by Bob Cregan
Musty Digs Too Deep
Bob Cregan
Cover and text is Copyright © 2016 Bob Cregan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For Linda, Anna and Jenny
Ros - the bottle is in the post.
Musty Digs Too Deep
There was a bare patch in the forest. No trees grew there, no plants larger than a blade of grass found a foothold. The grass was short; you would think it was grazed, but no farmer dared send his animals to feed upon this wild hillside, for grass was not the only thing which rose up from the earth in this special place.
In the centre of the clearing a number of massive stones stood in a circle. In the middle of this ring rose one more stone; a single monolith which, unlike the others, lay on its side like an altar. The rocks looked like they had been either thrust bodily into the ground by a giant hand, or had erupted from below, like a rejection by the earth itself. It did not matter which of these impressions an observer was left with, for neither looked natural; none of these stones belonged amongst the surrounding woods and fields. And it was this sense of something alien, together with the absence of wild vegetation, which gave the local farmers pause when it came to committing their herds to the spot.
The grass was kept short by visiting rabbits, and indeed the wild creatures of the wood seemed not to mind the place at all; deer helped the rabbits to keep down the grass, and on a steep slope, just outside the edge of the stones, a series of ten or so earthen holes indicated the presence of a group of badgers.
This story concerns one of these creatures; one of the youngest. His name could translate as “Musty’ for his unusual odour was how his family identified him and how they referred to him when communicating with the other badgers. He was a curious badger, wild and adventurous, always digging - forever extending the sett though it was not really needed as it was already very large. His mother would lay her ears back in disapproval as he came back, fur hazy with dust, having expanded a chamber or created a new passage. Such efforts in her view just increased the risk of collapse or of one of the youngsters getting lost. To Musty they were a fascinating distraction.
The sett was unusual. People left it alone, because of their fear of the stones, and as a result the passages were long and very old, its chambers high and airy. It was extensive enough to include in its boundaries three of the largest stones; they jutted into the set like vast alien statues and their bulk gave stability to some of the largest chambers.
It was one day in early Autumn when Musty woke to three stabbing pains. Each originated from a different part of his body, but they all had the same cause. Three cubs - the sett was full of them at this time of year - had made their way to where he was sleeping and were nibbling him, his tail and back feet being the target.
Musty shook them off, gave a growl and lunged menacingly to make sure they were sufficiently alarmed so they might run away and leave him alone, at least for a while. When the sound of paws had disappeared around the corner, Musty sat, licked his wounds and considered what he should do about these little menaces. In characteristic fashion he decided that a new chamber must be built. One sufficiently away from the centre of the sett to make unwelcome visits, such as the one he had just received, unlikely.
Whilst cleaning his tail he considered where he should start his new construction. The shape of the set below ground roughly followed the arc of the stone circle above. Anywhere along that line would not do thought Musty; it was where the sows raised their cubs.
To dig out, away from the centre of the stone circle, would not be practical. The ground dropped away sharply on that side, and expansion that way would mean a lot of work digging downwards.
So Musty decided to dig inwards. There was more space that way as none of his ancestors had chosen to expand the sett in that direction. Indeed no tunnels went that way at all, except one - the mysterious one called “The long Way”. As its name implied it was a long straight tunnel, or at least that is what the echoes told any badger who pointed their head down its length. No one knew for certain however, for neither Musty, nor any living badger, had passed into its depths for generations. Older badgers snuffled and shook their heads in agitation when cubs showed interest in The Long Way. Any illicit wanderings were discouraged with a sharp nip, and so the tradition grew - you did not go down that tunnel.
Musty had long harboured a desire to explore it, though the atmosphere of fear surrounding the path made his fur stand on end. And so, with his tail and feet still stinging from the teeth of the cubs, and with the confidence of youth, he decided that a small burrow down there would be ideal. He would at least be be undisturbed for the winter sleep; no cubs would dare explore in that direction. He need not go far down to achieve this, just far enough so any badgers nearby could not smell him and go to investigate.
