The Farthing Wood Collection 1 Page 8

  Farthing Wood and all it represented was drawing Lame Otter and Long-Whiskers steadily towards it. They had eaten well by the pond and were in good spirits as they continued homewards.

  ‘Do you think we can reach our stream easily?’ Long-Whiskers asked her companion who now, also, had become her mate. ‘Or will we always be in danger?’

  ‘We must take every precaution,’ the dog otter replied. ‘And, regretfully, my company will make the journey slower and seem longer than it would be if you were on your own.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t be making it on my own,’ she assured him gently.

  ‘Well then, we are content.’ Lame Otter limped by her side. He tried not to think about what would happen to the other if one of them met with an accident. ‘We must aim for the Metal Ponds where we caught all those fish. If we find our way there without trouble, we should be over the worst.’

  ‘Do you ever think about the foxes?’ Long-Whiskers asked.

  ‘Sometimes. I have cause enough,’ Lame Otter answered, remembering the fight that had disabled him.

  ‘Perhaps if we steal into our holt by the stream quietly, no-one will know we’re there.’

  ‘Did you have a den?’

  ‘Yes. Where I was born.’

  ‘Are you attached to it?’

  ‘I suppose so. Did you have a different plan?’

  ‘No. I shall be happy where you’re happy. And your comfort must be paramount.’

  ‘Thank you. My holt is a snug home for cubs.’

  They fell silent, full of thoughts of a new generation of Farthing Wood otters. They didn’t reach the trout farm that night. Lame Otter’s leg was painful and Long-Whiskers persuaded him to rest. They took shelter in a rabbit burrow, intending to move on the next night. The rabbits panicked as the otters entered the warren. Most of them took flight, but Long-Whiskers pounced on a youngster who hesitated, and she and her mate enjoyed a feast.

  ‘Will we ever eat fish again?’ Long-Whiskers sighed.

  The same thought had occurred to Lame Otter. But he said, ‘As long as we eat. That’s all we can hope for at present.’

  They slept during the daylight hours and at dusk the next day, fully refreshed, they set off again. Lame Otter’s spirits were buoyant. ‘You know, I’ve had a feeling of confidence since we made our decision,’ he told his companion. ‘I’m sure everything is going to work out for us. It’s as though we have earned our right to survive because we’re the last Farthing Wood otters. We have to do so for the sake of the rest of them.’

  Long-Whiskers was encouraged by his words. Neither of them had spoken of Sleek Otter. Now Long-Whiskers said, ‘You really believe we are the last now?’

  ‘There can’t be any doubt, can there? There never was any chance of any of us living permanently out here. I have realized that for a long time.’

  In the middle of the night they caught sight of the trout lake and the buildings around the trout farm. Lame Otter let out a whistle of delight. ‘There!’ he cried joyfully. ‘That’s our landmark. The most dangerous part is over for us. We’re almost home. Come on, we can have a swim!’

  They loped to the lake and dived in gratefully. Their delight in swimming made them a little reckless, and they were still happily playing in the water when dawn broke. Their antics were spotted by the very dog that had killed one of their old companions. The animal yelped excitedly outside its kennel, fetching its owner, who had then scarcely stepped out of bed, hurrying down to quieten it. It wasn’t long before the man discovered the reason for his dog’s outburst. He watched the otter pair for a while through binoculars, and then went to telephone a friend who was an enthusiastic member of the local Wildlife Trust. In very little time a party was assembled and on the move to the trout farm. It was hoped that on this occasion, finally, a capture would successfully be made.

  The otters’ sport came abruptly to an end when they heard the dog bark. They submerged and paddled along the lake bottom. Lame Otter broke the surface briefly to keep a look-out. The dog had disappeared by then. The otters left the lake hurriedly while the coast was clear. All this was noted by the dog’s owner. He took care to follow their direction so that he could give the appropriate advice. Naturally the conservationists’ plan was to head the animals off.

  Lame Otter and Long-Whiskers ran across country. They remembered the hedgerow where they had hidden with their five companions, and hoped to take shelter there again. As they ran a Land-Rover entered a field ahead of them, stopped suddenly and disgorged a handful of eager people. The people came quickly towards them, pointing and gesticulating. The otters knew only too well what this meant. This time there were no brilliant lights but the animals hadn’t forgotten the terrifying experience near the railway line. They turned instinctively and ran back towards the lake, the only place now where they knew they could hide themselves. Lame Otter lagged behind. He gasped, ‘Save yourself! Don’t wait for me.’

  Long-Whiskers looked back. The men were closer. With extreme anguish she forced herself to abandon him. She knew she must survive now at all costs if the Farthing Wood race of otters was not to be extinguished forever. All at once her sharp eyes saw a burrow entrance in the corner of the field under a group of trees. She called excitedly. ‘Here! Here! We’re saved.’ She had no idea this was the entrance to a badger set, and not a rabbit burrow.

  Lame Otter made a supreme effort as he saw the hole. Long-Whiskers vanished inside as he laboured to make his escape. The humans were almost close enough to grab him. He heard their thudding footsteps and their quick breathing. A shadow began to envelop him. He remembered the nets. He dived for safety. The darkness of the tunnel enclosed him. He smelt not the smell of rabbit, but of badger. And then, ahead, a violent commotion broke out. Long-Whiskers had run straight into the sow badger’s nursery chamber where her new-born young were suckling. The badger reared up angrily to protect her cubs from the intruder. She lashed out at Long-Whiskers with her powerful claws and lunged at the smaller animal with her sharp teeth. At this season the mother badger had a fierce nature, her one imperative being to raise and defend her young. Long-Whiskers backed away. She was wounded, but not severely. The badger sow launched another attack, this time with the purpose of killing the otter who posed such a threat to her litter.

  Now Lame Otter came into the fray, in his turn trying to defend his mate. The badger, furious at the sight of a second intruder, called up reinforcements from elsewhere in the set. A tremendous and vicious battle began. The otters were outnumbered and outmatched in power and strength. They had no chance.

  Outside the set the group of people heard the furious growlings and roarings of the badgers and the shrieks and yelps of the injured otters. They knew only too well what the outcome of such an uneven contest would be. They waited vainly for the otters to retreat up the tunnel. Retreat was their only hope of avoiding certain death. Gradually the angry snarls subsided into silence. Even then the human onlookers continued to wait. None of them spoke. Each felt that their well-meant plans to save the otters and return them to their rightful home had somehow been blighted. Every one of their attempts to help had backfired. Sadly they had put the animals into greater jeopardy by their good intentions.

  One man said, ‘Another failure. No otter could come out of there alive. Not from a badger’s set in the breeding season.’

  A woman said, ‘We must wait a bit. Just in case …’ But she herself knew that the otters had been slain. It was inconceivable that their presence in the set would be tolerated.

  ‘Were these the last two?’ another man asked.

  ‘Probably,’ said the first man. ‘The other female was killed by a car. There have been no other reports.’

  ‘Then we’ve all lost.’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  Wearily and miserably the party trudged back to their vehicle. Each of them were only too aware what might result from the permanent loss of an otter population in Farthing Wood. They didn’t voice their thoughts. They were
too dejected. They climbed into the Land-Rover quietly, avoiding each other’s glances. Soon the field was empty again.

  Following this incident the local press printed a report from the Wildlife Trust about its fear that the last of the Farthing Wood otters had perished. A description of their unfortunate demise as a result of entering a badgers’ set was given. No further sightings of otters had been made in the area. It was therefore regretfully to be assumed that no other animals still survived.

  For a brief period Farthing Wood seemed to breathe more freely. Sickness was on the wane. Nervous Squirrel was quiet. The animals were left to themselves. Then, abruptly, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered. Outside the Wood and beyond the stream, on the surrounding grassland, there was much activity. Men arrived with machines and tools and began to cut a swathe through the tall grasses. In no time they had made a wide, straight path which Jay, from a high perch, could see stretched back from the hinterland towards the area whence they all knew the humans came.

  ‘A trail!’ he screeched. ‘A human trail in the grass!’ The animals heard and Nervous Squirrel bounded to the top of an ash tree. ‘M-many strangers!’ he called, flicking his tail in extreme excitement. ‘B-busy strangers!’

  Sage Hedgehog knew without going to investigate that the moment he had dreaded had come. The humans were too far away for his old eyes to perceive that they were building a road to give them easy access to the centre of their interest. But he shook his head over his fellow woodlanders’ refusal to comprehend the perils which he had warned about.

  ‘Such foolhardy blindness,’ he muttered. ‘Now their eyes will be opened.’ He left his roost and went to see how the other animals were coping with the revelation. He expected to see signs that at last Farthing Wood was reacting to the danger now only too evident on its doorstep. Once again the community surprised him. The animals appeared to be continuing with their usual habits and movements, regardless of any new development. He found another hedgehog contentedly munching some grubs dug from a piece of rotten wood.

  ‘Didn’t you hear the cry from the tree-tops?’ the old creature asked, amazed by the hedgehog’s placidity.

  ‘Of course I did. Isn’t that silly squirrel forever calling some message or other? Such an irritating animal!’

  ‘Well, he has something to call about now, doesn’t he?’ snapped Sage Hedgehog, annoyed by the other’s lack of concern.

  ‘What’s so different about this time?’

  ‘Do you need me to explain? The humans have come to stay.’

  The younger hedgehog looked less assured suddenly. ‘To stay? Where?’ he asked faintly.

  ‘Too close to us. They’re busy in the grassy area.’

  ‘The grassland? Oh, that’s too far from here to worry about,’ said the younger animal. ‘It’s hours of travelling.’ And of course, to a hedgehog it was. ‘Would you like a share of these fat larvae? They’re very tasty.’

  ‘Food is of no consequence in the circumstances,’ Sage Hedgehog replied sourly and turned his back on the heedless animal.

  Sly Stoat watched the approach of the ancient hedgehog prophet and quickly hid behind the trunk of a tall oak. But he wasn’t quick enough. Sage Hedgehog saw movement.

  ‘Why try to avoid me? What are you afraid of? That I might speak the truth?’

  Sly Stoat muttered out of earshot, ‘Afraid of? More bad news, I suppose.’ Despite his mate’s death, because of the decline in the numbers of sick animals in the Wood Sly Stoat was of the opinion that the otters’ revenge had run its course. He slipped into the open. ‘Come on, you old doom-carrier, what have you for us this time?’

  ‘Nothing for you,’ Sage Hedgehog answered primly. ‘I wouldn’t waste my breath. I’m on my way to talk with the more intelligent members of the community.’

  ‘The foxes? Ha! They’re too wrapped up in fetching and carrying for their mates. Don’t you know, families take up a lot of time?’

  ‘I’ve heard such words from others before,’ Sage Hedgehog replied wearily. ‘Almost the same words. And I can assure you I know all there is to know about young and their needs and demands. I wasn’t always old. But now that I am old I have the time to look beyond such immediate concerns where perhaps others haven’t. I love this place and I shall continue to do all I can to persuade others that it’s vital that we all think about ways of saving it.’

  Sly Stoat was humbled. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘We sometimes don’t give you the credit you deserve. We should recognize your warnings are driven by the care you have for Farthing Wood. A care we all, of course, share in our own way. Yet is there so very much to concern ourselves with? The sickness has abated and, so far as human presence goes, none of us, I’m sure, will be so foolish as to venture anywhere near the grassland while they’re there.’

  ‘So you do know of their presence?’

  ‘The squirrel sees to that, doesn’t he?’

  Sage Hedgehog was silent for a while and he looked at Sly Stoat pensively. It was evident to him that the stoat, like the young hedgehog, couldn’t see beyond the present. Perhaps only he himself had that ability. He sighed. ‘Are there none of you far-sighted enough to make plans for the future?’ he murmured. But Sly Stoat had already reverted to thinking about his empty stomach. He fidgeted, impatient to be off. Sage Hedgehog left him to his own devices.

  The badgers were ready to talk. Kindly Badger realized something needed to be done. ‘Human activity is always worrying,’ he said. ‘I fear for my youngsters. They won’t grow up in a Wood free from interference as I and my mate did.’

  ‘I am so thankful to have your attention,’ the old hedgehog said. ‘The stout fox understands my fears but is too engrossed in domestic affairs to act on them.’

  ‘What can we do?’ asked the badger.

  ‘We have to make plans. We can’t continue to believe our lives will remain unaffected.’

  ‘We’re powerless to alter the course of any human plans,’ said Kindly Badger, shaking his head. ‘What plans can we make?’

  ‘You’re a thoughtful animal and your size makes you more likely to be respected than I,’ Sage Hedgehog told him. ‘You can perhaps make the others understand they have to think about the future, even if our generation will complete its cycle without tragedy. They must do this for the sake of their youngsters and those still to come.’

  ‘I think I follow your reasoning,’ Kindly Badger remarked. Sage Hedgehog’s words were, as always, difficult to interpret for ordinary beasts such as himself who hadn’t the gift of prophecy. The old hedgehog seemed often to be on a kind of higher plane. ‘I’ll discuss everything with my mate,’ the badger resumed. ‘The sow badger is such a comfort to me. We’ll try to find a way of involving all the woodlanders.’

  Sage Hedgehog nodded. He thought there was very little more he could hope to achieve for the moment. ‘I’m grateful to you,’ he said. ‘And I trust that others, too, will have cause to be so before long.’

  Over the next few days the lives of the Farthing Wood animals were punctuated at regular intervals by cries from Jay or Nervous Squirrel reporting human developments.

  ‘A wide path with machines!’ shrieked Jay.

  ‘More and m-more humans,’ chattered Nervous Squirrel.

  ‘Grass going bit by bit,’ Jay called.

  ‘B-busy humans making m-mud,’ Nervous Squirrel cried.

  The animals paused and tensed each time they heard a cry. Those in their daytime dens huddled closer for a while. The distant hum of human endeavour – engines, voices – droned constantly in daylight hours. For most of the animals, it was too faint to bother them unduly. Kindly Badger began to wonder what would happen if the grassland disappeared.

  ‘The rabbits will move closer to the Wood,’ the sow badger remarked. ‘As the hares have done.’

  ‘Which means the humans will have done so too,’ Young Badger pointed out shrewdly.

  ‘Quite right, my son,’ the kindly old boar said. ‘And then we shall all feel as
if they’re spying on us. Life won’t be very comfortable for the birds and beasts who are around in the daytime.’

  ‘Let them worry about that,’ his mate suggested.

  ‘I don’t know. We’re all together in this in a way. It’s our Wood we’re talking about. We all live here. I’d like to get the opinions of some other animals. We ought to do something.’

  ‘What? What can we do?’

  ‘Well, think about protecting ourselves as best we can. You know, keeping our secrecy as wild animals, and simply maintaining our natural behaviour. Humans can be very inquisitive and disruptive.’

  ‘What shall we do, Father?’ asked Young Badger.

  ‘I think we need to get together with the other senior animals – as many as we can persuade – and talk things over. We could meet any night in the centre of the Wood – somewhere that’s a good gathering place.’

  ‘Everyone knows where the middle of the Wood is,’ the sow badger said. ‘By the Great Beech.’

  ‘It’ll be difficult to get the smaller animals to come along,’ Kindly Badger reflected. ‘They won’t feel safe unless they’re given a kind of promise.’

  ‘Well then, give them one.’

  Kindly Badger fell to thinking. ‘It’ll need the foxes’ co-operation,’ he murmured, ‘and that’s not an easy thing to arrange.’

  So it was to prove. Lean Vixen scoffed at the notion of a promise. ‘An absurd idea,’ she said. ‘To think that foxes would commit themselves in any such way. If you want to have a meeting; fine. But let everyone come at his or her own risk.’

  ‘The badger’s not so silly,’ Lean Fox disagreed as he often did. ‘We should have as many wise heads as we can get. Some of the smaller animals, such as the weasels and stoats, have a kind of cunning all their own. I, for one, would be willing to listen to them. They may have ideas that would be useful for all of us. I would promise to leave them unmolested.’