by Colin Dann
He waddled shakily back into his set. How glad he was that his home was now so close to that of Fox and Vixen. Should he need help they would be a great comfort. ‘I mustn’t worry them unduly, though,’ the old animal decided. ‘I don’t wish to be a burden. I shall keep going for as long as I can. I’m glad I helped with the rats and did my bit, even if it’s going to prove to be my last contribution. Oh, we’ve had such happy times together, all of us, and exciting ones too. Dear Fox, dear Vixen . . . and good old Owl. One couldn’t have had better companions. Such staunch friends and allies . . . Adder and Weasel too . . . my, my, what a brave band we made.’ He sank down in his warm sleeping-chamber, feeling especially drowsy. ‘I must simply sleep for longer, I suppose,’ he murmured. ‘I need the extra rest. When I wake next time I’m sure to be much more refreshed. Oh dear, so old, so old . . . .’
Fox and Vixen were distant at this time, gathering what food they favoured amongst the tiny creatures drawn forth by the weather. Grubs, worms and beetles were easy to come by and Vixen pounced on a shrew. While they were absent from the home wood another animal, a stranger, entered it, looking for a resting place. She had been driven from her own territory by the abundance of rats. While not daring actually to attack such a large animal, they had, by their swarming presence, made her own home area uninhabitable. The animal was a young sow badger who had been brought up in what had once been a deserted set near the Park Pond. She was fully mature now and needed her own home. She paused by an entrance to the Farthing Wood Badger’s set. She was attracted by the comfortable smell and promise of shelter. This was her main preoccupation. Food wasn’t a problem. She listened and smelt carefully at the tunnel. She heard Badger’s snores dimly reverberating in the interior. She detected easily enough there was only one occupant. This in itself was strange – and even more so considering it was evening, when most badgers were abroad on essential errands. The young sow was curious and inquisitive. She took a few paces inside the set. One of her own kind would surely not drive her away. She would be cautious and respectful and friendly and . . . if the other animal was inclined to be friendly too, perhaps she would be granted a little niche of shelter as a temporary arrangement. She crept forward. The snoring was closer now.
In Badger’s snug sleeping-chamber the young female found the ancient creature deep in sleep on his bedding of dry leaves and grass. She recognized his smell. She had encountered him before on his rambles around the Reserve and she knew at once who he was – the Farthing Wood Badger. But to herself and all the others of their kind in White Deer Park he was known simply as the Old Badger. She was delighted by her discovery. Badger’s reputation was such that she knew she had nothing to fear from him – indeed could expect only kindness.
‘I know you live alone and always have done so,’ she said to the recumbent animal. ‘My mother once offered you a share of our set. You were too proud to accept. Now it’s the other way round. I wonder how you’ll feel about a homeless creature begging for a place of repose in your home.’
It was a while before she found out. Badger’s snores continued unabated for a time. Then, whether he had slept enough or whether he sensed some kind of disturbance, the old animal eventually stirred and at once detected her presence.
‘Who’s there?’ he cried out, instantly alert.
‘Only one who has nothing but the warmest regard for you,’ the sow replied.
Badger sniffed the underground air vigorously. He didn’t recognize her scent and he certainly wasn’t familiar with her sound. ‘What are you doing in my set?’ he asked quietly without any accompanying challenge.
‘Hoping for a shelter,’ came the reply.
‘From a little rain?’ he chided her.
‘No. From being made homeless.’
Badger digested this reply thoughtfully. He was only too familiar with the misery of being without a home, having been in such a position himself. ‘Tell me how it happened,’ he said gently. ‘And – you may come in and settle yourself a little while you’re doing so.’
‘You’re very kind.’
‘Well, well, we’ll see about that. What badger are you?’
‘One from the once-abandoned set by the Pond. I’m called Frond.’
‘I know that set. Are you – ’
‘One of the cubs whose mother once offered you shelter,’ she anticipated him.
‘Yes. I thought so. You’re welcome then, for a spell, for the sake of that gesture,’ Badger told her. ‘Now tell me your story.’
‘Easy to tell. My family have all dispersed. We were ousted.’
‘By the rats?’
‘Yes,’ Frond said sadly. ‘The pressure was impossible to withstand. They simply overran us.’
‘I understand and you have all my sympathy. We’ve had our brushes with rats, too, but you’ll have some peace here, at least for a while. We have a sort of uneasy truce with them.’
‘The “we” being you and your fellow travellers from that distant place?’ Frond summed up.
‘Yes. You know about us?’
‘Of course I do. Doesn’t every creature in the Park? I know you’re the Old – I mean, the Farthing Wood Badger,’ Frond corrected herself in mid-speech.
Badger was tickled by her slip of tongue. ‘Oh yes. I am old,’ he grunted. ‘So old I can’t even collect my food tonight.’
Frond eagerly offered her services. ‘Please let me help you,’ she begged. ‘In return for the shelter you’re offering me, the least I can do is to bring you something to eat. Are you quite unable to move?’
‘Not quite,’ Badger answered. ‘But I’m very, very tired.’ He enlarged on the brushes with the rats. ‘Did too much, you see, Frond,’ he finished by saying. ‘Forgot my age. Now I only want to sleep.’
‘I’ll go at once,’ Frond told the Old Badger. ‘I’ll bring you back enough for a feast; you wait and see. And for the moment I’ll disturb your slumbers no more. I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion but – oh! how glad I shall be to rest free from those scurrying rodents.’
Frond’s diligence in her task of foraging kept her active well after the dark hours. She was collecting such an assortment of delicacies that it was doubtful if a whole family of badgers could have eaten it all, let alone one weary and ancient animal with a waning appetite. She took her catches to the foot of a tree, a little at a time, returning regularly with fresh contributions so that the pile grew and grew. In the early morning light, unknown to Frond, a pair of onlookers watched her proceedings with interest and commented to one another.
‘Whatever can she be doing?’ Dash asked her favourite companion, who, until a few moments previously, had been enjoying a game of something like hide-and-seek with the young hare.
‘Food-gathering, of course,’ Plucky said. ‘But not in a way I’ve ever seen our Badger do it.’
‘Where has she come from? I’ve never seen her before. Shall we speak to her?’ Dash continued in her curiosity.
‘Let’s watch for a bit longer,’ suggested Plucky. ‘I’m interested to see what she’s going to do with all that food.’
The young sow badger returned to her dump with some plump roots of wild garlic she had dug from the wet soil. She examined the miscellaneous assortment and appeared to think there was sufficient. Then she picked up a wriggling knot of worms in her teeth and set off along the short distance to Badger’s set entrance. Plucky and Dash were astounded.
‘This is very strange,’ said the fox. ‘She’s actually going inside Badger’s set! Where is he? He can’t have vacated it!’
‘He’s not – he’s not – ’ Dash couldn’t say what was in her thoughts but Plucky understood well enough.
‘Surely not!’ he whispered. He looked thunderstruck. ‘We must find out. Come on, Dash.’
As they galloped to the set, Frond emerged again from it and, seeing them rush towards her, stood stock still.
‘Where’s Badger? Where’s Badger?’ Dash shrilled.
Frond backed a couple of s
teps, feeling herself under threat. ‘He’s inside munching the worms,’ she answered tremulously. ‘He’s all right. I’m trying to help him, really I am.’
Plucky and Dash skidded to a halt, relief flooding over them. ‘So the pile of food back there is for him?’ Plucky guessed.
‘Of course. He’s very weary and, since he’s being kind to me, offering me shelter, I’m doing what I can to repay him.’
‘But I – we’ve never seen you before,’ Plucky remarked. ‘How long have you known our Badger? How long has this arrangement been running?’
Frond relaxed and answered brightly, ‘It’s only just begun.’ She explained how she had arrived in the wood and discovered what she had believed at first might be an empty set. ‘Are you Farthing Wood animals too?’
‘No. White Deer Park born and bred,’ said Plucky, ‘but related.’ He looked at her approvingly. ‘Badger should consider himself lucky,’ he commented, ‘to have such a young and willing helper. You’ve collected enough food for him for days.’
‘I hope so. I don’t think he should move much for a while. He’s quite plainly exhausted himself. But, of course, I have to eat too, so my efforts are not entirely unselfish. Anyway, I’m more than happy to do whatever I can for him. It’s hateful to be without shelter. For a creature who’s used to being solitary like the Old Badger, he’s being very generous to me.’
‘He’s not solitary,’ Dash protested. ‘He has a host of friends.’
‘But he’s never shared his home before,’ Plucky reminded her. ‘Well, give the dear old fellow our greetings,’ he said, turning again to Frond. ‘Tell him Plucky and Dash wish him soon amongst us again.’
‘“Plucky and Dash”,’ Frond repeated. ‘Nice names.’
‘What’s yours?’ Dash enquired.
‘Frond. I hope we may be friends.’
‘I hope so too,’ said Plucky.
Frond turned to pick up more food. Suddenly she froze. ‘Look!’ she hissed.
Under the trees the tall figure of the Warden approached slowly. He was searching every step of the way for the source of those pests left so conspicuously on his own threshold. He carried a torch which he swept over the ground. Its beam raked every metre of the wood bottom for a clue, first in this direction, then in that, then in yet another. Plucky knew at once what was the man’s purpose. Before the three animals scattered he said with satisfaction, ‘Fox’s ruse worked. He set something in train that won’t end until the rats are rooted out to the very last one.’
16
The Poisoned Bait
It wasn’t quite that simple. To begin with, the Warden’s checks had so far only brought to light more dead rats. He knew perfectly well that if there were dead rats in the Park, there would most certainly be live ones too. But tracing them was another matter. He contemplated putting out dressed bait, but the difficulty with that was that grain or seed might attract the wrong animals, and the last thing he wanted was to poison small creatures such as voles and wood mice and shrews, whose existence in White Deer Park he wanted to safeguard. It was a knotty problem. He knew rats, generally speaking, liked to nest in the vicinity of water. He had made evening excursions to the stream-side and to the Pond but had never managed to be around when any of the rats were drinking. He had a feeling that the rats had infiltrated the area of White Deer Park when his interest had been principally with the new reserve, and he blamed himself for not being more circumspect. His ambition was for the two reserves under his jurisdiction to be united, and negotiations with the owners of the intervening land were at an advanced stage. But, before that highly desirable object could be attained, the Warden knew that White Deer Park must be cleansed of any threat of disease.
His searches continued without success for some days; then, at last, just as the Farthing Wood animals had conjectured, a young rat crossed the man’s path in a reckless evening excursion for food. The Warden was able to avoid detection by the animal long enough to trace it to its nest. Now there would be some point in baiting the rodents. He thought it unlikely smaller animals such as mice would wish to approach a rat colony, where they would very probably be attacked. So it would be safe to leave some grain close to the nest since only rats would be likely to give it any attention. The man lost no time in making the necessary preparations. His cottage was only a short distance from where he had sighted the careless rat and he suspected this nest was the source of the rat carcasses discovered near his home. He couldn’t wholly account for the collection of dead rats in his garden and could only surmise they had all suffered from eating items disagreeable to the rat stomach. In fact the whole episode was really a mystery to him.
The poisoned bait was destined to achieve nothing. The Warden was unlucky enough to have traced the very colony where some of the most experienced rats of the entire horde were, for the moment, making their homes. Amongst these was Bully, and he was all too familiar with every human endeavour to combat his own kind.
The young rat whom the Warden had spotted running over ground was the first to find the tempting receptacle of grain. He had the sense to report the strange object to Bully, whose whiskers twitched angrily as he listened.
‘Leave it untouched,’ the big rat shrieked. ‘All of you, listen to me. The humans are on our trail. They’ll put down all kinds of innocent-looking items with the most delectable appearance, the most appetizing smells, even. I tell you, these things are DEATH! We don’t need any assistance from our kind, interested humans, do we? We can look after ourselves, can’t we? And I tell you (and you know I have the requisite knowledge) that, so long as we ignore any cache of food that appears suspiciously suddenly in a place where the last time you looked there wasn’t anything, there is nothing they can do to us. No, nothing! We’ve been battling with humans through the ages and, don’t you think, in all that time, we haven’t learnt a thing or two? Oh yes, my friends. We know all about their cunning, sly tricks. But we have cunning, too. And that’s why we’ll evade every measure they take. Trust me, friends, we have the measure of them. Take the word round to be on guard. Now, more than ever, we mustn’t slip up. It’s almost time for that last big push that’s going to see White Deer Park fall into our grasp.’
So the poison failed to do its task. It lay untasted where it had been put and the rats continued to thrive. Youngsters in the various colonies were growing fast and Bully watched their progress with keen satisfaction. Soon the adult numbers would be boosted by this new generation – young, well-fed and strong – and then there would be no need to hold back any longer.
The Warden shook his head over the state of things. How was he to get to grips with the threat? From the number of dead rats he had discovered around the Park, he knew that the resident animals were fighting the unwelcome strangers: fighting for space, for food supplies, for their homes. He was deeply concerned about his charges’ welfare. The white deer themselves were just as much in danger as the rest. Now he must fight, too, to protect and preserve the Park from calamity. The situation required urgent and specialist action, but he would need to know that an extermination squad would be able to operate without putting the lives of the Reserve’s rightful inhabitants at risk. Would that be possible? The Warden fretted over the dilemma. And while he fretted, the animals of Farthing Wood had relaxed in the lull in fighting, consoling themselves with the knowledge that the man in whom they had such faith was putting matters to rights.
It hadn’t taken Adder long to discover the mutilated body of Sinuous, because the hole under the rock was one of his own places of concealment, to which he returned frequently. He was shocked by the sight of the dead she-viper. He knew at once what had occurred: there was the body of the dead Brat beside her! He was horrified to think that in some way he himself was to blame for the event. His discovery was made even more horrible by his belief that he had made Sinuous safe at the time of the ambush. She had been saved from that, only to invite the rats’ revenge upon herself later. Adder knew the attack had been meant for hi
m and he felt a double sense of guilt because he had escaped while Sinuous had been killed.
‘I’m to blame for this,’ he hissed. ‘She had no quarrel with rats, except through our friendship.’ It was a word he didn’t allow himself to use often, preferring not to admit of any real feeling for a fellow creature. That was the snake’s way. But first Toad and now Sinuous were lost, and Adder’s sorrow on these occasions had been unfeigned. In a way his feelings surprised himself. He began to realize that previously he had been putting up a front that had had some elements of sham about it. He stared at the still body. ‘I mustn’t talk about this,’ he lisped morosely. ‘It puts me in a bad light. The others will think I deserted Sinuous, which I never intended to do. Oh, those evil rats! It would have been better if they had really vented their anger on me – as they thought they had. It was I who had declared war on them, not she.’
He kept apart from the other Farthing Wood animals, remaining alone and dispirited. His own wounds healed. A bitter anger glowed in his reptile’s heart for the rats’ deed. He knew there must come a final confrontation and, when it did, he wanted to be in the thick of it. He would go down fighting, along with the friends left to him; for he was of the opinion that all their days were numbered and that, in due course, only rats would dwell in what had once been called White Deer Park.
The other animals remarked on Adder’s continued absence. Could anything have happened to him?