by Helen Fox
“You provide the brains, Owl. We will do the work. We’re here to listen to your plan,” said the sparrow leader, who had always been a bird of few words.
“As you wish, gentlemen,” said Plato. “You take your normal flight path to the fields. Before you reach the old oak tree, you dip a good deal. The wood flies will have their eyes pinned to the sky. They’ll see you and believe we’re unaware of their plans and the valley is left empty of birds. Before you get to the fields take a wide turn to the right, fly over Penny Marshes, straight into Blossom Valley and spread out on the elm trees. The crows will split into four units and camp on the north, south, east and western walls. Swift will tell us exactly when, which could be as early as tomorrow. Before I tell you the plan and the signal you’ll be responding to, I wish to stress this. The enemy - I hate to use this word - are the frivolous wood flies who have fallen for the grasshopper’s scam. So I urge you to show a little mercy.”
The blackbird leader spoke. “We appreciate your words, Plato. They’re good and wise but when there’s a fight or attack, or whatever you want to call it, it’s usually the weak and innocent that end up dead. The wood flies, though frivolous as you called them, are not weak, but ferocious, barbaric and very dangerous, for they attack in volume. Our loyalty, you’ll agree, lies with our flocks and I’m certain the other leaders will agree as well.”
“Fair enough, gentlemen,” said Plato. “I can’t argue with that. “Now, come in closer for the next bit of the plan is crucial and it must be said in a whisper.”
The bird leaders crowded close to Plato and with great attention listened to the plan he delivered.
Twenty
Sometime later that day, Hugo returned to face the crowds of wood flies that spread out by the old oak tree.
“Where is father?” Hector whispered close to Hugo’s ear.
“He’s resting in the old men’s hollow. He’s been hindering my plans. He’s old and stubborn and lives in an age gone by. Things are different now. We have to move with the times, Hector. Anyway, he’ll be better off there. His cronies will keep him good company.”
Hugo walked a few paces closer to the crowds and his voice thundered out. “My people, tomorrow when the sun shows its full face over Sunrise Hill our swarms, led by my brother Hector, my second in command, and me, will attempt a surprise landing on Blossom Valley.”
An old female wood fly suddenly sprang up and blurted out. “You’re leading our men to this surprise landing as you call it, but for all we know it could turn into war. We don’t want to lose our sons, brothers and husbands for the sake of exchanging the ordinary life we’ve lived happily, for the snobbish upper-crust Blossom Valley. Who wants a change anyway?”
“We do! We do!” the younger wood fly generations cried out.
Hugo raised his hand, gesturing for silence. “There will be no war,” he said with calm confidence in his voice. “The surprise landing will be a kind of protest of right against wrong. Our right to live on the land the spider selfishly claims as hers, her wrongfulness in denying us this right and insulting us with her mean, hurtful remarks.”
Then Hugo’s voice brimming with pride rose across Penny Clearing. “We mustn’t let the privileged walk over the ordinary. The spider needs to learn that the wood flies are as important as any of her creatures and we have a right to invade anywhere, if it means a better life for our people.”
“Yeeess! Yeeess!” yelled the wood flies, thrusting their fists above their heads.
Exhausted by the burst of enthusiasm, pride and emotion, Hugo paused for breath. Then addressing the old female by her name he spoke again. “I respect your opinion, Anthea, as I do the opinion of all our people. But I believe a change will bring a renewed existence to our community, better conditions, and a better life. So I urge those of you who have second thoughts to raise their hands now.”
One single hand rose, that of Anthea’s.
“That’s it then,” said Hugo as he glared at Anthea, “a unanimous decision. Now I want all the females, children and elderly to move to where our brothers Phillip, Darius and Phelan are standing. They, together with our father, will take care of things. All men fall in line six abreast, march in the middle of the clearing and wait for orders.”
As everyone started to move, Anthea blurted out. “We were happier with Wilfred, our old faithful, fair and caring leader. Where is he by the way, Hugo?”
Hugo grabbed the arm of one of his men and whispered in his ear. “When everyone has gone from here, take Anthea to the women’s detention hollow. Make sure the bolt is secure.”
Out in the clearing Hugo divided the men into two units. Hector leading his, would go out first. Hugo would keep well behind until Hector and his men were over the wall and inside the valley. “We’ll be camping out here,” said Hugo. “Try and get a good night’s sleep, for a hard day awaits us tomorrow.”
At the crack of dawn, the wood flies were lined up and, after a brief body exercising, they took a short flight over Penny Clearing, practised their formation manoeuvres, then camouflaged themselves in the undergrowth, their eyes pinned to the sky, waiting for the Blossom Valley birds to fly over the clearing and on to the fields.
“This is it, men,” cried Hugo. “The sky is now empty of birds which means, the valley is left unprotected and free for the taking. Let’s do it. Hector! Assemble your men. You are going out first as planned.”
“Come on, men!” Hector ordered. “It’s time we took flight. Keep your humming low or try not to hum at all. Sound travels fast in the wind.”
Swift raced to Blossom Valley with a brief message. “Hector is about to set out. Hugo will follow.”
***
Plato and George took their posts on the top branch of the big fir tree. The two birds sat side by side, silently watching and waiting. George broke the silence. “Aren’t you at all anxious, Plato?” he asked in a quavering whisper.
Plato remained deaf to George’s question. His eyes still and watchful, stared ahead without blinking. A second passed and George poked Plato with the tip of his left wing. “I can see a grey cloud in the horizon racing towards us. Can you see it?”
“Not clearly,” answered Plato, “but I’m certain it isn’t a storm cloud.”
Seconds lingered before George poked him again. “Can’t you see they’re almost upon us, Plato?”
Unperturbed, Plato turned his eyes to George. “Have some faith in me, Crow. I know what I’m doing.” At once, he brought both his wings over his beak and blew through the feathers.
As the signal went out, the blackbirds flew above the trees, flapping and soaring until the sky was painted black. They dived and rose, tipped and turned, gradually falling one by one into a stacking formation. A line of blackbirds hovered in mid-air, then another above them, and lastly a third line. It seemed they were attempting to create a barrier of some sort.
“Hector!” one wood fly screamed, “I can see birds! What’s happening?”
“We’ve been set up, fellas!” Hector bellowed. “Keep your spirits up! Fight! In the name of the wood fly world, let’s show them what we’re made of.”
Spurred on by Hector’s cries, his unit, humming with fury charged forward.
The blackbirds stretched their wings out and the wood flies smashed onto a rigid impenetrable black wall. Huge numbers of shrieking wood flies dropped dead on the ground.
“Volume and belly!” blasted Hector, and at once his men reassembled into a solid mass of wood fly bodies and charged like bats out of hell crashing onto the blackbirds’ bellies. The impact was tremendous. The black wall dissolved and the blackbirds, squawking with agonizing pain, fell on the ground. Some were injured, other died and the rest retreated to the nearest trees.
The wood flies raced for the ivy wall. Plato let out the crows’ signal. The crows rushed out of the ivy, stretched the
ir wings, and with sharp swatting blows, knocked the wood flies down by the dozen. Those rare few that escaped the crows’ blows were bombarded with volleys of acorns and fir cones by the squirrels until every last one had fallen.
Meanwhile on the ground, trained teams of squirrels and rabbits with Red Cross bands on heads and arms and carrying stretchers, were picking up the injured birds and those wood flies that stirred. They rushed them to the Red Cross tent where Tawny Owl and her team could see to them.
Twenty One
Hugo knew they’d been set up, for he’d heard his brother’s voice in the wind. His blood boiled with rage and his eyes blazed with a thirst for revenge.
“My men!” he rumbled, “in the name of our people, I urge you to show courage, wit and no mercy. We must get inside Blossom Valley, whatever it takes. Keep your spirit burning and let us gather speed for Blossom Valley.”
“Plato!” George cried. “Are you blind? Hugo’s unit is but a stone’s throw away. Can’t you hear the roaring?”
“You’re shaking, George. Are you cold?” Plato turned and looked at him with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.
“Are all owls as unruffled, as you, Plato? My heart is about to pop out of my chest and you find time to joke?”
“Then compose yourself,” he answered calmly. “I’ve got it under complete control.” He cleared his throat and let out the sparrows’ signal.
With a deafening rustle, the sparrows emerged from the trees, slowly falling into a V pattern. They zoomed high in the air and hovered until the wood flies were right underneath them. The sparrow leader gave the order. The V nosed down and crashed on Hugo’s unit with such force, it sent masses of wood flies flying in the air then dropping on the ground like pellets in a hail storm.
Suddenly a young quavering voice filled with pain and terror cried. “Stop it! What are we fighting for? Our leaders lied to us. They have led us into death and distraction. I don’t want to die. No one wants to die.”
The sparrow leader told his birds to dissolve the pattern and retreat to the trees. He flew close to the stricken young wood fly. “You are right, young fellow,” he said. “But in a conflict, there will always be losses. It is inevitable. Some of my birds lay dead on the ground. Your losses are greater. I’m sorry but it wasn’t our choice. We had to defend our home. Retreat fellows. Go back to your families.”
“Where is Hector? Where is Hugo to lead us out of here?” shouted the young voice.
“Hector is dead,” an old wood fly’s voice replied, “and Hugo has just fallen. Good riddance to him! I hope he breathes his last breath on this land. I shall lead you home. Follow me!”
Then it all stopped. The sky emptied and stillness fell.
***
Lying on the stretcher, Hugo tossed and turned, then kept still. One of his men raised his head and stared at him. “Are you dead?” he whispered.
“No, I’m not,” Hugo replied. “Lie down and pretend you’re dead. Pass on the word to those that stir. No questions. It’s an order.”
Two rabbits carrying the stretcher rushed to the tent and left it on the ground. “What do you want us to do with them, Tawny Owl?” they asked. “Some of them seemed alive when we picked them up but haven’t moved a limb since. Shall we empty them into the basket with the dead?”
“No,” she replied, “not before I make certain I can do nothing to save them. Leave them there and run off to pick up the rest.”
No one would be watching a heap of dead wood flies on a stretcher, Hugo thought. So he and those few left alive crept out and, edging along the ivy wall, squeezed themselves into the valley.
“We need to find where the butterflies are kept,” he said.
“Are you after the butterflies? Why? Do you fancy them, then?”
“You’re being stupid now. Butterflies may be beautiful but they are vain and brainless. We have some very pretty females in our community. I can have any of them. Besides, it is best to keep to our own kind. I want to get my hands on the spider and she’s sure to be somewhere close to the butterflies. The spider must be caught and taken alive to our people. I’ll think what to do with the butterflies afterwards. I may have to kill them.”
Hugo and his men crawled and wriggled across different parts of the valley for a long time, searching and listening for any sounds, when at last one of his men said in a hushed voice, “there, there. Look! I can see a spider pacing up and down. Is it her?”
“It must be her,” whispered Hugo. “There’s only one spider in Blossom Valley.”
Taking great care and looking behind their backs, they crept through the thick grass until they were very close.
“Now,” Hugo whispered and his men pounced on her from behind.
Thelma was stunned but her voice came out firm and commanding. “What do you think you’re doing? Get off my back at once or...”
“Cut out that attitude of authority and importance, spider. It won’t wash with me. I am Hugo, the wood fly leader. We will take you to Penny Clearing, where in front of my people you’ll be punished for your selfishness and your cruel remarks against us. I will see, as leader of my population, that you’re hanged from our old oak tree until your last breath leaves you and your body shrivels.”
“I have done nothing wrong to be punished for,” Thelma retorted. “I did not refuse to allow your people to move in with us, and never said a cruel word against the wood fly world. It was all the grasshopper’s deceitful lies. And you, a mindless young leader who let a renowned cunning, scheming creature lead you on, it is you who should be held responsible. It is you who caused the loss of half your population, and in the end it might be you who will hang from your old oak tree.”
Hugo was taken aback, shaken by Thelma’s harsh, offensive speech, and it hurt worse, for deep down he knew there was truth in it.
“Shut up! Shut up!” he ordered, his eyes flashing with anger. He gestured to his men and they knocked her down. Some fell on top of her.
“Where are the butterflies, spider?” Hugo demanded.
“They’ve been taken away to safety,” she answered. She wriggled and turned and kicked to free herself, but couldn’t shake off the weight of so many wood flies on her back. In the struggle to keep her down the wood flies broke some of her legs and damaged some of her eyes.
“Where are the butterflies?” insisted Hugo.
Thelma gave an almighty push and managed to rid herself of the weight, and with great effort she stood on her remaining legs.
“The butterflies, like all of us in Blossom Valley, have done no wrong,” she said, “and if you try as much as lay a finger on them, our birds will fall upon your people like a ton of bricks. The entire population down to the last wood fly will be wiped out and there will be no place for you to hide, for you’ll be hunted down and hanged from your old oak tree.” Her legs wouldn’t support her any longer and she collapsed.
Deep inside the pen, Princess Estella kept trying to come out but Gloria and her girls blocked her way. In the end, determined to see what was happening out there, she pushed and barged and forced her way to the front of the pen. When she saw the wood flies carrying Thelma away, she let out a horrified scream. “No!”
Conti the frog who was at the hospital helping Tawny Owl’s team, heard. At once he hopped outside and at the top of his voice croaked once, twice, and a third time.
Plato and George were still up on the fir tree, silent, staring at the empty horizon.
The sound sent a jolt through George. He nudged Plato. “Did you hear? The frog hasn’t croaked like this before. Something is happening.” He shot off his perch and Plato followed him to the butterflies’ pen.
Princess Estella was crying her eyes out and couldn’t utter a word. Gloria, though shaken, spoke to Plato. “We knew something was going on out there but we never imagined it could be wood fl
ies so close to the pen. We couldn’t risk going out. But Princess Estella managed to push her way to the entrance of the pen. She saw the wood flies taking Thelma away and she yelled. Then we heard the frog’s alarming croak.”
“It’s going to be alright, Gloria,” said Plato. “We are going to find Thelma and bring her back. Go and tell the butterflies.”
George stayed outside the tent while Plato went in to speak to Tawny Owl. “You must be exhausted, Tawny Owl.”
“I’m not complaining,” she said. “My team and I did all that was possible. We attended to the wounded and the dying. Sadly, we suffered quite a few losses ourselves. Some few have recovered. The seriously wounded are in hospital where my team know what to do. I’ll be going there shortly myself. The dead wood flies, a large number of them, we kept in the brown basket. The treated injured, are in the green. What are you planning to do with them?”
“The hares will take them in the ambulance cart to Penny Clearing. George and I will be flying there as well. The wood flies have taken Thelma. We’re going to bring her home.”
Twenty Two
The hares had unloaded the baskets when Plato and George got to Penny Clearing. Plato gestured to them and in the next instant the ambulance cart zoomed out of sight leaving clouds of dust behind.
Plato took a few steps forward and looked around. Something was wrong. Huge numbers of wood flies were walking away from Penny Clearing. Plato stopped a mother who was carrying two little children on her back, and asked her. “What’s happened? Where are you going?”
“Penny Clearing isn’t ours any longer,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “When our men were fighting in Blossom Valley, a swarm of ferocious horse flies marched in. We were mostly females, children and the elderly. We couldn’t defend ourselves. They terrorised us, stinging us, sucking our blood, chewing our wings. Most of us can only walk now. We lived through some horrific hours. We were forced to empty all our hollows.”
