The Fox Cub Bold Page 4

  The fox had lain awake most of the night, uttering occasional muffled barks to give a hint of his position. Now he dozed in the ditch, having refreshed himself by licking at the cold dew trapped in the overhanging grass stems.

  The crow cawed harshly to waken him, and then, his business done, vanished in pursuit of his own breakfast. Soon the badgers came clambering into the ditch with their burdens of food. One of them had clawed up some tubers, two of them brought mice, and the sow badger had caught a great rat that had been scavenging by the gibbet. All of the offerings were welcome to the fox, and none of the animals made any noise as he devoured his food piece by piece.

  Then the sow badger spoke. ‘I scarcely recognize you,’ she said.

  Bold looked at her, licking his chops. ‘My fortunes have dwindled rather since last I saw you,’ he replied.

  ‘Perhaps you should have stayed in our wood after all,’ she observed.

  ‘Either way I should have fallen foul of the human enemy,’ said Bold. ‘That gamekeeper was out to get me, and he would have tried another trick.’

  ‘Well, I’ve seen no traps around since you left,’ said the she-badger, ‘and I’ve been very wary, so he must be content with your disappearance.’

  ‘That’s why we think that now your safest plan is to come back with us,’ said one of her offspring, and added: ‘You see, the man won’t be expecting your return.’

  ‘That’s good thinking,’ agreed Bold. ‘But there’s a grave difficulty. I can’t travel.’

  ‘Can’t you move at all?’ asked the sow badger.

  ‘Scarcely. Up till now I haven’t eaten for some days, you see. Maybe it might be different now – anyway, I can try.’

  ‘You can take it in stages. We’ll bring more food,’ she promised. ‘Then you can shelter in the set until you’ve built your strength up.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re stranded now, though,’ said Bold uncomfortably. ‘You can’t travel back all that way in broad daylight.’

  ‘We’ll find cover and hide up until dusk,’ she assured him. ‘Then we can all start together.’

  Bold told them of the nearby wood where he had hidden himself until recently. ‘I’ll stay here,’ he went on. ‘I’ll be quite safe – I’ve been here for days and nothing has been around to disturb me.’

  The badgers made themselves scarce. Bold drowsed with a new feeling of hope in his heart. But his faith was ill-founded. He was awakened from his slumbers by a large and muscular dog – a Labrador – who was being exercised in the wood. It smelt the strong odour of fox in the air and gave tongue excitedly. In no time it had galloped up and discovered the luckless Bold cowering in his unprotected lair. Its frenzied barks brought its owner quickly toward the scene. Bold was cornered and completely helpless. His only hope was to feign death for, although this would not fool the dog, the man might be misled. So he lay stiffly on his side in a stark attitude with his tongue lolling from his open mouth, as if he had perished from cold and hunger. The man arrived, quietened the dog, and stood gazing at the animal in the ditch. Bold’s heart beat fast. The man prodded him a couple of times with his cane, but each time the fox cleverly rolled back to the self-same position, keeping himself quite rigid. Then the man muttered something to himself and called the Labrador away.

  Not until Bold was sure they must be far enough away did he allow himself to stir a muscle. Now it was imperative that he find a safer retreat. He got up and peered cautiously over the top of the ditch. The coast was clear, so out he climbed. He took a few tentative steps. The food had done him some good, for he certainly felt less shaky. He looked around for a place of concealment. There was nothing close enough to hand. Then he remembered that the ditch ran right into the wood to which the badgers had retired. He wondered if he could get that far. Well, at least he would be out of sight as he dragged himself along. There was really no other choice.

  The afternoon wore on as Bold limped his way through the mud and dead leaves of the ditch bottom. Of course, he was taking himself further away from his ultimate destination, but that could not be helped. By the time the first trees of the wood closed around him he knew he could go no further and so he sank down where he was. In an hour or two the badgers would be up and around and expecting him to begin another journey. But there was no possibility of that for the present. He must try and keep awake, though; otherwise, they could miss each other.

  Through bleary eyes that ached for sleep he at last saw four ghostly-grey shapes moving along under the trees with the badgers’ familiar lumbering gait. He yapped to warn them of his presence.

  ‘Why, you’ve come quite the wrong way!’ cried the sow badger. ‘Now you’ve a long trek indeed ahead of you.’

  ‘Had to move – dogs,’ muttered Bold. ‘Afraid I can’t go . . . any further tonight.’

  ‘He’s exhausted,’ said one of the young badgers unnecessarily.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ demanded one of the others of its mother.

  ‘I don’t know for sure,’ she answered. ‘This is very awkward.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ groaned Bold. ‘But I was lucky to escape.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘I understand.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Well, if you can’t be moved, you can’t,’ she pronounced. ‘So I’ll have to stay here with you. However, there’s no need for all of us to remain behind. You three must go back – now. Four badgers in a wood without a set are too conspicuous. Off with you – and don’t stop till you’re home.’

  ‘I could try again tomorrow,’ Bold offered weakly.

  ‘Yes, well – we’ll have to,’ said the sow badger. ‘Now I must go foraging again.’

  The strange wood provided less easy titbits than her familiar one. She brought him a shrew, some bitter bulbs, and a dead toad that had not been quick enough to bury itself away from the first frosts.

  ‘You must eat, too,’ Bold remonstrated as she watched over him.

  ‘I managed to dig up a few roots for myself,’ she answered unconcernedly. She followed his progress through the meal. ‘The crow told me your history,’ she informed him.

  ‘My history?’ Bold asked. ‘Ugh, this toad has an evil taste!’

  ‘Your origins.’

  ‘Oh – the Reserve.’

  ‘I’d never heard of White Deer Park. Of course, the birds know a far wider area of country. But your father – ’

  ‘Yes,’ sighed the young fox. ‘He does seem to be rather well known . . .’

  ‘Were you perhaps trying to escape from that?’ the badger asked him subtly.

  ‘Yes, in a way. But my main idea was to live beyond the confines of the Park. It promised a more exciting existence.’

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly made up for any lack of excitement in your earlier life,’ she remarked. ‘But at what cost!’

  Bold said, ‘For better or worse, it’s my life now.’

  The following evening the two animals prepared to begin the journey back to the game wood. They had eaten a meal together in companionable silence. Bold had chosen a name for his friend. He called her Shadow because of her constant watch over him. She was amused at the name and seemed rather pleased. They went back through the ditch this time in the opposite direction.

  Bold’s stamina was still at a low ebb, but he thought he might have sufficient strength to get as far as the gorse patch where he had been lying when the shooting had begun. Their progress was painfully slow.

  ‘I’m relieved that your poor eye has healed,’ Shadow had said, ‘because you took that knock on my account.’ Bold did not tell her that he now realized that his sight had been permanently damaged.

  They left the ditch and started across country, Bold hobbling along laboriously. He was very conscious of the fact that his companion was exposing herself to danger because of his slowness. There was almost no real cover until they were amongst the gorse thickets. If daylight should come before they reached them, he must make her run on ahead.

  However, they reached shelter witho
ut mishap while the darkness held out. For some time during the last stretch of ground Bold had stumbled along blindly, willing his protesting body forward in a sort of haze of exhaustion. When they got amongst the gorse he crashed to the ground like a stone, certain that he could never rise again.

  ‘Bold fox, brave fox,’ Shadow murmured compassionately. But he didn’t hear her.

  They both slept the clock round until the welcome dusk once again folded them in its soft blanket of concealment. Shadow set off as usual in her quest for food. She had not travelled far when she saw, to her astonishment, her three youngsters in the distance apparently on a search. They greeted her delightedly and immediately wanted to know all about Bold.

  ‘It’s going to be a longer job than I’d hoped,’ she told them.

  ‘We’ve hidden some food for you a short way back,’ said one of the males. ‘Where do we bring it to?’

  Shadow explained and they trotted off to fetch the supplies. On their return they found their parent running towards them in consternation. ‘He’s gone!’ she cried. ‘Bold has disappeared!’

  —— 8 ——

  Alone Again

  Bold had watched Shadow set off on her foraging with misgiving. He hated his position of reliance on another. The very thing he had revelled in before – his complete independence – had been completely destroyed. And now, because of his uselessness, he was subjecting another creature to risks he had no right to expect her to share. She – and the crow – had saved him from death. The debt was paid. So, soon after her back was turned, he hauled himself carefully to his feet. His long sleep had refreshed him and he was able to limp out of sight, round the other side of the thickets.

  Bold was not sure what to do next. All that he knew was that he would no longer expose Shadow to the danger of being in his company. If possible, he would make his own slow way to the pheasant coverts and the refuge of her set, and if not . . . so be it! His only concern was that she might come looking for him, but he hoped that she would eventually have the sense to make ground to her own home before dawn threatened. He set his immediate sights on reaching the nearest farmed field. This lay on the other side of a hedgerow which formed the border between farmland and the open country. He knew Shadow would never search for him in such a place.

  The darkness, at least, obscured his intentions from her as he staggered into the gloom. It was a cold, starlit night without a breath of air and the frosty grass made a crisp whispering noise as he trod it underfoot. The spectral form of a Barn Owl glided over his head on its silent wings. He saw it hover over the hedgerow, then swoop down, pounce, and rise again almost in one uninterrupted movement. So there was food there too! Perhaps he would be lucky enough to kill something himself for a change, if he did not set himself too distant a target.

  Bold’s damaged leg had loosened up slightly during his recent bouts of enforced exercise and he was surprised – and pleased – at the way he managed to keep going. His exhaustion the previous night had largely been due, he decided, to clambering in and out of the ditch. Now he began to hope that he might be over the worst.

  As the first faintly perceptible lightening of the sky heralded the end of the night, Bold lurched into the hedgerow. It was made up of a thick band of closely-knit vegetation that was a perfect resting-place, and here he was to have his first piece of good luck for days. He discovered another fox’s abandoned earth, and inside it were the remains of numerous catches. Stale and smelly though they were, the famished Bold made a hearty meal. Used to poor fare for so long, it was the closest thing to a feast for him since the last pheasant. So, replete and well content, he gratefully fell into a much-needed sleep.

  The next day he awoke before the light had faded and immediately finished off the last few scraps. He left the earth and looked out across a field sown with swede. Here was another food source that he could use in necessity, for the young vegetables were just beginning to thrust themselves out of the soil. Bold’s spirits rose considerably. He felt stronger, more hopeful than he had been for a long time. Now, if he could only prove to himself he could still catch his prey – no matter how insignificant – then he really would feel he was on the road to recovery. There would be no need then for Shadow’s set or her ministrations.

  Bold set himself to explore the hedgerow and its occupants. Songbirds returning to their roosts fluted and warbled amongst the remaining November greenery. There were inviting rustlings amongst the twigs and dead leaves underfoot. A squirrel raced along the top of the shrubbery like a furry goblin, intent on finding a safe perch to enjoy a hazel nut. Bold slunk along with his uneven gait, ears cocked, nose working overtime to identify every new scent. He stopped dead as he spied a vole squatting on a low twig, balancing on its hind legs while it examined some bryony berries. It was at eye level and well within reach. The fox crept forward another couple of centimetres, holding his bad leg out of the way. The vole remained unaware of his presence. Another centimetre. And another. Snap! Bold’s jaws caught on the little beast’s tail as it leapt for safety. His grip was not good enough and his lunge forward from three legs tilted him off balance. He went sprawling at the hedge bottom and the vole escaped with no more than a painful nip and a fright. Bold rose and shook himself, ashamed of his indignity. Once again, as in the incident with the dormouse, his ability to catch even small prey had been found lacking. The resulting loss of confidence made him unwilling to test his technique again. To be bested by such tiny creatures! It was mortifying to him. He stared across at the field of young swedes. That was to be the limit of his expectations now, For, with a bitterness born of his incapacity, Bold knew he could never again hunt live prey.

  He limped out of the hedgerow towards the root crop sown by Man. It was simple to scratch up the ripening tubers and then to fill his belly with the sweetest of them. The added satisfaction that arose from raiding a food supply of the humans made them taste the sweeter. It was Man that had brought him to this low point and he would avenge himself where he could. Suddenly Bold stopped munching and stood motionless. Yes! That was his future now! The humans would be made to pay for his injury. Wherever they stored food or left edibles lying around he, the fox cub Bold, would capitalize upon it. Men would provide him with the food they had deprived him of catching himself.

  Sustained by this promising and daring idea, Bold finished his supper and retired to the earth in the hedgerow to mull it over. It was an excellent plan that would require a mixture of caution and courage, he decided. He was no longer in a position to challenge Man by daylight for he had no turn of speed. His movements must therefore be strictly during the dark hours. So when night fell on his meditations, he issued forth for a second raid on the vegetable field.

  As he went about his task, feeling more light-hearted now in the new role he had assumed for himself, he became aware of a ghostly shape moving about on the far side of the field. He hobbled hopefully towards it. To his delight he found Shadow the she-badger enjoying the same tasty roots. As he approached she looked up in alarm and prepared for flight.

  ‘Wait!’ he called to her. ‘It’s Bold! Your friend!’

  Shadow paused and waited for the fox to come up. ‘Alas,’ she said, ‘we badgers don’t have your keen sight, otherwise . . . But I’m glad to see you!’ she finished enthusiastically. ‘We’d given you up for lost.’

  Bold explained the reason for his disappearance.

  ‘I understand you,’ she said quietly. ‘But you’re too particular. We really wanted to help.’

  ‘I know,’ Bold answered. ‘But, for me, it’s better this way.’

  ‘Then I can’t persuade you to come back with me to the set now?’

  ‘No. But thank you. I have another plan.’

  Shadow regarded him with interest. ‘Do enlighten me,’ she urged.

  ‘I’m going to live off the humans,’ Bold answered simply.

  Shadow’s jaws dropped open. ‘You mean –’

  ‘I mean whenever and however I can,’ he
finished for her.

  ‘Well!’ Her eyes held admiration. ‘So you still intend to live up to your name?’

  Bold was pleased with that remark. ‘I shall try,’ he replied. ‘But I shan’t take stupid risks.’

  ‘Won’t that restrict you?’

  ‘Of course it will,’ he said. ‘But what does that matter? A beast in my condition can’t afford risks except minor ones. From what my father told me of human behaviour, wherever they are in evidence food is there for the picking.’

  ‘But a different sort of food from your preference?’ queried Shadow.

  ‘I’m already getting used to that,’ he assured her. ‘I may have to adapt further still . . .’

  ‘What about your den?’ she asked next.

  ‘I already have one base,’ said Bold, looking over his shoulder. ‘Over there – in the hedgerow.’

  ‘Underground?’

  ‘Exactly. A very lucky find.’

  ‘You certainly seem well set up,’ said Shadow, ‘and if you can adapt your diet as you say . . .’

  ‘If I have to, I will,’ Bold said with conviction.

  ‘I respect your determination,’ she told him.

  Bold enjoyed her flattery. It made it seem he did have a purpose, after all, rather than it being just a question of eking out an existence. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose I might see you from time to time?’

  ‘Very likely,’ she said. ‘Or one of my family.’

  ‘Till then, Shadow, my friend,’ Bold said brightly.

  ‘Good luck,’ she whispered, and they parted.

  Bold limped back to the earth, greatly heartened. He felt a keen anticipation for the beginning of his campaign on the morrow.

  —— 9 ——

  A Good Catch

  Bold could not sleep for a long time. He was excited by what he felt was a new beginning in his life. The unmistakable sound of human voices pierced his consciousness a couple of times during the day, serving as a pertinent reminder of the challenge he had set himself.