by Colin Dann
Seeing that his hounds were beaten, he took the matter into his own hands, and spurred on his horse, Mercy was not to be shown by any rule in his book. He came up behind Vixen and raised his whip-handle, his arm poised for one heavy blow that would knock her gallant little body back into the hungry jaws of his hounds. He leant over the side of his horse, at the same time reining it fiercely back, to make sure of his aim.
Suddenly, in the grass under his mount’s front feet, a glistening, mosaicked head reared up. It was Adder. With red eyes glinting, he lunged forward with the force of an uncoiled spring, and buried his fangs deep in the horse’s left fetlock.
The horse let out a scream of pain, and reared on to its hind legs, its front ones pounding the empty air, and threw the unbalanced Master to earth with a sickening thud. He lay unmoving.
In the next second Vixen reached Fox, and all of the animals retreated once more into the copse. The hounds were halted by the band of huntsmen arriving on the scene. These looked down with concern at their companion, a vivid splash of scarlet sprawled on the green turf.
‘My leg,’ he gasped, his features white and drawn. ‘I can’t move it!’
His horse, with a frightened look, was limping about by his side.
‘Perhaps an act of Providence?’ one of the other riders was heard to whisper.
The day’s hunting was finished.
24
Reunited
Behind the screen of trees, the animals watched the scene with bated breath. The huntsmen had called forward one of their number who was obviously a doctor, and this man was kneeling, grave-faced, by the injured Master. It was now the turn of the humans to be in difficulties. But the animals’ only concern was to be quite sure that the Hunt was leaving.
They watched its slow retreat down the slope with its casualty supported as comfortably as possible, a limping horse in need of attention, and a pack of subdued hounds. Only when the last sounds of the assemblage had died away did the animals feel safe.
Adder came slithering nonchalantly towards them over the leafy soil. The whole party greeted him like a hero.
‘You can save your breath,’ Adder said sourly. ‘What else could I do, when that monster was just about to tread on me?’
The animals ceased their praises at once, but Adder’s excuse had not fooled any of them. They realized he must have deliberately positioned himself on the slope in the chance of being some help to the exhausted Vixen.
‘This is indeed a happy day,’ said Badger joyfully. ‘Our dear friend, whom we thought to be lost, is restored to us. And now, it seems, we have a new member of the party to welcome too.’
He looked across to where Fox and Vixen, the latter still panting heavily, were sitting side by side, each content to feel the other’s nearness without the need for speech.
Fox knew he would never have to ask Vixen that important question again. The adoring look her eyes gave him told him all he wanted to know.
Presently Fox looked up and smiled at all his friends. ‘We’ve all got an awful lot to tell each other,’ he said, ‘but now isn’t the time. I suggest we have a brief rest here. Then we should move to a safer spot. In addition, Vixen and I are consumed with thirst. I wonder if someone . . .’
‘Leave it to me, my dear Fox,’ Kestrel interrupted. ‘I’ll scout round for the nearest stream; it won’t take me more than a few minutes.’ He flew up towards the tree-tops and vanished into the steely blue sky.
The other animals found themselves automatically looking to Fox again for directions. The usual pattern had soon been re-established.
Kestrel returned with good news. ‘We’re in luck,’ he said brightly. ‘There’s a disused quarry about a quarter of a mile away, completely fenced off from the outside, and there’s a great pond inside it with ducks and water birds and I don’t know what else. We’ll be quite safe there.’
And so, eventually, at a leisurely pace, the reunited party of animals, with Badger walking proudly by the side of Fox and Vixen at its head, made its way down the south side of the slope, with Kestrel hovering a few feet in advance.
When they had almost reached the quarry, Toad let out a cry. ‘I feel right again!’ he shouted. ‘This is marvellous! I feel I’m going the right way at last.’
The animals looked at him curiously.
‘Don’t you see?’ he croaked happily. ‘My homing instinct is working again, only in the opposite way. Farthing Pond has no influence any more. I’m too far away. Now I can feel a pull to the other direction – the direction of White Deer Park!’
‘Hooray!’ cried Mole. ‘Good old Toad! Now he can really guide us straight to our new home.’
‘Hare, will you stop please?’ said Toad gaily. ‘I feel as if I can leap all the way myself.’
With a grin, Hare complied, and Toad sprang forward energetically in front of Fox and Vixen, determined to lead the column into the quarry.
The animals soon arrived at their temporary destination, but found the fencing to be of the net type, so that only Toad, the voles and the fieldmice could climb through. Adder was able comfortably to slide underneath.
‘Leave this to me,’ offered Mole proudly, and he began to dig a broad furrow underneath the fence. So quickly did he work that the leading animals found themselves unprepared, and were liberally sprayed with earth from top to bottom, as Mole kicked it back vigorously.
‘Steady on, Mole,’ protested Badger, giving vent to a sneeze, and hastily moving back a few steps.
The channel was soon deep enough to allow the hedgehogs and squirrels to pass underneath the fence and Mole, having deepened it considerably on the outside, went under himself to perfect the other end.
That’s it. It’s done!’ he squeaked excitedly, and the rest of the animals entered the quarry.
They saw before them a huge, deep pit of bare chalk with a wide, man-made pathway, now encrusted with weeds and bushes of gorse and broom, leading steeply down one side. In the centre of this crater was a large pool, dotted with islands of vegetation, where several varieties of water-bird seemed to have made their homes.
Fox and Vixen hastened towards the water, leaving the rest of the party to follow as they wished. Side by side the two foxes drank their fill, and in the clear water they had time to admire each other’s reflections.
‘Oh, it’s so peaceful here,’ said Vixen afterwards. ‘I can hardly believe it’s the same world.’
‘All this countryside could be peaceful if only the humans allowed it to be so,’ remarked Fox grimly.
‘Yes, but let’s be quite fair,’ returned Vixen. ‘There are many humans who detest the idea of hunting as much as we do.’
‘The ones they call Naturalists?’ asked Fox.
‘Those, certainly. But there are others,’ said Vixen. ‘Otherwise why do they keep what they call pets?’
‘I must confess I shall never understand humans,’ Fox said, shaking his head. ‘In the wild, certain animals prey on others who, in turn, prey on smaller ones. Every creature knows what is his enemy, and also what he has no reason to fear. But those humans, who a short while ago were clamouring for our deaths, will probably go home and play with their dogs and talk to their horses with real affection.’
‘Well, at any rate, let’s forget the Hunt now and everything connected with it,’ said Vixen. ‘We’re lucky to be here, safe with your friends. Let’s enjoy ourselves.’
‘By all means, my sweet,’ said Fox warmly. ‘And don’t forget – they’re your friends, too.’
Vixen pointed, with a chuckle, to where, on the edge of the pond, Kestrel and Tawny Owl were busily ruffling up their feathers, preparatory to enjoying a bathe. The two birds squatted down in the shallowest part, and scooped the water over themselves using their wings. They made little flurried movements, sending a procession of ducklings out to a quieter spot in the middle.
Soon all the other animals were in a line by the pond edge, lapping and sucking water greedily. Toad found a quiet place where h
e indulged in his favourite pastime of bathing.
As the sun began to sink, the pond took on a wonderful reddish glow, like a huge molten ruby. The animals had remained in its vicinity, and they stood transfixed by its beauty.
‘How quiet and still everything is,’ Hare’s mate remarked. ‘This place is a sanctuary. Why is there any need for us to go further? We could live here quite happily.’
‘Impossible, I’m afraid,’ said Squirrel. ‘No trees.’
‘Hares don’t need trees,’ she pointed out. ‘Neither do most of the other animals.’
‘Well, we’ve come this far. Seems a bit faint-hearted to stop now,’ Squirrel persisted.
‘He’s right, my dear,’ Hare said. ‘Of course, I see your point. But Toad was saying earlier there isn’t much further to go. I think we should carry on.’
The discussion was interrupted by the approach of a heron, a very tall fellow who had been standing motionless in one corner of the pond almost all day.
‘I bid you good evening,’ he said in a lugubrious voice to the animals, stepping jerkily forward on his stilt-like legs. ‘Your friend the owl has been telling me of your exploits. I heard all about the Hunt.’
‘We were very fortunate,’ said Fox, not wishing to have the subject brought up again.
‘You were indeed,’ replied the heron. ‘A lot of foxes have been killed round here recently. I heard the racket going on earlier.’
‘Actually, we’re trying to forget the whole incident,’ said Badger diplomatically. ‘It was a frightening experience for all of us.’
‘Oh yes,’ said the heron, ‘I can imagine. I was shot by those humans once, you know. Look.’ He opened out one vast wing which had a neat hole through the middle.
‘Gracious! Can you fly?’ Kestrel asked.
‘In a rather wonky fashion, yes,’ the heron chuckled. ‘The wind makes a lovely whistling noise through that hole when I flap my wing.’ He beat it up and down a few times to demonstrate.
The animals let out little cries of surprise.
‘My friends all call me the Whistler,’ the tall bird went on. ‘They always know when I’m coming.’
‘It’s a good thing you don’t hunt in the way I do, then,’ remarked Tawny Owl. ‘I’m quite noiseless, of course – have to be.’
‘Everyone to his own trade,’ said the heron. ‘I’m a great fish-eater myself. There are plenty in this pond: carp, tench and perch. I’ve always preferred carp.’
‘Fish would certainly be a welcome change to our diet,’ said Fox.
‘Really?’ exclaimed the heron. ‘Tell you what, I’ll catch you a few tomorrow, if you like.’
‘Would you? How very kind,’ said Vixen.
‘Oh, no trouble, I assure you,’ said the heron. ‘I enjoy the sport. Perhaps we can take breakfast together?’
‘Do please join us,’ said Fox. ‘But don’t wake us too early,’ he laughed, ‘it’s been a very tiring day.’
‘You can rely on me,’ said the heron. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight,’ said the animals in chorus.
They watched the blue-grey back of the lofty bird as he stepped away towards his own resting-place. Then, as if by common consent, the whole party of Farthing Wood animals, with Vixen, huddled together into an intimate circle and listened as Badger and Fox exchanged stories of their adventures while they had been separated.
Some of the drowsy youngsters amongst the squirrels and mice fell asleep against their parents’ sides. One of them forgetfully leant against a hedgehog and was given a rude awakening.
But the adult animals and birds, despite their tiredness, talked far into the night about the hardships they had survived, and of what might lie ahead. Exhausted as Fox and Vixen had been earlier, the talk and good company revived them, and nobody retired until Tawny Owl broke up the party by saying he wanted to stretch his wings, and glided off into the night.
The following morning the animals were awakened by a persistent whistling sound. They had slept in the open, without any need for cover, so far from danger did they feel now. They all stumbled to their feet to find their new friend the heron waving his damaged wing vigorously, and pointing his beak towards a glistening pile of freshly-caught fish.
There were many cries of enthusiasm at this sight, but the vegetarian animals, after greeting the heron, went their own way to find some breakfast.
‘As I caught them I brought each one up here,’ Whistler explained. ‘Early morning’s the best time for fish, I find. I could see dozens of ’em dashing about. Anyway, there’s plenty for everyone, I think. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’
‘You have done well,’ Fox congratulated him.
‘Well, have a look and take what you fancy,’ said the heron generously.
Fox chose some plump carp for Vixen and himself, and Whistler, with his long beak open in a grin, his rigid stance making him look as if he were standing to attention, watched as Badger, Weasel and the hedgehogs took their share. Kestrel and Tawny Owl followed, and even Adder ventured to swallow whole some of the very small fish. Mole said politely that he thought such rich fare might upset him, and went to dig for worms with Toad at the pond side.
The heron began hungrily to stab his beak into the pile that remained, and the animals were intrigued to see the way he tilted his head right back and gulped the fish down his capacious throat.
When all the animals had satisfied themselves, they lay back on the ground to allow their digestions to operate comfortably, and congratulated themselves that there was no need to be moving on that day.
‘Mole and Toad must be hungry,’ Badger remarked with a chuckle. ‘They’re still eating.’
Mole, who was not far away, heard him. ‘I didn’t know Toad had such an appetite,’ he squeaked in amazement. ‘As soon as I dig the worms up, he pounces on them. I’ve hardly had a look in.’
At that very moment Toad snapped out his long tongue and dexterously flicked up another worm, then used both his front feet to cram the protruding ends into his mouth. He gulped it down, inch by inch, in a series of huge swallows that shook his whole body, and at each swallow both his eyes closed in ecstasy.
‘You’d better catch yourself some,’ laughed Weasel, ‘otherwise old Toad will burst himself in a minute.’
Mole’s breakfast was eventually assured by a fall of rain. The raindrops caused a change to come over Toad. He abandoned the worms, and took on a distinctly lively air as he felt the moisture on his skin.
‘I always feel like singing when it rains,’ he declared, and began to jump about every time he felt a fresh raindrop. He broke into song with a rather high-pitched series of croaks, which resembled the cries of the ducks on the pond.
Mole paid him no heed, but ate all the worms he could dig up. For some ridiculous reason, he had felt a little stab of jealousy when the other animals had laughed at Toad’s good appetite. He felt that his own reputation for voracity was being obscured and, perhaps because this was his only noteworthy feature, he started at once to reinstate himself as the greatest worm-eater.
It was a vain move because, as the rain grew heavier, most of the animals looked for shelter, and his greediness was unobserved.
Toad’s antics, meanwhile, had carried him into the water. As he paddled about, he did not notice the dark shape beneath him, but suddenly he was seized by a fish, whose great size betrayed its age.
This old denizen of the pond, unable to get a good grip on Toad’s slippery body, tried to gulp him down its throat as quickly as possible. This proved difficult, since the huge quantity of worms that Toad had put away had considerably distended his stomach, and he was too plump a morsel to swallow whole.
So Toad, half in and half out of the old fish’s jaws, croaked loudly for help. He was not able to call out for long as his captor’s next move was to dive promptly for the depths of the pond. As Toad felt the water close over his head, he decided his time was up unless he quickly wriggled free, and
he kicked manfully. Not an inch did he gain. He was held fast. Although he could last without air for a few minutes, he knew the old fish would remain on the mud bottom now until he was drowned.
Luckily, though most of Toad’s friends had not noticed his disappearance, one creature had seen everything, and this was Whistler. He quickly alerted Fox and Badger and then waded into the pond, peering down into the water, his view partially obscured by the raindrops.
‘Can you see anything?’ Fox asked anxiously.
The heron did not reply, but Badger gave Fox a meaningful nudge. He knew silence and stillness were of paramount importance now.
After what seemed an age, Whistler suddenly lunged downward with his long beak, and when he drew it up again, there was the old fish, a great carp, threshing in its grip, with Toad (a very limp Toad) still held fast in its jaws.
‘Bravo, Whistler!’ cried Badger, as the heron deposited the fish far up on the bank, where it squirmed and wriggled like an eel. It was not long before it was obliged to open its mouth, and Whistler immediately snatched up Toad and laid him gently at the feet of Fox and Badger.
Eventually Toad recovered his breath and got unsteadily to his feet. ‘My dear Whistler,’ he panted, ‘I . . . I’m indebted to you.’
‘Entirely my pleasure,’ replied the heron.
Toad looked at the dying fish, gasping out its life on the bank. ‘I wonder,’ he said, ‘if you could perhaps do me another favour?’
‘You only have to ask,’ murmured Whistler.
‘Then will you return that poor creature to the pond?’ requested Toad. ‘He is old, and I should like him to die peacefully when the time comes. For the old, a violent death is all the more terrible.’
‘Do you mean it?’ asked the heron in amazement.
Toad signified that he did, and without further ado the tall bird gently raised the fish in his beak, and stepped solemnly back into the water to release it.