The Animals of Farthing Wood

by Colin Dann

  ‘One seeks to preserve, the other to destroy,’ Whistler summed up.

  ‘I shall never understand humans,’ said Mole.

  While they had been talking, the Naturalist had taken a pair of field-glasses and was scanning the sky in an idle moment for something to watch.

  ‘Kestrel, why don’t you help him out?’ suggested Fox. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything for him to look at.’

  ‘Yes, don’t let’s disappoint the poor creature,’ said Adder sarcastically, ‘when he’s come all the way here to look at nothing.’

  Fox could not help smiling. ‘Adder, really . . . !’ he began. ‘Don’t you have any sympathies at all?’

  ‘Not for humans,’ drawled the snake.

  ‘But surely even you recognize that the Human Race isn’t all bad?’ persisted Fox.

  ‘Pooh!’ said Adder. ‘Humans like that one you all seem so fond of are very much in the minority. And don’t think he wouldn’t change towards us if his food supply ran out.’

  ‘You’re such a pessimist, Adder,’ said Toad.

  ‘I’m merely stating the obvious,’ he said. ‘Humans always have, and always will consider themselves and their needs first. Oh, there might be a few of your precious Nature Reserves around. But if land should become scarce, and humans find what they’ve got is not enough, they’ll jolly soon forget all about their high ideals of protecting their brother species! They’ll take every inch before they remember our existence.’

  ‘There’s no need to be so bitter,’ said Toad indignantly, feeling in his heart of hearts that Adder was right, but not wanting to admit it.

  ‘You all know as well as I do,’ Adder insisted, ‘that if it should ever come to a choice between their continued existence and our continued existence, not one human would hesitate a second before deciding.’

  The animals fell silent. Adder seemed to have found an irrefutable argument that was infinitely depressing to them. He looked round at them triumphantly.

  ‘Let us hope, then,’ said Vixen, ‘for their sake, as well as ours, that situation is never reached.’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t be – in our lifetime,’ Badger said, in an effort to be comforting. ‘Perhaps it never will be.’

  For some reason Toad felt himself bound to defend the conception of Nature Reserves. ‘I don’t know why you bothered to join us,’ he said in an aggrieved tone to Adder, ‘if you have no faith in White Deer Park.’

  ‘I didn’t think my faith was in question,’ the snake replied easily. ‘The point I was making was what might occur if and when our human friends find they are short of land. I realize it’s something that will only occur in the future. Nevertheless, you won’t have to look far to find a good illustration of my point. The very reason we are here now is, in case you’ve forgotten, because land that was once left wild was seized, without compunction, by humans for their own purposes.’

  ‘But Farthing Wood,’ argued Toad, ‘had not been set aside specifically for the use of wild creatures as a Reserve.’

  ‘Can’t we get off this dismal subject?’ asked Weasel. ‘We can’t foretell the future, thank heavens, and I’ve a suspicion that neither can our clever, all-knowing humans.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Fox. ‘This sort of argument doesn’t help any of us. We’re in danger of losing sight of our objective – our only objective – which is to reach White Deer Park.’ Despite himself, he found his voice rising as he spoke and he finished up glaring at Adder.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Adder with a leer that belied his words, ‘I meant no offence. I shan’t say another word.’

  ‘Good,’ said Toad under his breath, but just loud enough to be overheard.

  The innocent Naturalist who had prompted the discussion was preparing to leave the meadow, having found nothing else in which to interest himself.

  ‘It seems such a shame when we’re all here so close,’ said Fox. ‘Kestrel, won’t you go?’

  ‘Delighted,’ said Kestrel, and uttering one of his loudest cries, launched himself upwards with the speed of a rocket.

  Against the broad backcloth of sky, he began to undertake a series of acrobatics of the utmost virtuosity: hovering, diving, somersaulting with such breathtaking speed that his friends below felt like cheering.

  ‘Kew, kew,’ he called continually as the Naturalist, forgetful of his collection of instruments and paraphernalia, followed his every movement through the field-glasses in spellbound admiration.

  It was not long before Whistler decided he, too, had things of interest to show this appreciative human spectator and, after executing a number of preparatory whistles as he flapped his wings, eventually joined Kestrel in the air at a considerably lower height.

  There was not much he could do, apart from showing off the majestic motion of his huge wing-beats, but the animals watching the Naturalist’s reaction, all felt that he now found the larger bird’s appearance of more interest. Kestrel seemed to have the same feeling for, after a little longer in the sky, with a particularly spectacular dive he plummeted to the ground, and rejoined the party.

  Fox next tried to persuade Tawny Owl to fly a little.

  ‘No, I shall not make an exhibition of myself,’ he answered pompously. ‘Besides, I’m sure he’s not only interested in bird life.’

  ‘Would he be interested in me?’ Mole squeaked excitedly. ‘I could show him how quickly I can dig a tunnel!’

  Fox laughed. ‘Mole, really! How would he see you if you’re inside a tunnel?’

  ‘Well, yes, I forgot that,’ said the subdued Mole.

  ‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ said Badger. ‘He doesn’t want to see a lot of animals trying to show him how clever, or agile, or swift-running they can be. He’s not at a circus. I’m sure what would interest him more than anything is to see us all simply walking in formation through the field together. I bet that would surprise him more than anything. After all, how many humans can have seen a motley collection of wild life such as we are, all strolling amicably in a bunch? Why, he would never forget such a sight to his last day.’

  ‘An excellent idea, Badger,’ Tawny Owl was gracious enough to admit. ‘I’ll join you in that with pleasure.’

  The animals waited until Whistler finally returned, and then, automatically taking up their usual travelling positions, they filed slowly and deliberately through the grass, keeping about twenty yards’ distance from the Naturalist. Mole and Toad insisted on walking too, and the three birds fluttered along in advance of the column.

  Without saying a word, Adder had tagged along behind, and none of the others dared remark on it for fear of upsetting him.

  The Naturalist spotted the movements of the birds first, and then the procession on the ground caught his eye. He pressed the field-glasses harder and harder against his face, unable to believe what he saw. But as the movement continued, he realized that what he was witnessing was, in fact, a unique wonder of nature. When the animals reached the far end of the field, he sank to the ground and began to scribble feverishly in his notebook. They watched him then for some time.

  ‘Your idea certainly seemed to create an impression, Badger,’ said Fox.

  ‘We’ve made his day,’ Badger chuckled gleefully. ‘He’ll never forget us.’

  ‘We all seem to have forgotten something, though,’ said Tawny Owl. ‘Our empty stomachs!’

  30

  The church

  The animals spent the remaining few hours before darkness out of sight under the thick hedge. When it was dark enough, they set off singly, or in small groups, to forage and satisfy their ravenous hunger. Fox told them they could have all the time they wanted to accomplish this very necessary and enjoyable task, as they were to have a day’s complete rest before continuing their journey through the nearby town. Only Kestrel and Whistler were left in the meadow, intermittently chatting and dozing through the night. Their needs had been satisfied while the daylight held out; Kestrel had hunted from the air, while Whistler had flown a co
nsiderable distance before finding a stream where he could indulge his favourite pastime of fishing.

  Mole, too, had no need to leave the meadow. He merely looked for a soft piece of ground, and with a speed greatly accelerated by his hunger, dug himself towards his dinner.

  On the animals’ return, they went straight to sleep in the thickest part of the hedge and slept the clock round until dusk the following day.

  They woke in stages, completely refreshed, and with healthy appetites again. This time Fox told them to eat enough to last them for the next stage of the journey only, and to be as quick as they could about it, as their route now ran through the town, which they could only risk crossing at the dead of night.

  When they were ready to leave, the night had become several degrees cooler, and a gusty breeze was blowing. Toad had told them that if they were careful there was not a lot to worry about, as it was quite a small town and had been very quiet when he had passed through it before during the night hours. At his direction Fox avoided the main street, but led the animals along a series of lanes and alleys, each of which was bordered by high brick walls.

  The party kept close against these walls, on the darker side of the alleys, and were really quite inconspicuous as the passages were very murky and badly lit. When they came out of the last lane some spots of rain began to fall. This increased very quickly to a heavy shower, but the animals felt it was to their advantage, as the few humans who might be abroad would be looking for shelter.

  ‘The next bit’s the worst,’ said Toad. ‘We have to cross the town square. But don’t worry; it should be deserted at this time of night.’

  They crossed the road that lay in front of them and entered the square from one corner via an empty shopping colonnade. This square contained an island of flagstones and trees, surrounded on all sides by roads, pavements and shops.

  They quickly crossed to the island, and at once froze. Under a pair of lime trees, whose thick foliage afforded excellent shelter from the rain, a group of about a dozen humans, mostly courting couples, was standing.

  ‘No use stopping, Fox,’ whispered Toad. ‘You must go on. They’re not likely to do anything.’

  Fox and Vixen broke into a trot, and the other animals followed suit as they passed the lime trees, and made their way to the far end of the island. Luckily the dim lighting in the square and the hard rain combined to screen the column of animals from detection.

  They left the square and, turning a corner, found themselves in a market-place. Empty crates and boxes and small heaps of straw, paper and squashed fruit and cabbage-leaves lined the sides of this deserted spot, normally so crowded with eager, jostling shoppers.

  ‘Ugh, what filth these humans make,’ growled Adder, as he slithered across the muddy cobbles.

  The rain fell harder and harder, and the wind dashed it against their faces in squalls, almost blinding them.

  ‘We can’t take much more of this, Fox,’ Fieldmouse called from the midst of the soaked, struggling mass of mice.

  ‘It’s not much further now,’ Toad encouraged them, ‘Once we’re out of the town we can stop.’

  The animals made the best progress they could, and eventually the last shop, the last pavement, the last house was passed. Now that they were able to stop for a rest, they did not at all want to do so. There was absolutely no shelter from the stinging rain. They were surrounded by open playing-fields, devoid of trees or any kind of wind-break.

  ‘This is dreadful,’ wailed Squirrel. ‘Our fur is so drenched and matted together, we’ll all catch our deaths.’

  ‘We came through a storm before,’ Hedgehog observed. ‘I don’t think any casualties were suffered.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s no less uncomfortable the second time,’ Squirrel insisted.

  ‘What about us?’ said Vole. ‘We voles, and the fieldmice, will be drowned if we stay here in the open.’

  Fox looked all round, his brow furrowed as he strained to make out some object in the vicinity where they could take shelter.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said in despair to Toad.

  ‘I can,’ said Vixen. ‘It looks like a church. At any rate, it’s a big building – on the other side of these fields – look!’

  Fox could just make out a dark mass looming in the near distance.

  ‘Come on, my gallant little friends,’ he urged. ‘One last effort and we’re home and dry.’

  ‘Just to be dry would be something,’ Squirrel muttered.

  ‘Supposing it’s shut?’ said the pessimistic Vole.

  ‘If it is a church there’s sure to be a porch we can shelter under,’ said Fox, trying to sound confident.

  ‘Well, don’t let’s waste time,’ said Squirrel, in a weary sort of whine.

  Fox started off across the fields, Vixen at his side, with Badger, the hares, Weasel and the rabbits close behind. The squirrels, their usually bushy tails plastered with wet, were a sorry sight as they ran nimbly in their wake. The hedgehogs, whom rain did not bother very much, and the soaked voles and fieldmice were last, save for Adder.

  There was a second hazard for the mice, for, because of their size, the heaviness of the drops was an additional hardship. Yet the sight of the church looming nearer and nearer drove them on, with its promise of eventual comfort and shelter.

  So the animals arrived beneath the building’s towering dark walls, tired, cold, soaked and shivering. The mice were the last to arrive, uttering piteous little cries of misery.

  Fox looked at them with a forlorn expression. ‘I . . . I’m afraid there’s no porch,’ he told them hesitantly.

  Some of the voles and fieldmice broke down at the news. To have come through all they had, and then to find no relief, was too hard to bear. They huddled together on the muddy ground and sobbed heartbreakingly.

  ‘But just a minute, my little friends,’ said Fox, ‘perhaps we can get inside. We’re not beaten yet. Badger, look after them. I’ll have a scout round.’ After shaking his saturated coat with a single vigorous movement, Fox began inspecting the walls.

  The animals watched him despairingly, while the cruel rain relentlessly lashed down as if it were trying to beat them into the ground. Tawny Owl flew up to the steeple and took up a perch in the belfry, where it was dry. Kestrel joined him, but Whistler remained on the ground standing with his great wings extended as an umbrella over the cowering mice.

  Fox disappeared round the other side of the church.

  ‘How much longer will this rain continue?’ groaned Rabbit. ‘I’m sure we shall all end up being drowned.’ He looked with distaste at Toad who, alone amongst the animals, was enjoying every minute of the rainfall, and was busy splashing about in a large puddle.

  ‘Extraordinary habits he has,’ Rabbit muttered to Hare.

  ‘Yes,’ Hare replied, ‘water is certainly a tonic to Toad. Just look how his skin glistens – as if he had put on a new one.’

  A shout from Fox made them all prick up their ears.

  ‘Quickly! Round here!’ he was calling from round the corner. ‘We’re in luck!’

  In one mass the party of animals scurried round to the other side. Fox proudly indicated a greyish shape that was draped against the brickwork.

  ‘Well, what is it?’ Badger asked, almost irritably.

  ‘It’s a hole!’ said Fox triumphantly.

  ‘There’s no hole there,’ said Rabbit peevishly. ‘What have you . . .?’

  ‘Of course, you can’t see the hole,’ Fox interrupted him. ‘They’ve covered it with this material’ – he indicated the greyish shape which in fact was canvas – ‘but we can soon get behind that!’

  He at once began to paw an opening, tugging the material away from the wall.

  ‘Ooh, there is a hole!’ cried one of the fieldmice.

  Fox climbed over the broken brickwork that framed the hole and looked back at the animals, all of whom were still watching him, except Vixen who had at once followed him inside.

  ‘What are you
waiting for?’ Fox asked. ‘It’s dry in here. It smells strongly of humans, but it’s as dark as Badger’s set. There’s no one about.’

  The animals needed no second bidding, and they scrambled together through the hole, Whistler stepping awkwardly after them in his upright gait. Adder was the last to slither between the canvas and the bricks.

  ‘I think Tawny Owl and Kestrel ought to be with us,’ Fox said. ‘Whistler, will you fetch them?’

  The heron cheerfully stepped back into the rain, and soon the three birds appeared together on the threshold.

  ‘Are we complete?’ asked Fox, beginning to see through the gloom.

  ‘No,’ Adder drawled. ‘It seems that Toad finds the rain preferable to our company.’

  ‘Oh, drat the fellow!’ exclaimed Fox. ‘All right, I’ll go this time. Vixen dear, would you help Badger look for a suitable hiding-place? We want somewhere dry and in-conscpicuous, and free from draughts.’

  ‘But I can’t see anything, Fox,’ she protested mildly.

  ‘We could do with your glow-worms now, Badger,’ chuckled Weasel.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ pleaded Mole. ‘Darkness is nothing to me. I’m used to it. I prefer it to sunlight really, you know,’ he added, trying to impress. ‘Oh yes, the darker the better.’

  ‘No wonder he’s as blind as a bat,’ said Adder maliciously, under his breath.

  ‘He’s just trying to be helpful,’ said Badger pointedly, rounding on the snake. ‘But, of course, you wouldn’t understand that.’

  Adder remained unabashed.

  Mole led the party, at a necessarily slow pace, down one of the side aisles. The animals’ feet produced a variety of clipping and padding noises against the worn stone floor, while Adder’s scaly body made a dry, swishing rasp as he writhed along behind them. In the almost total darkness the animals had no idea where they were going, and followed the confident Mole quite blindly.