The Farthing Wood Collection 1 Page 13

  ‘Did you see Hare?’ Vixen asked him.

  ‘Yes. His family are all reasonably well though, like everyone else, they’ve taken on a lean look. The leverets are almost up to his size now, and quite independent.’

  ‘How is Badger?’ Whistler wanted to know.

  ‘He wasn’t at home,’ replied Fox. ‘But I’ve no fears on his account. He has more experience of life than any of us. He’ll survive.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll see a thaw soon,’ said Weasel optimistically. ‘The winter has a long way to go yet, and a cold spell like this rarely lasts for more than a few weeks.’

  Fox did not reply, but they all knew he was wondering what could be done if it lasted through to the spring.

  Whistler gave them directions to the fishing area and told them he would meet them there. When they arrived, they found he had wasted no time. Four reasonably sized fish and a couple of crayfish awaited them. The three animals fell to at once and made short work of the meal. Whistler enquired if they had had enough.

  ‘Better to save some for another day,’ remarked Vixen, ‘than to feast now and starve tomorrow.’

  Whistler acknowledged her wisdom. Then he said, ‘I’ve seen nothing of the other birds. Has anyone encountered them recently?’

  ‘Oh, Tawny Owl can always be found in his beech coppice,’ Weasel answered. ‘He was dozing when we came past just now. He’s found himself a snug hollow trunk out of this biting air. As to Kestrel, he flies so far afield you would be lucky to catch a glimpse of him.’

  The animals enquired after the health of Whistler’s mate. As she was the favourite topic of the heron’s conversation, he answered enthusiastically. ‘Oh, she is such a wonderful creature,’ he told them. ‘It was she, of course, who knew where to find the crayfish and showed me the spot. I’m sure I never shall be able to express sufficient gratitude to you all for allowing me to accompany you on your journey to the Park. Had I not met you, I should still be patrolling the waterside in that quarry, with no more company than a lot of raucous mallards and coots. Now I’m living in that perfect contentment of a paired wild creature which I’m sure you, Fox, also enjoy.’

  Fox and Vixen smiled at each other and Weasel chuckled. ‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘Some of us still opt for the single state, you know.’

  ‘Ah, not for long, Weasel, if you are a wise beast,’ Whistler admonished him. ‘There is no comparison, I assure you.’

  Weasel laughed again. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said. ‘But, on the other hand, “better the devil you know” and so forth.’

  This little exchange served to lighten their mood, and provided a welcome relief from their troubles. The animals thanked Whistler heartily for his generosity and, telling him to keep in touch, began to make their way back along the bank of the stream towards their homes. Dusk fell early at that time of year, and the cloud-covered sky hastened the darkness. Weasel left the fox couple for his den, and as Fox and Vixen approached the earth, they could see an agitated Mole waiting for them.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Fox asked at once.

  ‘Badger’s disappeared,’ said the distraught little creature, and broke into a sob.

  ‘Now, now, calm down, Mole,’ Fox said soothingly. ‘He always leaves his set at this time in the evening. You know that.’

  ‘Yes, but he hasn’t been in it all day either,’ wailed Mole. ‘I’ve been along my connecting tunnel half a dozen times today to see him, and the set has been empty all along.’

  Fox looked at Vixen. ‘Hm,’ he mused. ‘That does seem strange.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s some simple explanation for his absence,’ said Vixen. ‘He may be on a visit or –’

  ‘He wouldn’t be likely to go visiting in this weather,’ interrupted Mole. ‘I’m so worried. Badger’s habits never change. He sleeps during the day, and only wakes up in the evening.’

  ‘When did you last see him?’ Fox asked.

  ‘Yesterday. We talked about the shortage of food, and I offered him some of my worms because he said I was looking plumper than usual. Then he started to talk about you, Fox, saying that it wasn’t fair for you alone to feel responsible for all the animals’ welfare, and that he was sure you were getting thinner and thinner because of it, and you needed some help.’

  ‘That’s Badger all over, the dear kind creature,’ Vixen observed.

  ‘Yes, and it makes the picture much clearer,’ announced Fox. ‘He’s obviously gone off on some venture of his own with the idea of helping us in one way or another, though Heaven knows what he can possibly do. Don’t be too alarmed, Mole. I think we shall see him back by the morning, and I’ll ask Tawny Owl to keep an eye open for him tonight.’

  ‘But what if he doesn’t return?’ persisted Mole. ‘I know I shan’t be comfortable until I know he’s all right.’

  ‘If he doesn’t return,’ replied Fox, ‘I shall personally go out tomorrow to search for him, even if it means combing the entire Park.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Fox,’ said Mole. ‘I knew you would. I’ll go home and stop bothering you now, and I’ll look into Badger’s set in the morning and let you know.’

  Fox trotted off to speak to Tawny Owl, leaving Vixen and Mole to return to the comparative warmth of their underground shelters.

  Mole went straight to Badger’s set before he ate a single worm the next day which, in his case, was the strongest possible measure of his anxiety. The set was, again, empty. He emerged from one of Badger’s exit tunnels and made his way as fast as his short legs would allow him to Fox, cursing his slowness as he did so. But his journey proved unnecessary for, when he reached the earth, Vixen informed him that Fox had already set off on his search. He had wasted no time on hearing from Tawny Owl that Badger had not been seen returning home, and all that they could do now was to wait for news.

  It was not long before Fox realized that, if he did not find Badger within the area of the Reserve settled by the Farthing Wood animals, or at least close by, he would never have the strength to travel the confines of the whole of White Deer Park. In addition to his own weaker state, there was the powdery snow, which in places had formed thick drifts, and was very tiring to walk through as he frequently sank in it as deep as his shoulders. Even as he trudged along it again began to snow heavily, so that visibility became very poor too.

  Skirting the Hollow, he made a tour of the perimeter of their home area. The falling snow covered any tracks or scent that might have been useful, and Fox knew he was on an impossible task. He must recruit some assistance. A swifter and less heavy animal such as Hare would be able to cover a greater distance more easily, but most of all Fox wished for a sight of Kestrel. His piercing eyesight from high above the ground could locate the lumbering form of Badger faster than anyone’s. For the moment, however, he must make do with Hare.

  Luckily Hare was to be found sheltering with his mate in a scooped-out ‘form’ of snow behind a hawthorn tree. The leverets were elsewhere. Fox explained why he had come again so soon.

  ‘That is surprising,’ Hare said afterwards, ‘old Badger going off like that. I wonder what he intended to do?’

  ‘We’ve no way of knowing, at the moment,’ answered Fox. ‘The thing I’m afraid of is that he might have met with some accident. He doesn’t normally wander far afield.’

  ‘How can I help?’ Hare asked.

  ‘You’re much fleeter of foot than me,’ replied Fox, ‘and can cover greater distances more easily. If I comb this side of the Park, could you investigate a bit further afield?’

  Hare was silent for a time. Eventually he said cautiously, ‘I could. But I don’t relish the idea of going too far away from the home area. After all, there are other foxes in the Park beside yourself and Vixen, and I’m fair game for all of them.’

  Fox nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’ve never yet met a fox who could outrun a hare.’

  Hare’s mate had pricked up her ears at this latter turn in the conversation. ‘Don’t put his life too much
at risk,’ she begged Fox. ‘He’s the father of a family, you know. Badger is a loner and would leave behind no mate to mourn.’

  ‘No, but the number of creatures who would mourn the loss of Badger would be far greater,’ Fox pointed out.

  Hare looked from one to the other, torn between conflicting loyalties.

  ‘Well, I shan’t press you,’ Fox said finally. ‘It may be that your duty to your family should come first, after all.’ He started to move away, but Hare called him back.

  ‘I will go,’ he announced. ‘I should never forgive myself if I turned down such a request for help.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Fox simply. He described where he wanted Hare to go – the area beyond the Edible Frogs’ pond. ‘We’ll confer later at the Hollow,’ he added. ‘I shall be there at dusk. Good luck.’

  He left the two animals but did not fail to hear Hare being up-braided by his mate as he went – ‘Why did you let him talk you into it like that?’ and Hare’s quiet reply, ‘For the sake of Farthing Wood.’ Now as Fox plodded on through the relentless snowfall, his spirits rose a little and some of the tiredness left him. He found some harder patches of snow, where it had begun to thaw and then frozen over, and he was able to increase his speed, all the time casting about for his old friend.

  He came out into the open expanse of parkland where the White Deer herd usually roamed, and it was not long before he spotted a group of them feeding from bales of hay specially provided by the conscientious Warden. One of their number was the Great Stag himself, a huge figure who now did not look so imposing as before. The hard winter was taking its toll of all creatures, from the highest to the lowest. Against the dazzling snow carpet, the white hides of the deer looked duller than Fox had remembered. The Stag noticed him and stepped elegantly towards him.

  ‘How do things go with you and yours?’ he asked.

  ‘Not well,’ Fox answered. ‘Food is hard to come by and the cold very cruel.’

  ‘Yes, I don’t recall many winters such as this,’ said the Stag. ‘For some reason this year we are not to be expected to fend entirely for ourselves. The humans, in their wisdom, have decided to buffer us against extreme hardship.’

  ‘I understand your herd is unique,’ said Fox, ‘so it isn’t surprising that your numbers are not allowed to become too depleted.’

  The Stag nodded sagely. ‘I’m only sorry you don’t eat hay,’ he said. ‘We have more than enough.’

  Fox thought of the rabbits and mice. ‘There is something you could do,’ he said, ‘if you are so willing. My smaller, weaker friends are suffering particularly. If you didn’t object, perhaps some stray stalks could be left aside for their use?’

  ‘Of course. Certainly,’ the Great Stag agreed readily. ‘But you don’t often come to these parts, do you? It would be a really difficult undertaking for creatures smaller than yourself.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Fox answered. ‘But if they are sufficiently hungry I’m sure they will come.’

  The Great Stag pondered a moment. ‘It is most unusual,’ he observed, ‘this mutual co-operation and concern your band of animals feels for each other. Normally, in the wild, each animal goes his own way and – well, the strongest survive. I find the idea of helping one another most interesting – even appealing. Perhaps we deer should also show a willingness to assist our brother creatures. Supposing I arrange it that each member of my herd carries a mouthful of hay and deposits it at a point more conveniently close to your friends?’

  ‘That would indeed be kind,’ Fox told him, and added that the best place to leave the food would be by the Hollow.

  ‘It shall be done today,’ the Stag said. ‘But tell me, my friend, what brought you this way in the first place?’

  ‘One of our party – Badger – has disappeared,’ said Fox. ‘I’m looking for him.’

  ‘Hm, again this concern for others. Most interesting,’ intoned the doyen of the deer herd. ‘Well, if I hear of his whereabouts I shall most certainly come and tell you. I wish you all well.’ He rejoined the rest of the herd and Fox continued on his way.

  Presently he came within sight of the Warden’s cottage and garden area beyond the fence and here he struck lucky again, for Kestrel was perched on top of one of the palings. The hawk called joyfully to him and flew over, wheeling playfully over Fox’s head.

  ‘Come down, Kestrel, I want your help,’ shouted Fox.

  The bird was at once all seriousness, and landed beside him. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  Fox told him.

  ‘I’ll go now – at once. Earlier today I was flying over the Park, but I had no sign of Badger.’

  Fox told him of the rendezvous at dusk in the Hollow with Hare; then he said, ‘Before you go, can I ask you to stay closer at hand for the next few days? You might be needed again.’

  Kestrel agreed and swooped off to begin his exploration.

  For the rest of the day, Fox methodically combed every part of the Reserve he could before he felt exhaustion to be imminent. With the last reserves of his strength he made his slow way back towards the meeting point. The snow had ceased by the time he reached the Hollow, where he discovered Vixen, Mole, Weasel and Tawny Owl waiting for news. He merely shook his head as he saw them.

  Mole said nothing, almost as if he dare not speak.

  ‘I asked Hare and Kestrel to help me,’ Fox said wearily. ‘I’m more hopeful of their news.’

  Hare was the next to arrive, but he had no comfort for them. However they tried not to feel too disheartened until Kestrel had come.

  ‘If anyone can find Badger that hawk can do it,’ Weasel said encouragingly.

  ‘Unfortunately that remark implies,’ Tawny Owl pointed out, ‘that if Kestrel can’t find him the rest of us don’t have a chance.’

  They fell silent again, shifting their feet in the bitter cold. At last Kestrel arrived.

  ‘I’ve searched every corner of the Reserve twice over,’ he told them, ‘and found not a trace of Badger anywhere. He seems to have disappeared into thin air.’

  Mole broke down at this appalling news of his beloved Badger, and it was left to Vixen to try and console him.

  ‘He can’t just have vanished,’ muttered Fox. ‘There’s something very odd about this.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s been adopted into another set,’ suggested Hare.

  ‘Never – not our Badger,’ declared Weasel.

  ‘Unless he were coerced?’ Tawny Owl added.

  ‘This is what is worrying me,’ Fox admitted. ‘It seems the only solution: that Badger has somehow managed to get himself captured and taken underground, or at any rate carried off by something. But no, no … it’s incredible.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing any of us can do for the moment,’ remarked Tawny Owl. ‘I’m famished, and I need longer than usual to hunt up my supper these days. I’ll bid you farewell till tomorrow.’

  He had not been long gone, when the animals espied a group of deer coming towards them. Fox told of his talk with the Great White Stag, and they all watched as each deer dropped its mouthful of hay by the Hollow and quietly retreated. This put other thoughts into Fox’s mind.

  ‘Hare, on your way home, will you inform your cousins the rabbits about this?’

  ‘I’ll have a mouthful or two myself first,’ he answered.

  ‘I’ll go and tell those poor mice,’ Fox continued.

  ‘No,’ said Weasel. ‘You’re far too tired. You go and rest. I’ll tell them.’

  Fox was about to relate the Great Stag’s comments on their mutual help for each other, but he was simply too worn out, and allowed Vixen to lead him back to their den.

  Mole was the last to leave the Hollow. ‘I won’t believe it,’ he kept muttering to himself. ‘He hasn’t disappeared. I’ll find him. I’ll find him.’

  Badger had thought long and hard about the animals’ difficulties, and it had occurred to him that none of them had any idea how the original inhabitants of the Reserve were coping with the winter. A
s they would know the resources of the Park far better than the recent arrivals from Farthing Wood, he decided there would be no harm done if he went to seek out advice where he could.

  Saying nothing to any of his friends, he left his home at his usual time in the evening and set off on his quest. The night air was still and the moon glowed from a clear sky. It was intensely cold and Badger hurried along as quickly as he could with his rather shambling gait.

  He had left the familiar region of the Park far behind before he encountered another creature. Under some shrubbery he surprised a stoat who was feeding from the carcase of a rabbit. The two strangers eyed each other warily.

  ‘It’s a bitter night,’ Badger said at length.

  ‘There’s not enough for two,’ the stoat replied, who obviously thought he had a competitor for his meal.

  ‘I’m not after your food,’ Badger told him. ‘I can see you are very hungry.’

  ‘Famished,’ answered the stoat bluntly. ‘Haven’t eaten for three days.’

  ‘Hunting difficult?’ Badger asked unnecessarily.

  ‘That’s an understatement,’ came the reply. ‘There’s nothing about. This rabbit died from the cold, I should say. Of course, it’s frozen solid. But you have to eat what you can these days.’ The animal wrenched off another mouthful and appeared to find it of great relish. ‘What about you?’ the stoat enquired. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t have,’ Badger told him. ‘I don’t usually wander as far as this. I’m one of the newcomers to the Park.’

  ‘Oh, you’re one of the great travellers, are you?’ the stoat said with a touch of cynicism. ‘Well, you’ve found no garden of abundance here, I’ll bet.’

  ‘Who could have expected weather like this?’ Badger answered. ‘In any case, the whole countryside must be affected.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed the stoat. ‘This winter will halve the population of this Reserve, though.’