by Colin Dann
He dropped the mouse. ‘Now I really am stuck,’ he murmured to himself. ‘I can’t even get back to the roost.’ He began fatalistically to tear at the mouse carcass. At least he could eat where he was. Then all at once he stopped. He knew Holly would eventually come looking for him. He would need a longer rest before he could fly again. And it was important to him that Holly should see that, although he had overstretched himself, he had not entirely wasted his efforts. So he left the rest of his kill untouched as a sort of trophy to display to her.
Holly was a long time making her appearance and Tawny Owl had grown horribly hungry in the meantime. So when he finally saw her gliding above he called to her in all humility, desperate to break his fast: ‘Here! Here I am!’
Holly’s scolding began before she reached the ground. ‘What did I say to you, you silly old bird? I’ve been searching for you for ages. I’ve caught enough mice to feed a brood, let alone just the two of us.’ She landed and noticed Owl’s catch. ‘And is that all you exhausted yourself for? Some other predator’s leavings? Now what is to happen? Are you going to stay here in the open in broad daylight?’
‘I caught this, I caught it myself,’ Tawny Owl protested feebly. But it was no use. Holly wasn’t listening.
‘I’ll go back and fetch some better food for you,’ she told him. ‘You’d better eat heartily and build up some strength. You’ll need to exercise those wings before much longer or I don’t know what might happen to you. And in future,’ she nagged him, ‘you want to pay more attention to what I say. You’ve made a real fool of yourself – and at your age too! I shall have to keep watch over you now, just as if you were a helpless chick.’
She flew away, back to the elder tree, to fetch the food. She didn’t wait for a reply. Tawny Owl groaned. By trying to assert himself he had ended up becoming more dependent than ever.
15
No Contest
IN WHITE DEER Park, in the last few days before the hurricane reached it, Trey had followed up his triumph by establishing his rule over the whole herd. The other males largely kept their distance but the dominant stag couldn’t be in all places at all times and so they were able on occasion to rejoin the hinds. The females were quite content with the situation. When Trey was around, which he generally was, each seemed happy enough to be part of his harem. He was the finest of the stags by far and they recognized his superiority.
The other animals often saw him leading the herd to drink at the Pond. The hinds grouped around its fringes and drank together whilst Trey kept watch for any possible interference. At these times it was not advisable for any creature of the Park to approach too closely. Trey would exercise his self-appointed authority over the Nature Reserve by chasing it away. He was very jealous of his herd’s rights to have exclusive and uninterrupted use of the water. The other inhabitants wondered how much further he would attempt to rule their lives when his present absorption with the hinds was over. He had given them plenty of indications and they tired of seeing him stepping regally along the boundaries of the Park, his head with its heavy burden of antlers held high, and his haughty glance sweeping over the length and breadth of the Reserve.
‘It seems his vanity knows no limits,’ Fox remarked when the animals were gathered one evening. ‘But his legs bear the toothmarks of Plucky and Badger. He’s not unassailable.’
‘Let sleeping dogs lie,’ Vixen counselled. ‘He doesn’t impose himself on us at present.’
‘We’ve always been free to visit the Pond whenever we needed,’ Fox replied. ‘All of us. These days, Toad’s the only one who’s allowed free rein because he’s small enough to be overlooked.’
‘If only Trey would go and drink from the stream,’ Weasel growled, ‘it would solve all our problems.’
‘It’s hardly likely,’ said Friendly, ‘when every other creature in the Reserve avoids it.’
Adder was bored with this continuous topic of water, perhaps because as a reptile he didn’t understand the mammals’ preoccupation with the need to drink. ‘There’s plenty of rainwater lying around now,’ he hissed. ‘Enough for all the animals in the Park to make use of. Why this constant obsession with the Pond?’
‘It’s symbolic,’ Weasel told him.
‘Symbolic of what? Only of unending chatter as far as I can see,’ the snake contended.
‘It’s symbolic,’ Weasel intoned slowly, ‘of the way our freedom to roam has been blighted by this stag.’
‘Oh – oh. Round and round we go,’ Adder rasped and coiled himself up as he spoke, so that the others weren’t sure if he was being sarcastic or commenting on his own activity.
Weasel, however, was goaded. ‘He’s right, you know,’ he said. ‘I can remember days not so very long ago when we did more than just talk.’
‘Yes,’ said Fox. ‘We were young and vigorous then.’
Weasel drew himself up. ‘We’re still the Animals of Farthing Wood,’ he said proudly. ‘We’ve got the better of many a foe in our time. And you said yourself Trey isn’t unassailable.’
Fox was interested. ‘What do you propose, Weasel?’
‘I propose,’ he answered, ‘that we stand up for ourselves, just like Plucky and poor old Badger.’
‘We don’t want to meddle with Trey,’ Vixen cautioned. ‘He’s a youthful beast and a strong one and all our wisdom and guile may count for nothing against that.’
‘I’m not advocating meddling with him,’ Weasel assured her. ‘I don’t want anything to do with him, personally. But if he continues to meddle with our liberty within the Reserve then, as I say, I think we should stand up for ourselves.’
‘Bravo, Weasel. Well said,’ Friendly commented. ‘Father, why don’t you lead our party down to the Pond to drink, just as the stag does with his herd?’
‘That’s provocation,’ said Charmer.
‘That’s right,’ agreed Friendly happily. ‘Well, Father?’
‘All right,’ said Fox. ‘It’s worth a try. We’ll browbeat him. He can’t intimidate a whole group of us. He’ll have to concede. And, once he’s done so, perhaps we shall be allowed to carry on our lives without this constant fear of hindrance.’ There was the old authority and determination in his voice.
‘We can’t travel around in a big group all the time,’ Leveret pointed out. ‘Supposing he tries to pick us off one by one?’
‘We’ve no reason to fear that,’ Fox encouraged him. ‘He’s shown no sign of it so far. I don’t think he’s vindictive enough.’
‘Nor sufficiently clever,’ Weasel added.
‘Well, no time like the present,’ Fox said confidently. ‘I feel two seasons younger already. Who’s coming?’
There was a general chorus of support.
‘Good,’ Fox said. ‘Only Badger must stay behind. And Mossy can keep him company.’ He turned to the mole. ‘Will you make certain he remains in his set?’
Mossy assured him he would.
‘Apart from you, then, it’s the whole party?’ Fox summed up.
‘Except for Tawny Owl,’ Whistler reminded him.
‘I begin to believe we shall never see old Owl again,’ Fox said sorrowfully. ‘I’m afraid something must have happened to him.’
The younger foxes looked uncomfortable as they always did when Tawny Owl was mentioned.
Fox noted their discomfort and relieved them of it. ‘Follow me, then, all of you,’ he cried and, quitting the Hollow, set off in the direction of the Pond.
Beside himself and Vixen, only Weasel, Whistler and Leveret were also of the old Farthing Wood contingent. Toad was already at the Pond, Tawny Owl was absent, Badger too feeble, while Adder showed no sign of wishing to uncoil himself. So it was just as well there was a good number of Fox’s and Vixen’s descendants to bolster the throng: Friendly and Charmer, Pace, Rusty, Whisper and Plucky. Mossy hurried to Badger’s set to acquaint him with the animals’ move. His short legs were not any swifter overland than his father, Mole’s, had been. So an appreciable period had elapsed
before he dug himself into the familiar darkness of his labyrinth of tunnels that connected with Badger’s home. The old animal took the news badly. He was hurt.
‘So they don’t think I can contribute anything any more?’ he mumbled. ‘How could Fox be so unkind?’
‘No, no, he meant to be quite the opposite,’ Mossy asserted. ‘He wants to protect you, I’m sure.’
‘Protect me? Nobody needs to protect me,’ Badger declared. ‘I can look after myself.’ He began to lumber up the tunnel.
‘Where are you going?’ cried Mossy in alarm. ‘Fox is relying on me to –’
‘To keep me out of it? Oh no. That’ll be the day,’ Badger growled. ‘Where the Farthing Wood animals go, I go.’ He was quite obstinate. He turned his back on Mossy and headed for the exit. Mossy was powerless to stop him.
‘Oh dear,’ said the mole. ‘I’ve done this all wrong. Whatever will Fox think of me if Badger’s hurt?’
But Badger had no intention of getting hurt. He’d already survived one brush with the royal stag, as well as a near poisoning and he didn’t think Providence was against him. As he passed the Hollow he saw Adder enjoying his solitude.
‘What are you doing here at such a time?’ he demanded.
‘Being more sensible than you, by the look of it,’ the snake answered, quite unruffled.
‘Come on, Adder. We’re all together in this.’
‘Oh no, Badger. Quite the reverse. We’re not.’
‘Have you forgotten the Oath?’
‘No, of course not. But whatever happens at the Pond would have happened anyway long before I could have got there.’
Badger saw the sense of this and realized the same could apply to himself. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll see you later.’
‘I certainly hope so,’ Adder replied. ‘But if you must go, go carefully, Badger. There’s something in the air tonight.’
Badger’s senses, blunted by age, had not detected anything unusual, besides which his thoughts were thoroughly absorbed with the affront dealt him by his friends. He stumbled along on the trail of the other animals, determined to play his part in the Pond scenario.
The night was well on when the others brought themselves within sight of the expanse of water. As if Fate had ordained it, the first thing they noticed was that the Pond was ringed by the ghostly white blur of deer jostling for positions to drink. Fox’s eyes searched for Trey’s figure. And there he was, a short distance from his minions, keeping watch over the area. Fox saw the stag’s head turning this way and that as he craned his long muscular neck for intruders.
‘He’s there all right,’ he remarked needlessly, for all of them had seen Trey.
The animals bunched together. Whistler landed in their midst. ‘What – what do we do now?’ Leveret whispered nervously.
‘We go forward, of course,’ Weasel snapped. ‘To drink.’
‘Yes, but we won’t go blundering straight in,’ Fox qualified his answer. ‘We’ve got to be clever about it. The most important thing is that we stay in a tight group.’
‘There’s room at the far end of the Pond for us all,’ Whistler pointed out. ‘Well away from where the stag’s taken up his station.’
‘No, Whistler, that’s just what we don’t want,’ Fox told him. ‘It would be too blatant and would only stimulate Trey into immediate action. He’d come charging at us at once, assuming we were out to challenge his authority.’
‘But we are – aren’t we, Grandfather?’ Pace asked.
‘There are ways, Pace, of doing these things,’ Fox told him patiently. ‘An animal of Trey’s size galloping at full-tilt would scatter us irretrievably. He’d have won his argument before we’d even begun. No, we’re going to, quite literally, fox him.’
The animals enjoyed the pun.
‘How do we do that?’ Whisper asked.
‘By doing what he’ll be least expecting,’ Fox replied. ‘We’re going to march right up to him and confront him. He won’t be quite sure how to take us.’
‘Lead on then, Fox,’ said Weasel. ‘If anybody can pull this off, you can.’
The animals trod quietly but deliberately forwards, heading directly for the imposing figure of the royal stag. In the darkness it was a while before Trey picked them out. He began to toss his head in a threatening manner. But the collection of animals kept on coming. From the edge of the Pond, amongst some rushes, Toad watched their progress. ‘It looks like a deputation,’ he marvelled to himself.
‘What’s this?’ Trey bellowed to the approaching group.
Fox waited until they were near enough for him to answer without being required to raise his voice. ‘It’s a drinking party,’ he replied quietly.
Trey’s eyes roved over the animals appraisingly. He wasn’t sure why they had gathered together but he didn’t see anything to test his strength. ‘Where are you heading?’ he enquired, though he knew the answer.
‘To the water,’ Fox said.
‘There are many suitable puddles all around you,’ Trey told them.
‘Ah, but they’re not suitable for the deer herd, it seems,’ Fox said coolly.
‘Of course not. The Pond’s our source of water.’
‘Well then, it shall be ours too,’ Fox stated. ‘There’s plenty of room for each of us and we shan’t disturb the hinds. Come on, everyone.’
The band of animals followed Fox and Vixen without a word. They passed Trey and went on towards their destination. For some moments the stag stood stock still. The presumption of the motley group took his breath away.
As they reached the Pond Fox whispered: ‘Get in amongst the hinds.’
The animals did as they were bid and pushed themselves between the bulky bodies of the deer as they drank. Some of them got underneath the long legs of the females and in that manner threaded their way through to the water. By this time Trey had identified Plucky, the young fox who had dared to intervene when he had been teaching the old badger a lesson. The sight of this particular animal boldly defying his presence and actually mingling with his hinds galvanized the stag into action. He dashed across the short distance to the Pond, intent on proving his mastery once and for all. But all the animals in Fox’s band had become so intertwined with the female deer that Trey was unable to attack. He snorted furiously and galloped up and down looking for an opening.
The hinds had made no objection at all to the smaller animals’ presence at the waterside. They were quite used to the existence of foxes and other creatures in the Park. They had always been around and they had no fear of them. Indeed Fox and Vixen, Badger and Tawny Owl were well-known to them and held in high esteem. Trey was unique amongst all the deer in his arrogant attitude and the antipathy he aroused in the other inhabitants of the Reserve. So, while he sought angrily for one of the Farthing Wood band who might have exposed himself to attack, the female deer were welcoming their company at the pondside and docilely engaging them in conversation.
Trey’s exasperation was overwhelming. Toad watched his antics with the greatest enjoyment. ‘Trust old Fox,’ he chortled to himself. ‘He’s left the stag helpless.’
The animals were free to drink for as long as they chose. Yet many of them were not drinking at all. Their trek to the Pond to confront Trey had been a gesture of independence and the fact was that they hadn’t really needed the Pond’s water to quench their thirst. Led by Fox, they had been out to demonstrate that they meant to go on using it when the need would arise. When the stag realized that they were not drinking, his anger bubbled over. Ironically, the very thing he had been trying to prevent now incensed him the most. He knew their intention had merely been to best him. He roared at his females who were displaying every token of friendship to the other beasts.
‘Cease your prattling,’ Trey boomed, ‘and step away!’ He wanted to get at Fox himself now. He knew all about his legendary cunning and he couldn’t allow Fox to make a fool of him in front of his harem. The stag was simply seething with rage. Flecks of foam
flew from his lips.
The hinds turned to look. Trey pranced about, unable to keep still. Some of the other stags who also used the Pond were hovering not so far off, relishing their conqueror’s discomfiture. The females were in no hurry to move. Nothing would have persuaded them to put Fox and Vixen in danger.
‘Step away, I say!’ Trey roared. ‘Or you’ll rue the consequences!’ His threats were idle. He couldn’t harm his own herd.
A wind blew across the Park, a wind of ill-omen. All the animals – the hinds, the other stags, the Farthing Wood community and its younger relatives – were aware of it. They paused from their activities, raising their heads to look for its meaning. The foxes snuffled the air. Whistler flew over the Pond croaking a warning and birds clustered in the sky in nervous knots. Only Trey, obsessed as ever by his own importance, failed to notice. But his bellows and ranting were ignored.
‘We need to find shelter,’ said Vixen. ‘There’s a storm brewing.’ Even as she spoke the wind began to moan in the nearest tree tops and send wide ripples chasing each other across the surface of the Pond.
Fox quickly began to round up his group, heedless of the fact that they had now to leave the protection of the clustered female deer. There was a greater danger to pay attention to. The hinds milled around uncertainly.
‘Remember the place where Badger thought he was dying?’ Fox asked his friends. ‘We must go there now. There’s no time to get back to our own homes.’
Plucky knew the way to the deserted set better than anyone. It was he who had first discovered it. He trotted off, calling over his shoulder. ‘It’s in this direction.’
Trey saw his opportunity. ‘You’ve taken one chance too many this time,’ he said savagely and began to charge at once, his great antlers lowered.
‘Plucky! Plucky! Take care!’ Vixen cried and she was only just in time.
The young fox sidestepped the stag’s impetuous rush which carried the foolish animal some distance past him, towards the rest of the group.
Fox was scornful. ‘The mighty stag!’ he scoffed. ‘You call yourself the overlord of the Reserve. Yet you don’t seem to have any regard for the danger your own herd is in.’