The run was broad, smooth and dry. It was obviously a highway, for other runs branched off it in all directions. The rabbits in front went fast and Hazel had little time to sniff about as he followed. Suddenly he checked. He had come into an open place. His whiskers could feel no earth in front and none was near his sides. There was a good deal of air ahead of him-he could feel it moving-and there was a considerable space above his head. Also, there were several rabbits near him. It had not occurred to him that there would be a place underground where he would be exposed on three sides. He backed quickly and felt Pipkin at his tail. "What a fool I was!" he thought. "Why didn't I put Silver there?" At this moment he heard Cowslip speaking. He jumped, for he could tell that he was some way away. The size of the place must be immense.
"Is that you, Hazel?" said Cowslip. "You're welcome, and so are your friends. We're glad you've come."
No human beings, except the courageous and experienced blind, are able to sense much in a strange place where they cannot see, but with rabbits it is otherwise. They spend half their lives underground in darkness or near-darkness, and touch, smell and hearing convey as much or more to them than sight. Hazel now had the clearest knowledge of where he was. He would have recognized the place if he had left at once and come back six months later. He was at one end of the largest burrow he had ever been in; sandy, warm and dry, with a hard, bare floor. There were several tree roots running across the roof and it was these that supported the unusual span. There was a great number of rabbits in the place-many more than he was bringing. All had the same rich, opulent smell as Cowslip.
Cowslip himself was at the other end of the hall and Hazel realized that he was waiting for him to reply. His own companions were still coming out of the entrance burrow one by one and there was a good deal of scrabbling and shuffling. He wondered if he ought to be very formal. Whether or not he could call himself a Chief Rabbit, he had had no experience of this sort of thing. The Threarah would no doubt have risen to the occasion perfectly. He did not want to appear at a loss or to let his followers down. He decided that it would be best to be plain and friendly. After all, there would be plenty of time, as they settled down in the warren, to show these strangers that they were as good as themselves, without risking trouble by putting on airs at the start.
"We're glad to be out of the bad weather," he said. "We're like all rabbits-happiest in a crowd. When you came over to see us in the field, Cowslip, you said your warren wasn't large, but judging by the holes we saw along the bank, it must be what we'd reckon a fine, big one."
As he finished he sensed that Bigwig had just entered the hall, and knew that they were all together again. The stranger rabbits seemed slightly disconcerted by his little speech and he felt that for some reason or other he had not struck the right note in complimenting them on their numbers. Perhaps there were not very many of them after all? Had there been disease? There was no smell or sign of it. These were the biggest and healthiest rabbits he had ever met. Perhaps their fidgeting and silence had nothing to do with what he had said? Perhaps it was simply that he had not spoken very well, being new to it, and they felt that he was not up to their fine ways? "Never mind," he thought. "After last night I'm sure of my own lot. We wouldn't be here at all if we weren't handy in a pinch. These other fellows will just have to get to know us. They don't seem to dislike us, anyway."
There were no more speeches. Rabbits have their own conventions and formalities, but these are few and short by human standards. If Hazel had been a human being he would have been expected to introduce his companions one by one and no doubt each would have been taken in charge as a guest by one of their hosts. In the great burrow, however, things happened differently. The rabbits mingled naturally. They did not talk for talking's sake, in the artificial manner that human beings-and sometimes even their dogs and cats-do. But this did not mean that they were not communicating; merely that they were not communicating by talking. All over the burrow, both the newcomers and those who were at home were accustoming themselves to each other in their own way and their own time; getting to know what the strangers smelled like, how they moved, how they breathed, how they scratched, the feel of their rhythms and pulses. These were their topics and subjects of discussion, carried on without the need of speech. To a greater extent than a human in a similar gathering, each rabbit, as he pursued his own fragment, was sensitive to the trend of the whole. After a time, all knew that the concourse was not going to turn sour or break up in a fight. Just as a battle begins in a state of equilibrium between the two sides, which gradually alters one way or the other until it is clear that the balance has tilted so far that the issue can no longer be in doubt-so this gathering of rabbits in the dark, beginning with hesitant approaches, silences, pauses, movements, crouchings side by side and all manner of tentative appraisals, slowly moved, like a hemisphere of the world into summer, to a warmer, brighter region of mutual liking and approval, until all felt sure that they had nothing to fear. Pipkin, some way away from Hazel, crouched at his ease between two huge rabbits who could have broken his back in a second, while Buckthorn and Cowslip started a playful scuffle, nipping each other like kittens and then breaking off to comb their ears in a comical pretense of sudden gravity. Only Fiver sat alone and apart. He seemed either ill or very much depressed, and the strangers avoided him instinctively.
The knowledge that the gathering was safely round the corner came to Hazel in the form of a recollection of Silver's head and paws breaking through gravel. At once, he felt warm and relaxed. He had already crossed the whole length of the hall and was pressed close to two rabbits, a buck and a doe, each of whom was fully as large as Cowslip. When both together took a few slow hops down one of the runs nearby, Hazel followed and little by little they all three moved out of the hall. They came to a smaller burrow, deeper underground. Evidently this belonged to the couple, for they settled down as though at home and made no objection when Hazel did the same. Here, while the mood of the great hall slowly passed from them, all three were silent for a time.
"Is Cowslip the Chief Rabbit?" asked Hazel at length.
The other replied with a question. "Are you called Chief Rabbit?"
Hazel found this awkward to answer. If he replied that he was, his new friends might address him so for the future, and he could imagine what Bigwig and Silver would have to say about that. As usual, he fell back on plain honesty.
"We're only a few," he said. "We left our warren in a hurry to escape from bad things. Most stayed behind and the Chief Rabbit was one of them. I've been trying to lead my friends, but I don't know whether they'd care to hear me called Chief Rabbit."
"That'll make him ask a few questions," he thought. "Why did you leave? Why didn't the rest come? What were you afraid of? And whatever am I going to say?"
When the other rabbit spoke, however, it was clear that either he had no interest in what Hazel had said, or else he had some other reason for not questioning him.
"We don't call anyone Chief Rabbit," he said. "It was Cowslip's idea to go and see you this afternoon, so he was the one who went."
"But who decides what to do about elil? And digging and sending out scouting parties and so on?"
"Oh, we never do anything like that. Elil keep away from here. There was a homba last winter, but the man who comes through the fields, he shot it with his gun."
Hazel stared. "But men won't shoot a homba."
"Well, he killed this one, anyway. He kills owls too. We never need to dig. No one's dug in my lifetime. A lot of the burrows are lying empty, you know: rats, live in one part, but the man kills them as well, when he can. We don't need expeditions. There's better food here than anywhere else. Your friends will be happy living here."
But he himself did not sound particularly happy and once again Hazel felt oddly perplexed. "Where does the man-" he began. But he was interrupted.
"I'm called Strawberry. This is my doe, Nildro-hain.[7] Some of the best empty burrows are quite close. I'll sho
w you, in case your friends want to settle into them. The great burrow is a splendid place, don't you think? I'm sure there can't be many warrens where all the rabbits can meet together underground. The roofs all tree roots, you know, and of course the tree outside keeps the rain from coming through. It's a wonder the tree's alive, but it is."
Hazel suspected that Strawberry's talking had the real purpose of preventing his own questions. He was partly irritated and partly mystified.
"Never mind," he thought. "If we all get as big as these chaps, we shall do pretty well. There must be some good food round here somewhere. His doe's a beautiful creature, too. Perhaps there are some more like her in the warren."
Strawberry moved out of the burrow and Hazel followed him into another run, leading deeper down below the wood. It was certainly a warren to admire. Sometimes, when they crossed a run that led upward to a hole, he could hear the rain outside, still falling in the night. But although it had now been raining for several hours, there was not the least damp or cold either in the deep runs or in the many burrows that they passed. Both the drainage and the ventilation were better than he had been accustomed to. Here and there other rabbits were on the move. Once they came upon Acorn, who was evidently being taken on a tour of the same kind. "Very friendly, aren't they?" he said to Hazel as they passed one another. "I never dreamed we'd reach a place like this. You've got wonderful judgment, Hazel." Strawberry waited politely for him to finish speaking and Hazel could not help feeling pleased that he must have heard.
At last, after skirting carefully round some openings from which there was a distinct smell of rats, they halted in a kind of pit. A steep tunnel led up into the air. Rabbit runs tend to be bow-shaped; but this was straight, so that above them, through the mouth of the hole, Hazel could see leaves against the night sky. He realized that one wall of the pit was convex and made of some hard substance. He sniffed at it uncertainly.
"Don't you know what those are?" said Strawberry. "They're bricks; the stones that men make their houses and barns out of. There used to be a well here long ago, but it's filled up now-the men don't use it any more. That's the outer side of the well shaft. And this earth wall here is completely flat because of some man thing fixed behind it in the ground, but I'm not sure what."
"There's something stuck on it," said Hazel. "Why, they're stones, pushed into the surface! But what for?"
"Do you like it?" asked Strawberry.
Hazel puzzled over the stones. They were all the same size, and pushed at regular intervals into the soil. He could make nothing of them.
"What are they for?" he asked again.
"It's El-ahrairah," said Strawberry. "A rabbit called Laburnum did it, some time ago now. We have others, but this is the best. Worth a visit, don't you think?"
Hazel was more at a loss than ever. He had never seen a laburnum and was puzzled by the name, which in Lapine is "Poison Tree." How could a rabbit be called Poison? And how could stones be El-ahrairah? What, exactly, was it that Strawberry was saying was El-ahrairah? In confusion he said, "I don't understand."
"It's what we call a Shape," explained Strawberry. "Haven't you seen one before? The stones make the shape of El-ahrairah on the wall. Stealing the King's lettuce. You know?"
Hazel had not felt so much bewildered since Blackberry had talked about the raft beside the Enborne. Obviously, the stones could not possibly be anything to do with El-ahrairah. It seemed to him that Strawberry might as well have said that his tail was an oak tree. He sniffed again and then put a paw up to the wall.
"Steady, steady," said Strawberry. "You might damage it and that wouldn't do. Never mind. We'll come again some other time."
"But where are-" Hazel was beginning, when Strawberry once more interrupted him.
"I expect you'll be hungry now. I know I am. It's going on raining all night, I'm certain of that, but we can feed underground here, you know. And then you can sleep in the great burrow, or in my place if you prefer. We can go back more quickly than we came. There's a run that goes almost straight. Actually, it passes across-"
He chatted on relentlessly, as they made their way back. It suddenly occurred to Hazel that these desperate interruptions seemed to follow any question beginning "Where?" He thought he would put this to the proof. After a while Strawberry ended by saying, "We're nearly at the great burrow now, but we're coming in by a different way."
"And where-" said Hazel. Instantly Strawberry turned into a side run and called, "Kingcup? Are you coming down to the great burrow?" There was silence, "That's odd!" said Strawberry, returning and once more leading the way. "He's generally there about this time. I often call for him, you know."
Hazel, hanging back, made a quick search with nose and whiskers. The threshold of the burrow was covered with a day-old fall of soft soil from the roof above. Strawberry's prints had marked it plainly and there were no others whatsoever.
14. 'Like Trees in November"
Courts and camps are the only places to learn the world in… Take the tone of the company that you are in.
The Earl of Chesterfield, Letters to His Son
The great burrow was less crowded than when they had left it. Nildro-hain was the first rabbit they met. She was among a group of three or four fine does who were talking quietly together and seemed to be feeding as well. There was a smell of greenstuff. Evidently some kind of food was available underground, like the Threarah's lettuce. Hazel stopped to speak to Nildro-hain. She asked whether he had gone as far as the well pit and the El-ahrairah of Laburnum.
"Yes, we did," said Hazel. "It's something quite strange to me, I'm afraid. But I'd rather admire you and your friends than stones on a wall."
As he said this, he noticed that Cowslip had joined them and that Strawberry was talking to him quietly. He caught the words "never been near a Shape" and a moment later Cowslip replied, "Well, it makes no difference from our point of view."
Hazel suddenly felt tired and depressed. He heard Blackberry behind Cowslip's sleek, heavy shoulder and went across to him.
"Come out into the grass," he said quietly. "Bring anyone else who'll come."
At that moment Cowslip turned to him and said, "You'll be glad of something to eat now. I'll show you what we've got down here."
"One or two of us are just going to silflay,[8]" said Hazel.
"Oh, it's still raining much too hard for that," said Cowslip, as though there could be no two ways about it. "We'll feed you here."
"I should be sorry to quarrel over it," said Hazel firmly, "but some of us need to silflay. We're used to it, and rain doesn't bother us."
Cowslip seemed taken aback for a moment Then he laughed.
The phenomenon of laughter is unknown to animals; though it is possible that dogs and elephants may have some inkling of it. The effect on Hazel and Blackberry was overwhelming. Hazel's first idea was that Cowslip was showing the symptom of some kind of disease. Blackberry clearly thought that he might be going to attack them and backed away. Cowslip said nothing, but his eerie laughter continued. Hazel and Blackberry turned and scuttled up the nearest run as though he had been a ferret. Halfway up they met Pipkin, who was small enough first to let them pass and then to turn round and follow them.
The rain was still falling steadily. The night was dark and, for May, cold. They all three hunched themselves in the grass and nibbled while the rain ran off their fur in streams.
"My goodness, Hazel," said Blackberry, "did you really want to silflay? This is terrible! I was just going to eat whatever it is they have and then go to sleep. What's the idea?"
"I don't know," replied Hazel. "I suddenly felt I had to get out and I wanted your company. I can see what's troubling Fiver; though he'll get over it, I dare say. There is something strange about these rabbits. Do you know they push stones into the wall?"
"They do what?"
Hazel explained. Blackberry was as much at a loss as he had been himself. "But I'll tell you another thing," he said. "Bigwig wasn't so far wron
g. They do sing like the birds. I was in a burrow belonging to a rabbit called Betony. His doe has a litter and she was making a noise over them rather like a robin in autumn. To send them to sleep, she said. It made me feel queer, I can tell you."
"And what do you think of them, Hlao-roo?" asked Hazel.
"They're very nice and kind," answered Pipkin, "but I'll tell you how they strike me. They all seem terribly sad. I can't think why, when they're so big and strong and have this beautiful warren. But they put me in mind of trees in November. I expect I'm being silly, though, Hazel. You brought us here and I'm sure it must be a fine, safe place."
"No, you're not being silly. I hadn't realized it, but you're perfectly right. They all seem to have something on their minds."
"But after all," said Blackberry, "we don't know why they're so few. They don't fill the warren, anything like. Perhaps they've had some sort of trouble that's left them sad."
"We don't know because they don't tell us. But if we're going to stay here we've got to learn to get on with them. We can't fight them: they're too big. And we don't want them fighting us."
"I don't believe they can fight, Hazel," said Pipkin. "Although they're so big, they don't seem like fighters to me. Not like Bigwig and Silver."
"You notice a lot, don't you, Hlao-roo?" said Hazel. "Do you notice it's raining harder than ever? I've got enough grass in my stomach for a bit. We'll go down again now, but let's keep to ourselves for a while."
"Why not sleep?" said Blackberry. "It's over a night and a day now and I'm dropping."
They returned down a different hole and soon found a dry, empty burrow, where they curled up together and slept in the warmth of their own tired bodies.
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