The Animals of Farthing Wood Read online

  First published in Great Britain 1979 by William Heinemann Ltd

  This edition published 2006 by Egmont UK Limited

  239 Kensington High Street, London W8 6SA

  Text Copyright © 1979 Colin Dann

  Illustrations copyright © 1979 Jacqueline Tettmar

  Cover illustration copyright © 2006 David Frankland

  The moral rights of the author, illustrator and cover illustrator have been asserted

  ISBN 978 14052 2552 6

  ISBN 1 4052 2552 1

  eISBN 978 17803 1298 9

  www.egmont.co.uk

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  For Janet

  Contents

  Cover

  Title page

  Copyright page

  Dedication

  Part One

  Escape from Danger

  1 Drought

  2 The assembly

  3 Toad’s story

  4 Preparations

  5 Farewell to Farthing Wood

  6 The long drink

  7 Two narrow escapes

  8 First camp

  9 Fire!

  10 Confrontation

  11 The storm

  12 Trapped!

  13 Pursued

  14 The copse

  15 The river

  16 A new leader

  17 Which way?

  18 The butcher bird

  Part Two

  Journey to White Deer Park

  19 Fox alone

  20 The vixen

  21 Vixen decides

  22 The hunt

  23 Fox to the rescue

  24 Reunited

  25 The celebration

  26 The motorway

  27 Some comforting words

  28 The deathly hush

  29 The naturalist

  30 The church

  31 The final lap

  Epilogue In the park

  PART ONE

  Escape from Danger

  1

  Drought

  For most of the animals of Farthing Wood a new day was beginning. The sun had set, and the hot, moistureless air was at last cooling a little. It was dusk, and for Badger, time for activity.

  Leaving his comfortable underground sleeping chamber, lined with dry leaves and grass, he ambled along the connecting tunnel to the exit and paused, snuffling the air warily. Moving his head in all directions, his powerful sense of smell soon told him no danger was present, and he emerged from the hole. Badger’s set was on a sloping piece of ground in a clearing of the wood, and the earth here was now as hard as biscuit. No rain had fallen on Farthing Wood for nearly four weeks.

  Badger noticed Tawny Owl perched on a low branch of a beech tree a few yards away, so he trotted over for a few words while he sharpened his claws on the trunk. ‘Still no rain,’ he remarked unnecessarily, as he stretched upward and raked the bark. ‘I think it’s been hotter than ever today.’

  Tawny Owl opened one eye and ruffled his feathers a little. ‘They’ve filled in the pond,’ he said bluntly.

  Badger stopped scratching and dropped to all fours. His striped face took on a look of alarm. ‘I could hear the bulldozer moving around in the distance, all day long,’ he said ‘But this is serious. Very serious.’ He shook his head. ‘I really don’t know where we’ll go to drink now.’

  Tawny Owl did not reply. His head had swivelled, and he was looking intently under the trees behind him. Presently Badger’s snout began snuffling again as he caught the scent of Fox, who was approaching them.

  Fox’s brush started to wag in greeting as he spotted his friends. He could guess from Badger’s worried expression that he had heard the news.

  ‘I’ve just been over there to look,’ he called as he ran up. ‘Not a drop of water left. You wouldn’t know there had ever been a pond.’

  ‘What can they be doing?’ asked Badger.

  ‘Levelling the earth, I suppose,’ said Fox. ‘They’ve cut some more of the trees down as well.’

  Badger shook his head again. ‘How long before . . .?’ he began.

  ‘Before they reach us?’ interrupted Tawny Owl. ‘Could be this summer. Human destruction moves swiftly.’

  ‘What do you think, Fox?’

  ‘Tawny Owl’s right. In another year all of this could be concrete and brick. In five years they’ve dug up all the grassland, and cut down three-quarters of the wood. There are human dwellings on either side of us. We’ve been driven back and driven back, so that we’re like a bunch of rabbits cowering in the last stalks of corn in the middle of a cornfield, listening to the approach of the harvester, and knowing we’ve very soon got to run.’

  ‘And now they’ve taken our last proper water-hole,’ groaned Badger. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘We still have the stream at the foot of the hill,’ said Fox.

  ‘It must be just a muddy trickle by now,’ retorted Badger. ‘With all the animals in the wood using it, it’ll be dry in a few days.’

  Tawny Owl rustled his wings impatiently. ‘Why don’t you go and look?’ he suggested. ‘There are sure to be others there. Perhaps someone will have an idea.’

  Without another word he jumped off the branch, flapped into flight and disappeared.

  The last faint rays of daylight were gone as Badger and Fox descended the slope into the depths of the wood. Everywhere the ground was baked hard, and even the quivering leaves on the trees sounded brittle and dusty. Only the darkness around them was any comfort: that familiar, noiseless darkness that enfolded the timid animals of Farthing Wood in a cloak of security.

  Badger and Fox trotted along, shoulder to shoulder, each wondering what they would find at the stream. Neither animal spoke. Eventually they could see some movement ahead. A number of creatures were jostling together on the banks of the stream, milling about in a rather purposeless, disconcerted manner. There was a family of fieldmice, and about half a dozen rabbits, all of whom scuttled away when they saw Fox approaching.

  A number of hedgehogs remained. Some of them stood their ground, but the majority quickly rolled themselves up, projecting their spines in a precautionary way against the two most powerful inhabitants of the wood.

  ‘Tut, tut. Don’t be alarmed,’ Badger reassured them. ‘Fox and I have merely come to examine the stream. It’s the only piece of water left to us now, you know.’ He smiled kindly. ‘We’re all in this together – big and small alike. There must be no . . . er . . . er . . .’ He broke off, unable to find the right words.

  ‘Differences of opinion?’ suggested Fox, with just the beginnings of a grin.

  ‘Er . . . quite,’ replied Badger. ‘How diplomatic.’ He peered forward over the bank, his weak eyes straining in the darkness. ‘Oh dear!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh dear, oh dear!’

  At this point the rolled-up hedgehogs unrolled themselves, and the young ones began to squeak excitedly: ‘It’s dried up! All dried up!’

  From under the trees, and from the entrance to their burrows, the rabbits edged forward again, wondering what the clever Fox and experienced Badger would decide to do. One by one they seated themselves, still a little nervously, on the bank, keeping in a group as they watched Fox and Badger discussing the situation.

  The fieldmice returned too, and pretty soon their noses, like the rabbits’, were all twitching expectantly.

  ‘There will have to be an Assembly,’ Fox was saying. ‘Everyone must attend. We ought to discuss this problem together, so tha
t everyone will be able to put forward their ideas.’

  Badger nodded. ‘Yes. It must be held without delay,’ he said. ‘The situation is critical. Our lives are in danger.’ He looked earnestly at Fox. ‘I suggest no later than tomorrow night – at twelve,’ he said.

  Fox was agreeable. ‘Will you chair the meeting?’ he asked.

  ‘Certainly. Unless Tawny Owl . . .’

  ‘Oh, Owl! He probably won’t even come. You know what he’s like. Can’t bear anyone else to arrange anything,’ grumbled Fox.

  ‘He must come,’ insisted Badger. ‘I’ll tell him so myself. When an Assembly is called, the whole of Farthing Wood has to attend. Five years ago, my father chaired the Assembly that was called when the humans first started to build here. There were more of us then, of course. Farthing Wood was almost a forest in those days, with a large stretch of grassland all round it, and also . . .’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Fox cut in, a little impatiently. He knew Badger loved to talk about ‘The Old Days’, but once he started it was sometimes very difficult to divert him. ‘We know what it used to be like,’ he said. ‘But we’re concerned about what it’s like at present. My father,’ he added, in case Badger was offended, ‘was at that Assembly. But no good came of it. What could mere animals do?’

  ‘So true,’ mumbled Badger sadly. ‘But this time, unless we’re all to die of thirst, something has got to be done.’

  He turned towards the group of onlookers. ‘Fox and I are agreed that an Assembly of the animals of Farthing Wood must be called,’ he announced. ‘You should all arrive at my set by twelve o’clock tomorrow night.’ He began to digress again. ‘There’s plenty of room for everyone. Once upon a time many families of badgers lived there, but now I’m the sole survivor . . .’ He sighed reminiscently: ‘The last of a long line of Farthing Wood badgers, going back for centuries.’

  ‘We must spread the word to the others,’ Fox cut in quickly. ‘You rabbits must find Hare and his family, and, fieldmice, you can pass the word to the voles. Badger knows where to find Weasel, and I myself will look out for Adder and the lizards. Any of you who are about during the daytime can tell the squirrels about it.’

  ‘What about the birds?’ asked one of the hedgehogs.

  ‘We’ll leave them to Tawny Owl,’ replied Fox.

  ‘Badger was right – he must play his part.’

  ‘I’ll tell him when I get back home,’ said Badger. ‘Now don’t forget, all of you. Twelve o’clock tomorrow night.’

  The smaller animals scurried away, the younger ones chattering excitedly and feeling important because of the duties entrusted to them.

  Badger turned to Fox. ‘You’d better impress on Adder,’ he warned, ‘that we haven’t arranged this meeting to provide him with a wonderful opportunity to gorge himself. Remind him that every creature attending an Assembly is strictly bound by the Oath of Common Safety.’

  ‘Your father introduced that, I believe?’ Fox queried.

  ‘He did,’ replied Badger seriously. ‘It was very necessary, to prevent the possibility of bullying or fighting. Do you think Adder will listen to you?’

  ‘As much as he ever does,’ Fox replied evasively. He shrugged. ‘But I think even Adder respects the rules of the Assembly.’

  They stood a little longer; then Badger turned to go. Fox called him back. ‘What about Mole?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ Badger managed to laugh. ‘Once he hears all the feet running overhead, he’ll soon surface to discover what all the commotion is about.’

  Fox grinned. ‘Till tomorrow then,’ he said.

  ‘Till tomorrow,’ said Badger.

  2

  The assembly

  By eleven o’clock Badger felt that everything was ready. Since he had risen, he had been busy enlarging one of the unoccupied chambers of his set to a size which would accommodate everyone who was likely to attend the Assembly. Even with his powerful digging claws, it had been exceptionally hard work. The soil was dry and hard, and he had to remove all the loose earth into one of the unused corridors. Then, outside, he had gathered together several mounds of dry leaves, and dragged them down, backwards, into the chamber, spreading them evenly over the floor.

  When he had finished, he had sallied out again, this time to the borders of the wood. Underneath the hedgerows he gathered together a number of glow-worms, which he tucked into the thickest parts of his fur, in order to transport them back in bulk. Back at the set, he stowed the little insects at intervals along the entrance corridor, and with those he had left over he illuminated the Assembly Chamber, placing them in tiny clusters, just as he had watched his father do before him.

  At length, satisfied with his evening’s work, he left his set again to dig up a few roots and bulbs for his supper, which, garnished with a number of beetles, made a welcome meal. It was now eleven-thirty, and Badger decided to take a short nap before the other animals started to arrive.

  He did not seem to have been dozing in his sleeping-chamber for more than a few minutes when he heard the old church clock strike twelve in the distance, and simultaneously he heard voices outside. He jumped up and wriggled his way quickly to the exit. It was Weasel, who had arrived with Fox.

  ‘Go straight down the corridor on your left, Weasel,’ said Badger. ‘After a little way it turns to the right. Take the first turning left after that bend into the Assembly Chamber, and make yourself comfortable. I’ll join you in a moment.’

  Weasel followed his directions and the glow-worm lights, and had only just disappeared from view when more voices could be heard approaching. They belonged to the rabbits and Hare and his family. Just behind them came the fieldmice.

  ‘Fox, will you go down and keep Weasel company?’ Badger asked. ‘I’d better stay here to direct the others.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Fox and, bowing his head, he eased himself into the tunnel.

  ‘This way, everyone!’ called Badger. ‘Straight in there.’ He used his snout to indicate the entrance. ‘Just follow the little lights.’

  The rabbits, in their particularly timid manner, were unable to decide on who should be the first one down the hole, and they began quarrelling until Hare, with some impatience, said, ‘I’ll lead.’ He nudged his mate encouragingly. ‘Come on dear. And you, children! Our cousins and the fieldmice will be right behind us.’

  The lizards were next on the scene, though Badger did not notice them until they were darting around him like individual threads of quick-silver. After the squirrels, hedgehogs and voles had arrived, only Adder and the birds were missing.

  The latter arrived together, led by Tawny Owl. He had rounded up Pheasant and his mate, and even Kestrel, who spent most of his time hovering high in the air above Farthing Wood, had agreed to attend.

  ‘I didn’t deign to invite the other birds,’ explained Tawny Owl. ‘Blackbirds, starlings, pigeons, thrushes – they’re all half-domesticated. They thrive when humans are around. The more humans there are, the better they like it. No purpose in them coming. They don’t really represent Farthing Wood at all.’

  ‘Do we have to go in there?’ Pheasant asked Badger in some alarm. ‘Soiling our feathers with all that dirt?’

  ‘My set is quite spotless!’ Badger retorted. ‘I’ve spent all evening getting it ready.’

  ‘We haven’t come here to admire each other’s plumage,’ Tawny Owl said shortly. ‘If you haven’t anything more to offer the Assembly than that, you might as well not have come.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything about not attending the Assembly,’ said Pheasant in a small voice, and without further ado he walked into the hole with his mate, followed by Kestrel.

  ‘Vain as a peacock,’ muttered Tawny Owl, and Badger shook his head.

  ‘You go in, Owl,’ he said presently. ‘I’m only waiting for Adder, and then we’re complete.’

  Just then Fox’s head reappeared at the opening. ‘Mole’s just dropped in,’ he announced with a grin. ‘He came direct. Dug
a long passage from his tunnel straight into the Assembly Chamber.’

  Badger laughed. ‘I’d forgotten Mole,’ he admitted. ‘Hallo, here’s Adder.’

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ Adder whispered, as he slid to a halt. His forked tongue flickered all around. ‘I trust I’m not late?’

  ‘I suppose someone had to be last,’ remarked Fox pointedly. ‘Well, after you, Badger.’

  Inside the Assembly Chamber, the expectant faces of the young animals contrasted strangely with the solemnity of their seniors in the faint greenish glow. Badger took his place in the centre of the room, flanked by Fox and Tawny Owl as his self-appointed committee. The other animals spread themselves evenly round the Chamber against the hard earth walls. Most of the fieldmice and voles and rabbits took care not to sit anywhere near Adder or Weasel.

  Without ceremony, Badger opened the meeting. ‘This is only the second Assembly called in my lifetime,’ he began, ‘and for most of you it will be the first you’ve attended. My father called the last Assembly five years ago, when the humans first moved in to lay waste our homes. In those days there was a Farthing Heath, as well as Farthing Wood. I don’t have to tell anybody what happened to the heath that once surrounded the whole of our wood.’

  ‘Gone. All gone,’ hissed Adder from the corner where he had carefully coiled himself up, and was resting his head on the topmost coil.

  ‘All gone!’ echoed the voles.

  ‘But the humans weren’t content with that,’ Badger went on bitterly. ‘They began to fell our trees. They continued to do so, at regular destructive intervals, until what was once a large wood had been cut back to the present sad remnant, not much larger than a copse.’

  ‘What do you think will happen, Badger?’ asked one of the rabbits timidly.

  ‘Happen?’ Badger echoed. ‘Why, the same thing that has been happening. They will cut down more trees, and build more houses, and shops, probably a school, and offices and roads, and ghastly concrete posts and signs everywhere, faster and faster and faster still, until eventually . . .’ He broke off with a despairing shake of his head.