The Animals of Farthing Wood Page 5

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Adder. How could you hold on?’ said Weasel.

  ‘I could coil myself round his neck,’ Adder replied with a hint of malice.

  ‘Don’t be so unpleasant,’ retorted Hare, who had overheard. ‘I really can’t see what benefit to our party you are at all.’

  Adder merely bared his fangs at this rejoinder, and Hare accelerated his family a little further up the column.

  At length the animals turned the last corner. Ahead of them, about a hundred yards distant, lay the trunk road, and beyond that the last few yards of the fenced-off army land which they had to skirt before they reached the first open fields.

  Very slowly now, they advanced along the last road on the estate. Houses still posed a threat on either side, but now it was only a matter of minutes rather than hours duration. As they proceeded, four o’clock struck.

  Halfway down the road they could hear Tawny Owl hooting to them; soon they could see him flying towards them.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ he said, landing beside Fox. ‘I thought you’d got lost.’

  ‘Oh no. Nothing like that,’ Fox answered. ‘Toad knew all the right turnings. He’s been marvellous. But this walking on hard roads is terribly tiring.’

  ‘The other birds have all found roosts and gone to sleep,’ Tawny Owl told him. ‘You’d better find somewhere quickly, where you can hide up during the day. It’ll be light in a couple of hours.’

  ‘Any ideas?’ asked Fox. ‘You’ve had a chance to look round.’

  ‘There’s a big gorse thicket just inside the railings of the army land,’ Tawny Owl answered. ‘I’d recommend that. There’s plenty of room for everyone. And no humans ever come down to that far corner. I’ll go ahead now and keep an eye open for traffic. See you in a minute.’

  He launched himself into flight and disappeared swiftly into the blackness ahead.

  The last few yards of the road took the longest of any to cover, but the animals finally arrived together at the trunk road, where they rested on the pavement. Tawny Owl was perched on the railings on the other side of the road.

  ‘There’s no traffic,’ he called across.

  ‘Right-o, Owl,’ Fox answered him. ‘We’ll get the youngsters across first. Hare, you can manage your family, and the hedgehogs and rabbits too. Owl will show you where to go.’

  Hare put himself in charge of the first party, and under his direction they scuttled quickly across the wide road, and then followed Tawny Owl through the railings to the haven of the gorse patch.

  Fox stood on the edge of the pavement, scanning the road in both directions for headlights. It was still clear.

  ‘Come along, voles and fieldmice,’ he called. ‘Weasel, will you take them across? Quickly as you can.’

  The second party took a little longer to cross, but reached the other side without mishap. Tawny Owl, who had returned to his perch on the topmost bar of the railings, repeated his task of guiding the animals to the gorse. They found that many of the young rabbits and hedgehogs had already dropped asleep.

  ‘Good. Not many of us left now. Adder, you’ll take the lizards across, please,’ Fox ordered. Adder leered his consent. He was too tired to answer.

  Everybody in this third party travelled so close to the ground that, in the darkness, the anxious Fox lost them from sight when they had covered only half the distance. He continued to scan the road in both directions. To his horror, in the far distance to his left, he saw a gleam of light. This rapidly increased in size.

  ‘Adder, are you over yet?’ he called urgently. ‘There’s a car approaching.’

  ‘Nearly there,’ Adder rasped. ‘Come on, come on, quickly.’ Fox could hear him hurrying the lizards.

  Tawny Owl flew to the roadside to see if he could be of assistance. Adder and the lizards still had a couple of yards to cross, and the lights were very close now. The lizards put on a final spurt, and darted towards Tawny Owl. But Adder, with no projections on the flat surface to ease his passage, could only continue to wriggle across the road in an ungainly fashion. In the next second the lizards, who were just mounting the pavement, Tawny Owl and Adder were all caught in the beam of the car’s headlamps.

  ‘He’ll never do it,’ Fox whispered in horror to Badger. ‘He’s going to be hit!’

  Then, miraculously, the beam of light swung slightly to the right, towards the animals still waiting to cross. The car was manoeuvring to turn into the estate road, and actually passed right by the struggling snake. Adder was safe.

  The lizards had turned on the pavement to watch the fate of their large reptile cousin. As his head, with its sinister red eyes, appeared over the kerb, they cheered in excitement.

  ‘A trifle close for comfort,’ drawled Adder, as he slithered towards Tawny Owl.

  ‘You’re very lucky,’ Tawny Owl said unfeelingly. ‘Now quickly, this way. We’re being investigated.’ They disappeared through the railings.

  The driver had stopped his car just inside the estate road down which the animals had travelled. He had first seen, in his headlights, Adder and Tawny Owl; the lizards were too small to distinguish. Then, as he turned the car, the lights had swept the opposite pavement, taking in Fox, Badger and Mole, Toad and the squirrels. In amazement, he hurriedly stopped and got out to look.

  ‘Quick, make a dash for it!’ Fox urged them, and with the squirrels and Badger right behind him, he raced across the road just as the car driver arrived on the scene.

  Safely on the other side, Fox looked round in dismay. ‘Where’s Toad?’ the animals all cried together. ‘We’ve forgotten Toad!’

  Sure enough, at that very moment as they looked back, they saw the man bend down to examine something on the pavement. Then he looked all around for some moments. They held their breath. The man bent down again, and prodded the pavement with his shoe.

  Toad, who at the best of times would not have been fast enough to escape pursuit, was so tired he could hardly move at all. As he felt the toe of the man’s shoe touch him, he shuffled a mere couple of inches towards the road. His friends were all on the safe side of the road and he felt completely abandoned. The man’s shoe started to move towards him again. The next thing he knew, there was a flurry of wings above him, followed by a sharp cry of pain.

  Then Fox was by his side. ‘Fast as you can, up my tail,’ he whispered. Toad grasped Fox’s thick brush, and clutching tightly with his front feet, pulled himself slowly up. Fox did not stop more than a moment. Once he was sure Toad was off the ground, he raced back across the road again, with Toad hanging grimly on behind.

  Tawny Owl had stretched out his talons and skimmed the man’s head, raking through his hair. The man’s arms flailed wildly upwards and caught the bird a glancing blow on the back, but Tawny Owl, seeing that Fox and Toad were out of danger, flew steadily upwards in a wide arc until the man could no longer see him. Then he flew back over the road, and over the railings, landing by the gorse patch. The moment of danger had passed.

  Tawny Owl looked through the thick, interlocking strands of gorse. Most of the animals seemed to be silent, and in the dimness he could make out various shapes huddled together.

  ‘Thanks, Owl,’ he heard Fox whisper. ‘All safe now. Everyone’s exhausted – no wish to talk at the moment . . .’ he broke off to yawn. ‘We’re well hidden here . . . oh, I’m so tired . . . I think I’m the only one still awake. Toad’s asleep already.’

  ‘Goodnight, Fox,’ whispered Tawny Owl.

  ‘Goodnight, Owl,’ he whispered back. ‘See you in the evening.’

  Tawny Owl flew slowly away to join the other birds before it grew light. The first stage of the journey was completed.

  8

  First camp

  Mole, who had obviously been the least tired at the end of the journey through the estate, was the first to wake the next evening. It was still daylight. He looked all round at his companions, to see if there was anyone awake that he could talk to. But they all continued to sleep, their bodies rising
and falling rhythmically; a gentle rhythm that had been undisturbed by the daytime traffic noise, or by passing pedestrians.

  Again there had been no rain, and the air Mole sniffed inquisitively was moistureless and still. He was acutely hungry, and wondered if he should begin to dig for worms. Perhaps Badger had other ideas. When they woke, everyone would want to eat.

  They had all been too exhausted even to consider food the previous night, but it had been many hours since any of them had eaten, and their stomachs would all feel uncomfortably empty. Mole looked at each of his companions again, but there were still no signs of life. He thought to himself that, after all, there would not be any harm in digging up just one or two worms – even three – to help pass the time until his friends woke.

  He pulled himself out of the gorse thicket. ‘Well, goodness gracious me!’ he exclaimed. ‘Wherever did they come from?’

  A few inches away a large shallow hole had been scooped out of the ground. Inside it was a squirming mass of insects, worms and fat, juicy grubs. The temptation was too much for the famished Mole. He made a rush towards the feast.

  ‘Oh, there you are!’ he heard a voice above him. He looked up, and saw Kestrel and Tawny Owl perched side by side on a holly branch.

  ‘I . . . I was just going to sample the dish,’ Mole explained a little guiltily.

  ‘Of course. Tuck in!’ said Tawny Owl. ‘We’ve collected it together while you were sleeping. Even Pheasant helped.’

  ‘Of course I did,’ said Pheasant from underneath the tree, where he and his mate were preening themselves. ‘I unearthed most of those grubs, you know, Mole.’

  ‘Oh. Thank you, Pheasant,’ said Mole politely. ‘Can I start then?’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Tawny Owl said. ‘But where are the others?’

  ‘Still sleeping,’ answered Mole, as he selected an earthworm.

  However, their voices seemed to have roused some of the sleepers. There were rustling noises in the gorse thicket and, after a moment or two, Badger’s snout appeared through the prickles. According to his usual careful habit, he sniffed all round warily for any strange scents. Then he ventured into the open.

  ‘Hallo, Badger!’ Mole cried. ‘Come and try these earthworms – they’re magnificent! I can’t remember ever eating such succulent ones before . . .’

  ‘Hold on, hold on,’ Badger scolded good-humouredly. ‘Don’t eat them all, Mole. I know your taste for worms!’

  ‘I said to start on the food,’ remarked Tawny Owl. ‘Mole looked ravenous.’

  ‘I was,’ agreed Mole with his mouth full.

  ‘Very kind of you, Owl, to get this together for us,’ Badger remarked. ‘I think perhaps I ought to wake the others, though, so that we can divide the food fairly.’

  Mole stopped chewing, and looked guilty again. ‘I say, Badger,’ he said with embarrassment, ‘I hope I haven’t taken too much.’

  Badger looked down at the pile of worms that Mole had scraped from the hollow into a heap in front of him. ‘No, no,’ he said kindly. ‘There’s plenty for all.’ He lumbered off back into the gorse thicket, and presently there was a chorus of voices.

  The other animals began to spill out through gaps in the bushes, uttering glad cries at the sight of food. Toad was last out, crawling rather stiffly. ‘I’m still tired, but hunger comes first,’ he remarked. ‘Owl, I don’t know how to thank you for saving me last night! I didn’t get a chance to say so before – we were all so exhausted – but I’m very grateful. If it hadn’t been for you and Fox . . .’

  ‘Oh, nonsense,’ Tawny Owl said, shuffling his feet on the branch uncomfortably. ‘That is what our Oath is all about.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I thought I was lost!’ Toad said. ‘When I felt that boot touch me, and I knew I couldn’t run, I at once thought: if I’m done for, they’re done for. It was an awful moment.’

  ‘Well, well,’ Tawny Owl nodded. ‘I’m glad I could help. Now come on, Toad, eat your fill!’

  Under Badger’s direction, most of the animals were able to satisfy their appetites, with food to spare. But Hare and his family, the rabbits and the squirrels, and the little fieldmice were unable to join in, as their diet did not include insects or worms. Since they were equally as hungry as the other animals, they had to set off at once in search of their own food.

  Before they left, however, Badger consulted Fox, and it was decided that, on their return, there should be a council of the leading animals. This would be for the purpose of deciding what they should do in future about food, as, to a certain extent, they all had differing tastes.

  Eventually, only Mole was left eating, while the rest of the animals lay down, replete, to await the return of the plant-eating group. The little creature was in raptures. With a blissful expression on his pointed face, he munched his way through his stock of worms, and then looked round to see what the others had left.

  Finally he looked up. ‘Owl, wherever did you manage to dig up such worms?’ he asked. ‘I pride myself on being a connoisseur, you know, and I’ve never tasted their equal.’

  ‘Oh, Pheasant and Kestrel found a lot of them, I think,’ Tawny Owl replied, without much interest.

  ‘They weren’t difficult to find,’ said Kestrel. ‘We went to the marshy ground – plenty of ’em there. Though, if there isn’t some rain pretty soon, all that marsh will just dry up. A lot of it is dry already.’

  A greedy expression came over Mole’s face, which he quickly hid. ‘Is . . . er . . . is it far to the marshy place?’ he asked softly, trying very hard to appear nonchalant.

  ‘Not for us,’ replied Kestrel. ‘But I couldn’t say how long you’d take to get there.’

  Mole’s face dropped; then he looked quickly at Badger. Badger caught his eye. ‘We shan’t have time for that sort of thing,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to keep on the move.’

  ‘Couldn’t we . . . just have a quick look?’ the disappointed Mole said beseechingly.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Badger said. ‘I don’t think Fox will agree.’

  Fox was drowsing in the last of the sun’s rays, oblivious to all around him. He remained so, until the missing party returned.

  On their arrival back at the camp, as dusk was falling, Fox hastily organized a meeting inside the gorse thicket.

  ‘Well, everyone,’ Badger began, ‘it certainly seems that our original idea of my acting as quartermaster, and directing the collection of food for the whole party, will have to be abandoned.’

  ‘I’m afraid it will, Badger,’ said the elected leader of the rabbits, whose new position of importance had rather gone to his head. ‘It’s all right for you meat and insect-eaters, you know. But we vegetarians find worms and other creepy-crawlies most unpalatable.’

  ‘We squirrels prefer nuts and things,’ said their spokesman. ‘In any case, we’re not used to eating – or sleeping – on the ground. We really only feel at home when we’re up a tree, out of harm’s way.’

  ‘Your own individual habits may often have to be sacrificed for the benefit, even the survival, of the party,’ Badger warned him. ‘We decided all this before we left Farthing Wood. We shall not succeed in reaching our destination in one piece unless we conform.’

  ‘Perhaps then, Badger, we could all eat grass for the duration of the journey?’ suggested Rabbit. ‘There’s always plenty available. We never have to search far. It seems to me the simplest answer.’

  ‘No, no,’ Badger shook his striped head with some annoyance. ‘It would play havoc with my digestion, and that of the other meat-eaters. Anyway, I wasn’t referring to food just now. I was really thinking of how we travel, and where we rest. We must stick together. Safety in numbers, you see.’

  ‘I’m afraid there seems to be only one solution to the food problem,’ said Fox. ‘For reasons of health and comfort we must all ensure that we eat the food we’re used to – the food we like. Otherwise there’s no knowing how many will fall by the wayside.’

  ‘What do you suggest, Fox?’ asked Badger.
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  ‘I suggest this. When we stop at the end of each day’s journey, we go out in parties to obtain what food we need. The plant-eating animals would form one party, for instance; the squirrels another. We meat-eaters could hunt together, or individually. The birds can please themselves. But there is one point it will be necessary to agree upon: that is, the length of time allowed for searching for food. It should be the same for all, and we can decide on the amount of time we can spare at the end of each day. That way everyone will arrive back at the chosen resting-place at approximately the same time.’

  The animals all agreed that that was the best plan.

  ‘There’s a second very important point to discuss,’ said Toad. ‘That is, the rate and distance we travel each day.’

  ‘Surely we can’t really forecast that?’ Badger asked with a puzzled look.

  ‘No, of course not. I’ve raised the point because our resolution to travel at a pace that would be comfortable even for the slowest of us doesn’t really work in practice.’

  At this remark, Mole looked most uncomfortable, as if he were quite sure Toad was alluding to his privileged position as a passenger. But he was relieved to discover that this was not so.

  ‘The reason that we were all so tired after crossing through the housing estate last night,’ Toad went on, ‘was because for the slower animals, like myself and the lizards, the journey was too much for one day. Also, for the larger, quicker ones among us – like Fox, and Hare, and Weasel – the dreadfully slow pace at which they had to travel so that we all kept together, was fatiguing in the extreme. We’ll have to remedy this.’

  ‘I can give some help in that way,’ said the leader of the lizards. ‘We lizards have decided that it would be best, for ourselves, and for all of you, if we stay here on the army land.’

  Toad nodded his agreement. But the other animals showed their amazement. ‘This is silly,’ said Badger quietly. ‘We’ll find a way round the problem. We can’t just go off and leave you here. After all, you’re really no slower than Adder. He’s going on, aren’t you, Adder?’