’
Holly positively glowed after these words. What a selfless, diligent mate she had chosen! The wily Owl flew away with her praise ringing in his ears, full of glee at her ingenuousness. He sped to his larder on the ground and gulped down three rats, one after the other. ‘Wear myself out,’ he chuckled. ‘There are no worries on that score, my beloved Holly. The day hasn’t yet dawned when Tawny Owl doesn’t manage to feather his own nest!’
Over the next few days the Farthing Wood animals pursued their campaign of ridding their home area of the rat infestation with some success. They began to see rats less and less frequently attempting to return to their own particular corner. Any rat that did put in an appearance was instantly removed. The foxes led the attack, night after night, never pausing to eat more than a fragment of food. Badger and Weasel backed them up, as did Tawny Owl, who, more than any of the others, continued to ensure that he enjoyed the fruits of his hunting forays. By day Whistler became an efficient ratter. The thought of Toad was never far from his mind as he patrolled the stream’s banks to keep the watercourse free. Even Adder sought out the nesting females when he could and, if there were young in the nest, gobbled them up. Many a female rat too fell victim to the snake’s poison. Adder’s aim was to help reduce the rat population’s potential to produce future generations. Sinuous, the she-viper, sometimes joined him in his expeditions. Throughout White Deer Park the hunting beasts and birds strove to save themselves and their territories from being overrun, yet it seemed that, as fast as they cleared one colony of rats from their midst, another appeared to replace it. It was as though all the rats from miles around were clustering with the sole intention of snatching White Deer Park from the rightful inhabitants.
12
A Chance for Plucky
Fox and Vixen had not forgotten their young relative in the other reserve. They had been preoccupied with the recent events surrounding Toad’s death and the rats’ appearance in the hallowed meeting place of the Hollow. However, Fox was conscious that Plucky had been left in limbo for too long. He cudgelled his brains to think of a way to get the young fox back to the Farthing Wood fold. At the same time Plucky himself had been active on his own behalf.
The Warden of White Deer Park had spent a lot of time overseeing the transfer of the excess Park animals into the new enclosure. This had come to an end and he was now principally interested to see how these creatures adapted to their new surroundings. He wanted to know about their nests and burrows and if youngsters were being raised. He wanted to know where they settled in this strange environment and how they spread themselves throughout the area; he wanted to know if they found food and, if they did, whether their diet was sufficient and broadly similar to what they had enjoyed before. His main object was to see that the animals, having been disturbed and removed from all that they were familiar with, were able now to accept this upheaval and, in spite of it, to continue to thrive. Plucky saw and easily recognized the man on his tours of the enclosure. The Warden visited each day, directly from his cottage, and Plucky took care to note where and when he entered this new Park.
The tall double wooden gates set into the enclosing wall were the very same through which Plucky and all the other animals had been brought by van. Here the Warden would open a little latch door set into the right-hand gate and step through, closing it behind him. Plucky was quite familiar with this procedure. He knew the little door opened on to the way home. The difficulty was that it was never left ajar. Moreover, a wide cattle-grid was set into the road just a few metres from the double gates on the Park side. No creature had been able successfully to negotiate this. The grid was bordered by a low fence and there was simply no way to circumvent it. Plucky had pondered the possibility of leaping over the grid from the road but it was just too long a jump for a small animal such as a fox to perform. Then eventually another idea occurred to him.
Occasionally the Warden arrived not on foot, but in his Land Rover. Plucky was interested in this vehicle. He recalled only too well how he had been transported from White Deer Park in a similar sort of machine. He thought to himself that, if one machine could carry him, so could another. The Land Rover was usually parked just inside the double gates, which were then immediately closed behind it. Plucky knew that he could never reach the vehicle when it stood there, because of the cattle-grid. But he had watched the Warden’s movements so closely and so regularly that he was well aware that the man had to turn the vehicle in order to return home in it. There was only one turning point and this was on the other side of the cattle-grid, where the fence ended and a flat stretch of grass verge made the manoeuvre very simple. Plucky, screened from view behind his usual vantage point – a thick mass of broom – thought long and hard about a way in which he could turn this manoeuvre to his own use.
One day, as he watched the Warden’s habitual procedure with the Land Rover, Plucky noticed there was a way into the vehicle through the back, which was open. His heart beat fast with excitement. If only he could get himself inside, the Warden would do the rest for him: get him over the cattle-grid, through the double gates and beyond the perimeter wall, where he could scramble clear and lie low until the man and his machine had disappeared. Plucky could think of nothing else, once this possibility of escape had presented itself. For days he kept to the same small area, noting the Warden’s comings and goings, but never once did the man arrive except on foot. Plucky grew impatient. He continued to feed himself, drink when he was thirsty, sleep fitfully, but mostly he thought about Dash and all his other friends and relatives who he considered had all but abandoned him. And he longed to see the Land Rover again.
At last Plucky heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine one early morning while he was dozing in a dry ditch. He leapt up and cautiously moved towards the enclosure road. He saw the gates being opened. The Warden’s Land Rover, its engine idling, was on the other side. The Warden drove through and parked in the selfsame spot as always. Plucky could barely contain himself. He tried to keep calm. He knew it might be well on in the day before the man completed his round and returned. He lay doggo; alert, tense and ready to make his bid for freedom.
Towards midday the Warden could be seen trudging back along the road towards his vehicle. Plucky wriggled as close as he could to the turning place without revealing himself. It seemed an age before the man was once more in his Land Rover with the engine started. Then the wheels slowly rolled forward, clattering loudly over the thick metal bars of the grid. The vehicle began its turn. As the back of it was swung round, Plucky, keeping close to the ground, ran forward. With the turn almost completed the driver accelerated slightly. Plucky knew it was now or never. A moment’s hesitation and he would be too late. Just as the vehicle was about to re-cross the grid, the young fox galloped up and, taking a flying leap, fairly crashed inside the back of the Land Rover, sprawling on top of an assortment of objects. The fox was shocked and badly winded but he had one enormous piece of luck. The noise and jolt of his landing was naturally and very fortuitously obscured by the jarring and rattling of the wheels as they rumbled over the cattle-grid again. The Warden was totally unaware of his passenger. He stopped the car. Plucky flattened himself against the floor, gasping and panting, as the great doors were opened and then closed behind him. The Land Rover began to move forward more quickly. A few moments later Plucky bounded free and half fell, half rolled, over the verdure of the open downland. He was bruised and battered but once more at liberty. The Warden drove on unsuspecting. A little later Plucky recovered, shook himself and set off for the boundary fence of White Deer Park.
Tawny Owl was looking very sleek. Holly remarked what a handsome bird he had become. ‘Fatherhood agrees with him,’ she told herself, and indeed, as far as his duties of procuring food were concerned, it did. Owl had acquired such a taste for rats that he rarely ate anything else
these days. Every time he swallowed a kill he felt he was doing his bit for the community and so, of course, it was logical for him to swallow as many as he could. As he perched in a young oak, dozing in the sunshine as was his usual habit, Plucky re-entered the Reserve. The young fox had found Dash’s scrape under the fence and had eagerly scrambled through. He longed to see his friend again and ran to the favourite spot where they had played together before their separation. Plucky barked Dash’s name excitedly, expecting the hare to come bounding into view. But she didn’t appear. This area was too distant now from the Farthing Wood animals’ territory. Instead of Dash, Plucky found Tawny Owl, who awoke, grumbling about being disturbed by a fox’s barks.
‘Yap, yap, it’s always the same with you youngsters; you’ve no consideration for your elders who might need a sleep more than you do.’ He hadn’t recognized Plucky. He was still in a semi-somnolent state.
‘Tawny Owl!’ Plucky cried joyfully, ignoring the bird’s protestations. ‘It’s me, Plucky! Don’t you have a word of greeting for your long-lost friend?’
Owl peered down, blinking his great eyes and trying to focus them better in the sunshine. ‘Plucky? But you – I mean, how have you – ’
‘Escaped?’ Plucky finished for him. ‘I used my wits and the cunning I inherited. Oh, but it’s marvellous to see you here and to know I’m back where I want to be, with all my friends. I’ll tell you all about my adventure soon, but first, I want to know how things have been here. Is Dash safe?’
‘Yes, Dash is safe,’ Owl replied. ‘But the Park has been overrun by rats. It gets worse and worse as time goes on, and one of our number, a dear old friend, hasn’t survived.’
‘Who? Who?’ Plucky yelped anxiously.