The Siege of White Deer Park

by Colin Dann

  Badger now pretended to have taken great offence. It suited his plan. ‘And you’re so sharp, aren’t you, Owl?’ he growled. ‘You couldn’t even recognize the creature as being a big Cat!’ He made a great play of looking very hurt and indignant and turned his back on them all.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Fox said angrily to Tawny Owl. ‘Do you have to make even more trouble? As if we haven’t enough to contend with!’

  ‘Well – I – I – never intended . . .’ the bird spluttered.

  When Badger was sure he was hidden by the darkness, he put on speed. He knew he had to act quickly, because he was sure Fox would eventually demand that Friendly lead him and Vixen to the scene of Husky’s capture. He could not simply do nothing. It was not in Fox’s nature. So, armed with only the scant descriptions Pace had given him, Badger trundled forward in search of the copse. His idea was a simple one – to offer himself in exchange for the release of Husky.

  Fox had, indeed, accepted that there was no alternative but to go to help, and at length the four male foxes went on their way. Vixen left Tawny Owl for Badger’s set. She wanted to console him for the hurt she supposed he had taken. The set, of course, was empty. As Vixen emerged from Badger’s dark labyrinth she found Mossy apparently on his way there.

  ‘Is Badger there?’ he asked. He knew who Vixen was.

  ‘No, Oh – you must be –’

  ‘I’m to be known simply as “Mole”,’ he twittered informatively.

  ‘Of course.’

  Mossy began to ask Vixen about Husky. He soon discovered he was another fox. Then he told her what Badger had said about his life being almost over, and how it would have been better if he had been the captured animal. Vixen went cold. She recalled Badger asking Pace for directions. Yes, there was no doubt of his intentions – it would be typical of him. She must stop him!

  She raced away. Her first idea was to use Tawny Owl as her messenger. Wings were faster than legs. But Owl was nowhere to be seen now and she had to trust to her own speed. Vixen was no longer the swift-footed, lithe creature of her youth. She loped along for a while, then eased down to a trot. If she could catch up with the other four, one of the young foxes could be sent on to forestall Badger. But her breathing became laboured and soon she had to stop altogether, her sides heaving, to bring it under control.

  Badger’s lead had been cut considerably by Friendly’s faster pace. But the old animal lumbered on persistently, full of dogged determination. He was not absolutely sure of his destination and, because of this, the foxes on their direct course arrived at the scene first. Friendly led them, with much trepidation, towards the tree where the killer had lurked. Husky’s body lay where it had fallen, all life crushed out of it. Friendly stared at it in horror and disbelief. The others surrounded him.

  Fox looked at his dead grandson. He remembered, with a sharp pang, another occasion when he had found one of his own cubs in just such a state. The only difference this time was that the body was full grown. And there were no marks on it.

  Pace and Rusty were looking fearfully up into the tree. No sound, no sign hinted at the presence of the hunter. The Cat had done its work and had moved on – who knew where?

  Vixen was next to arrive. Fox looked at his mate without speaking.

  ‘Are – are we too late?’ Vixen whispered. Then she saw the still form of Husky.

  ‘He never had a chance,’ Fox rasped. He was racked by helpless, impotent anger. ‘I will get even,’ he intoned in a growl to himself.

  Vixen understood. She could find nothing to say. Her heart ached.

  ‘It was a desire to get even that began it all,’ Friendly muttered. ‘I didn’t think – oh how ignorant I was!’

  ‘Let’s get away from here,’ Rusty suggested. The sight of Husky’s body frightened him. He knew how easily it could have been himself lying there.

  ‘Yes – it’s a hateful place,’ said Fox.

  ‘We must wait for Badger,’ Vixen said hurriedly as they began to move.

  They looked at her questioningly. ‘He – he thought he could help,’ she explained lamely. There was no need now to go into detail.

  ‘So that was why he wanted the directions,’ Pace remarked. ‘Dear old Badger – this is no quarrel of his.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Fox told him surprisingly. ‘Any quarrel of mine has always been Badger’s too. He’ll soon tell you that.’

  Badger came at last, grunting, and out of breath. He saw, in his turn, the young animal he had set out to save. ‘It really has gone too far now, hasn’t it?’ he muttered.

  ‘But what are we to do, Badger?’ Friendly wailed.

  ‘Wage a war,’ was the old animal’s reply. His voice suddenly seemed to have lost its wheeziness. It sounded crisp, assertive and younger.

  ‘I tried,’ said the fox. ‘Look what I’ve achieved.’

  ‘You should not have acted alone,’ Badger admonished him. ‘There are those who are wiser and more experienced than yourself. They should have been consulted.’ He named no names.

  The Farthing Wood Fox spoke. He was unaccustomed to finding himself put in the shade by Badger and he admired his resolution. ‘Well, old friend,’ he said, ‘this isn’t the first time we’ve faced danger. Where do we begin?’

  Vixen did not like the tone the talk was taking. She saw the cause as hopeless. ‘How can you begin anywhere?’ she cried. ‘How can you fight an enemy you can’t see and know nothing about? None of us, separately or together, is a match for this beast.’

  ‘Are we to wait about then, all of us, to be picked off one by one?’ Fox demanded. ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Vixen. ‘But I don’t want any more deaths either.’

  ‘Deaths are inevitable,’ Fox declared. ‘There will continue to be killings until this threat is eradicated.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve changed,’ she told him. ‘You said yourself, before, we shouldn’t meddle . . .’

  ‘Yes, I’ve changed,’ Fox admitted coldly. ‘That pathetic sight at the foot of the tree changed me.’

  Vixen knew her mate. His mind was made up. Now, she feared, there would be no end to their troubles. She clung to one faint hope. Human intelligence. Somehow the Warden would find the Big Cat before they did.

  The animals left the copse. Fox was already formulating ideas for a campaign. He would need all the help and support he could muster – not just from the old community of Farthing Wood, but all their dependants; all the birds he could find willing to scour the Reserve by day and night; the other larger mammals of the Park – every creature who could play a part. Before anything else they had to locate the Cat and note its movements; otherwise there might be a massacre. How he wished he could count on the strength of the white deer herd. The stags, with their antlers grown, would be formidable contestants. But they were out of the reckoning now, bottled up in one corner in a fruitless attempt by Man to frustrate the Beast’s activities.

  They reached their home territory. ‘Put the word about,’ he told the other foxes. ‘All the animals in the park must be united in this. I want to have any slightest clue reported. Whistler and Owl must speak to the birds. We ourselves must assemble in the Hollow tomorrow at dusk – every one of us. That includes the vixens. Every animal will be needed. We must involve everyone from the largest to the smallest. We all know the risks. But risks are preferable to subjection. And that’s what we’re experiencing.’

  Fox was his old self. Like Badger, he seemed suddenly to have thrown off the seasons. He was a leader again. The younger foxes marvelled and ran off unquestioningly to do his bidding. Fox waited for Tawny Owl to put in an appearance and, when he did, told him what he wanted. Owl recognized the urgency in his voice and the note of command. He respected Fox above all others and bowed to his authority. He noticed Badger watching and regretted that they were at loggerheads.

  ‘Oh – um – Badger,’ he hooted, ‘you know, I never meant to – um – give the impression – er – well, tha
t you –’

  ‘It’s all right, Owl,’ Badger called up to him. ‘Think nothing of it. We’re all apt to say things at times.’

  ‘Thank you, Badger,’ said Tawny Owl in an unusually humble manner. ‘Are we still friends?’

  ‘Oh, Owl,’ said Badger. ‘Have we ever been anything else?’

  Tawny Owl gave a hoot of pleasure and flew away.

  At dusk on the following day the Farthing Wood animals gathered with their kindred. Whisper, Husky’s mother, had been told of his death and was near the front of the gathering. The other vixens, among them Charmer and Russet, Friendly’s mate, were there too. Fox explained how the entire Reserve must be alerted. Together they could drive the stranger from their home. Whisper’s loss was alleviated a little by the proposal for action. She wanted to have a leading role in avenging her cub.

  Over the next few days and nights, the animals and birds of White Deer Park became aware that all of them were to be part of a concerted move to restore their habitat to safety. Despite day-to-day differences which arose from the natural order of things, they realized that on this issue they were as one. All of them knew of the existence of the stranger and feared it. They had needed something to be done and had only lacked a leader. Now in Fox they had been given one: a co-ordinator for their scheme. They were glad – and relieved – to be doing something positive. So all over the Reserve the animals and birds kept watch at all times for a sign of the Cat. They waited for it to make a move, some by day and some in the darkness.

  Each night the Warden or another man patrolled near the deer pen, unwitting allies of the animal community. For a while there was nothing to report. There were no more killings. This lapse was unexpected. Had the Beast gone away of its own choice? Or was it using its cunning again to lull them into a false sense of security?

  The deer still at loose in the Park were aware of their vulnerability and kept constantly on the move, never staying in one area for long, and ranging through the whole of the Reserve. One of them was found near the pen one night and persuaded, with the use of a stick, to join its fellows. Then the gate was securely fastened again behind it.

  The deer herd did not relish their confinement. They had no escape route if their attacker should decide to put in an appearance by day. They suspected that the Cat could vault the enclosure and create havoc amongst them if it should choose. They felt unsafe and had no faith in the humans’ ability to protect them. They would have preferred to take their chance and roam free when they at least had the use of their legs to run from danger. However, it was soon proved that they were not to be the target, but the one deer still at large.

  Somehow the Cat had eluded every effort to locate it. Of course there was nothing to stop it going in and out of the Park at will, and none of the animals was quite sure just what its movements were. It never allowed even a hint to come their way. Then at last the solitary hind was stalked and pulled down as she drank by the stream in the evening. The Beast was hungry and ate a hearty meal, leaving part of the deer well hidden amongst a mass of waterside vegetation for its return later. The kill was not witnessed, but the carcass was discovered by a moorhen paddling about amongst the reeds. Whistler was soon made aware of it and gradually the Park heard that the Beast was back in action. They tried again – keeping eyes peeled, ears open for a clue.

  Meanwhile the Warden had come to the realization that the ruse of penning the deer was not going to work. The hunter was too clever to come near and there was no benefit to the deer themselves, who were becoming fretful and difficult to feed. So the barricades came down and the nightly vigils were ended. The deer ran free again and exulted in the feeling. The Warden was reduced to tramping over the Reserve again in daylight hours. He was becoming convinced that the threat was over. Fox and his associates knew better.

  ‘It’s beaten us again,’ he complained to Vixen. ‘How does it manage it?’

  ‘It’s a superior creature,’ she answered. ‘Superior in cunning, superior in hunting, superior in every way. Husky’s name for the Beast was “Stealth”, and stealth is the essence of the animal. It has a sort of stealth that we cannot begin to understand.’

  ‘And with all of us – every animal around – out looking for it! The humans are beaten too. Where does it go?’

  With the deer herd available again as an unlimited food source, the Cat had no need to return to the place of its last kill. So the motley collection of birds and animals who had that corner under special scrutiny had no reward for their pains. However, at last a sort of clue did emerge from an unexpected source.

  Adder had not encountered the surprising she-viper again. After their first meeting he had not felt that he had given a very good account of himself and he wished he could put that right. He felt she had somehow got the better of him and he could not feel comfortable about it. As time went on he did not think a lot about her but when he did she still intrigued him.

  The weather was now quite warm. All the trees were in leaf; there was new greenery everywhere. Adder had his favourite spots for basking and one of these was a piece of sloping ground, not a great distance from the stream. It was well screened by fronds of bracken. The bed of last year’s brown dead fern fronds underneath him made the ground warm and, among the new fast-growing green shoots, Adder delighted to indulge himself, particularly after eating. He had thought this place was his and his entirely. But one day, after swallowing a vole and feeling very sleepy, he had slid into the spot, only to find another occupant. This did not please him and he said grumpily, ‘How long have you been coming here?’ He was talking to the she-viper.

  She stared at him in the snake’s usual unblinking way. But her tongue tested Adder for smell. ‘Oh – the scarred one,’ was her response. ‘But no,’ she added. ‘Am I mistaken? Or have the wounds healed?’

  ‘Of course they’ve healed; they were only scratches,’ Adder hissed. ‘And you haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘Coming here? Not very long. I found this spot by chance.’

  ‘Did you though? Well, I might tell you that I’ve been sunning myself here without interference from another for as long as –’

  ‘I’m not going to interfere with your habits,’ she interrupted. ‘There’s plenty of room for both of us.’

  ‘I like solitude,’ Adder asserted. (As soon as he had said it he wondered why he had.) ‘And I have a prior claim.’

  ‘You make yourself understood,’ the female replied drily. ‘I take the hint. There’s plenty of room in the Park.’ She uncoiled herself and began to slide away. Before she disappeared she said, ‘You may like to know, Solitude-lover, that this isn’t necessarily the safest of places for you.’

  Adder checked her departure. ‘How do you mean?’ he lisped.

  ‘I mean that, in view of your previous tussle, you possibly wouldn’t want to risk another one.’

  ‘Are you referring to the Cat?’

  ‘Indeed I am,’ she answered. ‘I know for a fact that it sometimes uses a large hole in the bank by the water’s edge for concealment. The hole is well covered and not many know about it. Who can say if the creature is there now?’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Adder asked, thinking of the way all the inhabitants of the park had been baffled by the stranger’s secrecy.

  ‘Quite by accident,’ the female snake informed him. ‘It can only be seen from the stream and I happened to be following a frog.’

  ‘But why haven’t you told anyone?’ Adder demanded. ‘I assume you’ve been involved in the general alert?’

  ‘But I have told someone now, haven’t I?’ she answered disarmingly. ‘Because I thought you needed to know.’

  Her final remark had scarcely registered its message before she was gone. Adder was left to brood in his solitude, unsure whether he was glad or sorry she had left. He felt strangely restless. He had never experienced uncertainty about himself before.

  Adder did no sunbathing that day. He pulled himself together and set off for
the stream, but with the she-viper’s caution very much in his mind. He wanted to investigate the lair in the bank. Once in the water, Adder felt he was safe. He swam in one direction, close to the edge of the stream, looking for places where the vegetation was thickest. He saw no hole large enough for the Cat to get into so, despite his feeling of chill, he swam across to the other bank and reversed his direction. He was becoming colder and colder and his movements slower and slower. He knew he would soon have to abandon the stream and search for warmth. Then he saw it – a dark opening in the bank almost obscured by reeds and rushes. He could see at once that its cavernous depths would easily accommodate a whole group of animals. Adder swam on by. He was not such a fool as to approach any closer. The darkness of the hole would comfortably hide whatever creature might be inside it.

  When he was far enough away from the lair, the snake slid from the stream and up the bank. He was quite torpid from the cold, and allowed himself to revive in the sun’s warmth, only a metre or so from the water. When he was ready, he rippled away at his swiftest pace to carry the news of his sighting. He was hoping to find Whistler the heron before anyone else. The bird could act as his messenger.

  He found him without difficulty, and quickly explained about the hole in the bank and of its importance. He said nothing of the she-viper, but only that ‘another animal’ had given him the clue. It seemed that Whistler had no idea that the hole was there.

  ‘I look downwards at the water, you see,’ he told Adder, ‘so I’d be looking the wrong way.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the snake. ‘The hole faces the stream so, unless you could swim, you wouldn’t discover it.’

  ‘Well,’ said Whistler, ‘at last we’ve got something to get to work on. I’ll tell Fox.’

  Adder composed himself to wait, while the tall bird spread his wings. Fox received the information with grim satisfaction.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now we’ll gather as many together as we can and we’ll have the resources to beard our friend in his own den.’