In the Path of the Storm

by Colin Dann

  Instantly he soared upwards despite his throbbing sides, enjoying the supreme luxury of spreading his wings in the free fresh air; in unobstructed and limitless space. He looked around him as he rose higher in the air. Human faces pressed against the glass, watching his progress in admiration, almost in envy. Envy of the supreme freedom of the flight of a bird.

  The man said: ‘That’s the first time an owl has been seen in Farthinghurst. You must remember this, children.’

  ‘And he chose us to visit,’ said the girl. ‘Look, here are some of his feathers.’

  Tawny Owl flew on. Hunger and thirst were forgotten as he flew over the houses, the blocks of flats, the shops. For he knew now that beneath him was what was once Farthing Wood. Its soil, its plants, its roots lay under this man-made wilderness of concrete and brick and metal. And he knew it was Farthing Wood because there was just one remnant of it still existing. The remnant was a tree: a solitary, isolated but massive beech. Tawny Owl had recognized it at once as its great sweeping branches beckoned to him like welcoming arms which longed to draw him into their lonely embrace. This great beech, which now straddled the boundaries of two identical plots on the estate and therefore belonged to nobody, was the very same beech which had served as a meeting-point for the animals of Farthing Wood as they had embarked on their hazardous journey. It was from beneath this very tree, that now enfolded Tawny Owl in its rich greenery, that their long trek had begun. And this was all that the industrious humans and their machines had allowed to stand of Farthing Wood.

  8

  Holly

  THE BEECH’S GENEROUS cover hid Tawny Owl for the rest of the day. He didn’t dare to venture forth again even to moisten his parched mouth. He waited. And he thought.

  He thought of his carefree days in Farthing Wood before the humans had come, when he had been so much younger. He thought of the other creatures who had lived there who had become his travelling companions first and then his trusted friends. What feelings would they experience were they to join him at the Great Beech now? How their world had changed! Yet, oddly enough, Owl didn’t feel sentimental about his old home. That life was too far back in the past. He found himself thinking more about White Deer Park. He was surprised at himself. And what surprised him most of all was that he actually felt homesick for it.

  By twilight Tawny Owl had come to the conclusion that he had made a mistake coming to this place. It was barren. Barren of hunting opportunities and barren of company. When he felt ready for it he would begin the flight back. In the meantime his ordeal in the house had exhausted him and he needed to get his strength back.

  Under cover of darkness he sought water. A garden pond soon provided him with that. Food, however, would be a problem. Then he remembered what the black cat had said about mice. So there must be prey to be caught somewhere in the area. Of course, mice inside a house were no use to an owl. But mice got into human dwellings from outside and so in that case, thought Owl, there would be others to find.

  ‘And if anyone can find mice,’ he told himself again, ‘I can.’ So he began to search the gardens; along the fence bottoms, around the sheds, under the hedges. And pretty soon he found them all right. And he also found he wasn’t the only one hunting them. From time to time he caught a glimpse of another bird swooping in the darkness, never very close, always keeping its distance. And he heard the squeals of mice he hadn’t caught, just a few garden plots away from where he was intent on his own quest.

  Each time Tawny Owl made a kill he took it back to the beech and ate in seclusion on one of the broad grey branches. He wondered where the other hunter perched to eat. He didn’t know that in between his visits to the tree the second bird was using it as well. Finally their trips coincided. Each was aware there was another occupant in a separate part of the tree. Tawny Owl wondered what sort of bird was sharing his roosting site. As it was a nocturnal hunter like himself he had every reason to suppose it was another owl. He was curious. But the other bird spoke first.

  ‘How long have you been hunting this area?’

  Tawny Owl swivelled round in excitement. The voice belonged to a female. ‘That depends on how you look at it,’ he answered.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It means that I know the area as well as any living creature and better than most,’ he explained grandly. ‘But I’ve been absent for a long while.’

  ‘Then you can’t know it as well as you think,’ came the reply. ‘The area has been steadily changing ever since I can remember.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Tawny Owl said, very much on his dignity. ‘I know all about Farthing Wood, believe you me.’

  ‘I believe you,’ said the other owl. ‘But do you know about Farthinghurst?’

  ‘Farthinghurst?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the name of this area now. Farthing Wood is long gone.’

  ‘I can see that!’ Tawny Owl exclaimed irritably. ‘But, did you know that we are now perching in a part of it?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’ve known and used this tree for several seasons. I think it’s always been here.’

  ‘As long as the Wood itself. And now it’s all that remains.’

  The owl was intrigued. ‘How do you know so much?’

  ‘If you’re a good listener, I’ve a long story to tell you. But for the moment, suffice to say that Farthing Wood was my home from the day I hatched. When its destruction was imminent I left. And now, as you see, I’ve returned.’

  ‘I don’t pretend to understand your reasons,’ said the other owl, ‘since your Wood has now disappeared.’

  ‘Ah – that’s another matter,’ Tawny Owl told her. ‘But what about you? Is this your permanent territory? Tell me about yourself.’

  ‘Not much to tell.’ The female owl fluttered to a closer branch. She was another Tawny. ‘I was hatched on the fringes of the Wood amidst the roar of men’s machinery. There was just a tiny patch of woodland then but, from what you say, I think it may once have been much larger. Most of my kin were killed or found other territories. I stayed around, though.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Simple. Abundant food. In my early days there was almost a plague of mice who came in from the countryside to raid the humans’ buildings. They were attracted originally by a great barn where grain was stored. This was on the edge of the estate. From there they spread all over, getting into the humans’ own dwelling-places. So there was never a shortage of prey for me. Of course, the humans got to work to eradicate my food supply. But they could never quite winkle out every last mouse. So I’ve hung on here. I compete with cats and others but I’ve never starved. I suppose I’ve been lazy in some ways.’

  ‘Far from it,’ Tawny Owl contended. ‘It always makes sense to exploit a constant source of food. And where do you roost?’

  ‘Well – right here, of course. Where else is there?’

  ‘Here? But I was sheltering here myself during the day. I didn’t realize . . .’

  ‘No reason why you should. I saw you, but you were, by all appearances, oblivious of everything.’

  ‘I was exhausted,’ Tawny Owl explained. Then he told her about his adventure in the loft.

  ‘That was an error on your part, to go inside a man-dwelling,’ the female owl asserted. ‘I’ve learnt to steer well clear of them.’

  ‘You’re right, of course,’ he agreed. ‘But that was nothing compared to my previous adventures.’

  ‘Oh? And when am I to have the privilege of hearing about them?’

  ‘Any time you wish,’ Tawny Owl promised. He was eager to impress. ‘What do you call yourself?’

  ‘I don’t call myself anything,’ she answered. ‘And there’s no-one else around to give me a name. At least,’ she added, ‘not until now. Perhaps you’d like to think of one for me?’

  ‘Well, I – I don’t know if I’m much good at that sort of thing,’ he said awkwardly. ‘But I’ll try.’

  ‘Do you have a name?’

  ‘Yes. Tawny Owl,’ he
said.

  ‘I can see that.’ The female owl was amused. ‘But what of your own individual name?’

  ‘Well, that is it.’ He rustled his wings. ‘I’ve never needed another. My friends always called me that. I was the only owl in the party, you see.’

  ‘Party?’ she queried. ‘No, I don’t see.’

  ‘I think I’d better tell you my story,’ he said.

  ‘I wish you would.’

  So Tawny Owl related the story of the Animals of Farthing Wood and of their long journey to a new safe home. His companion was an avid listener. She was thrilled and awed by his descriptions of the adventures they had encountered on the way, so much so that she wasn’t absolutely sure whether he might not be embellishing some of them. But he wasn’t, of course. He didn’t have any need of embellishments. She hardly spoke a word until he had finished. ‘A thrilling tale indeed,’ she said. ‘And so you all made your homes in White Deer Park?’

  ‘Yes, we did. And soon I shall return there.’

  ‘Forgive me, but I don’t understand why you ever left it?’

  ‘Aha,’ Tawny Owl returned. ‘That’s quite another story.’

  The female owl didn’t press him. She was beginning to feel drowsy. She said, ‘It seems so strange for a bird to have mammals as his closest companions – and even a reptile, too. I never heard of such a thing.’

  ‘They’ve been true comrades, all of them,’ he said. He had got himself into quite an emotional state during the recounting of his story, even to the point of being prepared to forgive Weasel his teasing. ‘Don’t you ever get lonely?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it before,’ she answered. ‘But now I see the advantage of friends in times of difficulty.’

  ‘I – er – could be a friend, you know,’ Tawny Owl offered hopefully.

  ‘Well, I think maybe you already are,’ she replied. ‘And so really I think you must give me a name.’

  ‘Yes, yes, now let me think . . . I have it!’ he cried suddenly. ‘I shall call you Holly.’

  ‘Holly! Why?’

  ‘Because it’s a good name for an owl,’ he answered promptly. ‘And besides – I can’t think of anything else.’

  She was not displeased. ‘Holly, Holly,’ she repeated, testing the name. ‘Yes, I rather think I like it. It’s nice to be called something.’

  Tawny Owl was thoroughly pleased with himself. Now his thoughts took another turn and he felt glad he had come this far, after all. He hardly dared to hope that all his plans would be fulfilled. Yet Fate had brought him to this tree, the symbol of Farthing Wood, and here he had found Holly, its last survivor. There had to be some meaning to it all. His thoughts were interrupted.

  ‘Where did you roost last?’ she was asking.

  ‘Here – on this very branch.’

  ‘Then I shall join you there,’ she said purposefully. And she flew over. ‘We may as well start as we mean to go on, don’t you think?’ she added, perching by his side. ‘Friends must stick together, mustn’t they?’

  9

  A Rival in the Air

  SO THE TWO birds roosted together in the beech tree during daylight. At night they hunted mice together. This became the pattern of Tawny Owl’s new life and he had no complaints for the moment. He still intended to return to White Deer Park and, of course, he intended to take Holly along with him. But she seemed so content with her lot that he hesitated to broach the subject, fearing she might decline. In this he was quite wrong. Holly had of necessity lived a solitary life. Now she was enjoying the change and would not have wanted to be left alone again. She was a clever bird and also a little cunning. She knew Tawny Owl wanted her to stay with him; she guessed easily enough that he lacked a mate and she took this to be because of his age. From that it was simple enough to surmise that he would be keen to keep her and would therefore be willing to do her bidding. So she decided to make use of this situation. And, first of all, she would test his feelings towards her.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll be going back to your Nature Reserve,’ she remarked to him coyly one evening as they rested from hunting.

  ‘I certainly shall,’ he asserted.

  ‘When will it be?’

  Tawny Owl shuffled his feet. ‘I – er – I’m not quite sure,’ he answered.

  ‘Why leave? Aren’t you happy here?’ Holly asked next.

  ‘Up to a point, yes,’ he had to say.

  ‘We have an abundance of food, we have shelter, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but you see, I don’t feel this is my home any more. How could I? I belong in White Deer Park.’

  ‘Then why did you come here?’

  ‘I didn’t plan to – at first,’ he answered.

  ‘What changed your mind?’

  ‘Oh well, I’d already flown a considerable distance away from the Reserve and it occurred to me I might as well come a little further and see what the old place looked like. And, until recently, I wished I hadn’t.’

  Holly knew perfectly well what he was alluding to. But she pretended otherwise. ‘I wonder why you changed your opinion?’ she mused.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Do I?’ she asked with feigned innocence.

  ‘Well, I had hoped you understood,’ Tawny Owl said. ‘I mean, most creatures like company of a sort.’

  ‘But weren’t you telling me you had plenty of company in the Park? Your friends the fox and the badger . . .’ She was making it difficult for him.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. He shifted up and down. Then he mumbled, ‘But one always prefers company of one’s own kind.’

  ‘Ah. I see,’ said Holly. ‘How flattering,’ she added softly. Then, ‘How important is it to you?’

  ‘Very,’ he confessed.

  ‘Then I ought to tell you something. You may lose my company.’

  ‘How? Why?’ Tawny Owl blustered.

  ‘I think you may have a rival for it.’

  ‘A rival? Oh, that’s of no consequence. He’d soon quit the field when he saw I was around,’ Tawny Owl told her self-importantly. He – the Farthing Wood Owl!

  ‘You may be right, I can’t tell,’ Holly said. She wished to appear impartial. ‘But – forgive me for saying it – he seems a much younger bird than yourself. I think I should warn you.’

  Tawny Owl’s self-esteem was rocked a little by this news. He wondered whether fame alone would be enough to ward off any challenge. And then, if the owl should be really young, would he have heard of the Owl from Farthing Wood? After all, Holly hadn’t seemed aware of his status.

  ‘Where have you seen this bird?’ he asked cautiously.

  Holly thought hard. The story was all invention. How could she make it seem convincing? ‘Oh, I’ve seen him around for a long while,’ she answered airily. ‘He flits about in the distance, over the house-tops and along the hedge-plants. Sometimes he comes right by our roost and looks up inquisitively. He watches me, you know. I was aware of his presence before you arrived.’

  ‘I’ve never seen him,’ Tawny Owl declared. ‘But I’ll look out for him from now on!’ He sounded determined. In fact he wasn’t at all sure he believed her. Holly, however, was pleased with his reaction.

  The next time they hunted together Tawny Owl really kept his eyes peeled for the slightest sign. He saw nothing large enough in the air to be an owl. When they were back on their perch he questioned his companion. Had she seen anything?

  ‘Oh yes. He was around,’ she told him with the greatest composure.

  ‘But he couldn’t have been!’ Tawny Owl remonstrated. ‘I looked everywhere.’ He was becoming suspicious.

  ‘You have to know where to look,’ Holly pointed out. ‘And besides, he’s probably wary of you.’

  This remark boosted Owl’s ego. It was meant as a compliment and he took it as such. Holly’s subtlety had dispelled his doubts for the time being. He didn’t mention the other bird again but waited for her to do so. And she did.

  Each night she pretended
to have seen it, sometimes in one place, sometimes in another. And, according to her, this other male on occasion still flew close to the beech tree while they were resting.

  ‘Not much of a rival, is he?’ Tawny Owl remarked sarcastically. ‘He never dares to show his face.’

  Holly saw she might have miscalculated. She had to retrieve the situation. ‘I’m so afraid he’s just looking for his opportunity,’ she said. ‘When you’re asleep, for instance. You always doze off long before I do.’

  ‘Do I indeed?’ Tawny Owl returned grumpily. He never liked to be reminded of his tendency to drowsiness. ‘Well, I tell you what then. In future I’ll stay awake and wait for him.’

  For the next few days he did just that. He made a supreme effort to keep his eyes open although a full stomach always made him feel sleepy. He stared through the mass of branches until long after dawn when the beech gradually took on its colours of leaf green and silver grey.

  ‘I saw nothing and nobody,’ he kept telling her.

  ‘I think he’s waiting till your guard is down,’ was Holly’s answer. ‘He’s so clever.’

  Tawny Owl was tiring of this game. He decided to bring it to a conclusion. ‘Oh yes, he’s clever all right,’ he said. ‘He’s so clever at eluding me he’s as good as invisible.’

  ‘Oh, Tawny Owl,’ responded Holly archly. ‘Do you doubt me?’

  Owl was sorely tempted to say so but refrained. ‘No, no,’ he lied. ‘Why should I? But I mean to see off this interloper once and for all. So the next time you see him, you tell me straight away where he is and I’ll get after him and drive him off.’