by Colin Dann
‘All right, Fox. I suppose he’ll recognize my cry,’ Tawny Owl said, and he launched himself from the wall.
‘I wish you’d told him to keep a lookout for Plucky,’ Dash said regretfully.
‘Weasel’s sure to know if Plucky is around,’ Vixen said, trying to comfort her. ‘All will be well.’
Tawny Owl swooped over the unfamiliar parkland, calling intermittently. He soon discovered this enclosure was far smaller than White Deer Park, although its terrain was broadly similar. Indeed the comparison with the Nature Reserve was sufficiently striking for Owl to begin to wonder if he wasn’t flying over its companion park.
‘It makes sense,’ he told himself, ‘if our Reserve is overcrowded to move some of the overflow, as it were, to another place where life can be lived just the same.’ He was very pleased with his deduction and thought how much cleverer he was than Fox or anyone else to have arrived at this conclusion. ‘Of course,’ he mused, ‘the trouble is, whereas the animals have been moved, their nests haven’t. Which means they have to start all over again.’
After flying over much of the enclosure, quartering the area as thoroughly as he could, Owl became a little impatient. He started to call more regularly and more loudly. ‘Weasel! Weasel! Can you hear me? It’s Owl!’ Then he broke off to complain to himself. (‘He knows I’m here, how can he not answer? He’s avoiding me; it’s a deliberate ploy. Oh, what sort of a creature is he? This is no game.) Weasel! Weasel! (Calls himself a friend! A fine friend, putting me to all this trouble and effort.) WEASEL!!’
The owl perched in a pine tree to rest for a while. Below him was the widest spread of woodland he had found in the enclosure. ‘If he’s not hiding himself somewhere in there, then I’m a kingfisher,’ he declared. ‘Ideal spot, just like Farthing Wood used to be. I’ll wait around and he can come to me, if he deigns to make contact. I’ve done all I can to find him.’
His occasional irritable cries: ‘Ke-wick! Ke-wick!’ instantly recognizable by all his old companions as the owl’s personal hallmark brought not Weasel but Plucky running towards the sound.
‘Owl? Is it you?’ the young fox barked excitedly. ‘Ah – I see you. How you’ve been calling!’
‘Oh, Plucky.’ Owl acknowledged the young fox with some relief and not without pleasure. ‘I’ve flown up and down this place in all directions. I thought I’d never rouse anybody. It’s good to know you’re not deaf!’
‘Far from it. What are you doing here?’
‘Well – looking for you, obviously,’ Tawny Owl replied testily. ‘And, as you have no doubt gathered, Weasel too.’
‘I’m not surprised you haven’t found Weasel,’ Plucky said. ‘He’s part of the tunnelling party. He’s probably underground even now and so he couldn’t have picked up your call.’
‘Underground? Typical!’ Tawny Owl rasped. ‘What’s the good of being underground when I’ve been wearing my wings out in search of him?’
‘Excuse my saying so,’ said Plucky politely, ‘but how was Weasel to know you’d come looking for him?’
‘Well, well, never mind that now,’ Tawny Owl responded. ‘I’m glad to see you anyway, young fellow. Fox, Vixen and Friendly have come on a mission of rescue. And,’ he added slyly, ‘there’s another interested party alongside them who can’t wait to know if you’re safe.’
Plucky guessed at once who he meant. ‘Dash?’ he cried. ‘She’s not lost then?’
‘Of course she’s not lost. She discovered this place, actually. And Plucky, tell me, what is it? Is it a park? What do you do here?’
‘Do here? Well, try to think of ways of getting out, principally. And that’s what Weasel’s engaged in with the others. But – yes, I suppose it is a sort of park. Everything goes on just like in White Deer Park. Once we were released by the men, we were left alone to live as we did before. I think some of the animals have quite settled down. They have all they want. Others, though, want to get back to their real homes. Some of them have been parted from their families. It’s all so strange – I don’t know why we were suddenly uprooted in this way.’
‘I have a theory about that,’ Tawny Owl told him. ‘But we’ll leave that for later. Have you reconnoitred the whole area? Because the important thing is whether there is a way out: a gap in the wall or – or – anything like that.’
‘Nothing,’ Plucky answered definitively. ‘Not the tiniest crack. This place cannot be breached, not even by the smallest mouse, unless he or she’s a champion climber. I don’t think anything except a bird like yourself can get in or out without human sanction.’
‘What about this tunnelling business you said Weasel’s involved in? Have there been any successes?’
‘None that I know of. A number of animals like Weasel – stoats, hedgehogs and a young badger – have been trying to dig down below the wall at different points. But it seems the construction goes down so deep they haven’t managed so far to get underneath it. There are no moles around – of course the humans couldn’t round any of them up. And I believe only a posse of moles could dig the sort of tunnel that’s needed here.’
‘Do you know where Weasel is? Can you find him?’ Owl requested. ‘He may have some new information.’
‘I doubt that,’ Plucky said. ‘But yes, I’ll fetch him at once. I know what stretch of the wall they’re digging by. Will you wait here?’
‘Yes, I’ve tired myself out for the present. Will you be quick?’
‘As quick as a fox can run.’
As Plucky vanished, Tawny Owl derived some satisfaction from the knowledge that Weasel was obliged to come all the way from the enclosure wall to where he was now perching comfortably on a branch of the Scots pine. It was as though the beast had to do the bird’s bidding and, if Owl had been capable of it, he would have hugged himself.
Weasel came willingly enough. He couldn’t quite reconcile himself to the idea of Tawny Owl posing as his saviour, but he was keen to find out the truth. Owl stretched his wings and adopted a majestic stance as he saw Weasel and Plucky approaching. But Weasel soon took the wind out of his sails.
‘Well, I am honoured,’ he quipped, ‘that you should fly all this way for my benefit!’
‘I didn’t,’ Tawny Owl corrected him irritably. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Weasel. Fox put me in the position of being unable to refuse.’
‘Refuse what?’
‘To join the rescue party, of course.’
‘What rescue party? Where are the others?’ Weasel asked.
‘They’re waiting for me, outside this – this – park or whatever it is. I was sent in to discover a – um – loophole. I’m told by Plucky there isn’t one, unless you’ve discovered something?’
‘I’ll tell you what I’ve discovered,’ Weasel offered. ‘And that is, that there’s no way out of here for a creature on four legs. We’ve dug and dug, the other digging animals and I, and the wall goes down and down and at the bottom there’s something so thick and incomparably hard that it might as well be solid rock. So, like it or not, we’re here to stay. As far as a rescue party goes, the only way for them to get inside here is to get themselves captured like I did!’
‘Just how would that help?’ Owl returned scathingly.
‘It wouldn’t. I’m not suggesting anyone adopts the idea, you foolish feathered – ’
‘Don’t you take out your frustrations on me,’ Owl interrupted angrily. ‘You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to get into human hands in the first place!’
‘Oh, let me cut through all this,’ Plucky pleaded. ‘We’re supposed to be helping each other, aren’t we? Owl, can’t you at least go and tell Fox and – um – the others, you know – that you’ve found us and we’re quite safe?’
‘Of course I can, and I’ll do so at once,’ the bird agreed. He looked down at Weasel with just a hint of sympathy. ‘It doesn’t do any good to fall out,’ he remarked. ‘I – er – I’m sorry, Weasel, for your predicament. I’m sure you never asked to be brought here.’
/> Weasel was mollified. ‘No, indeed I didn’t. And I thank you for expressing yourself in that way. We haven’t always got on, I know, but you’re not really a bad old bird.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ Owl found himself saying. ‘I’ll delay no longer then. We’ll try to think of another plan and, in the meantime, you must take care of yourselves, both of you.’
‘Holly must have softened him,’ Weasel observed as he watched Tawny Owl glide away. ‘He never used to talk in those tones.’
Dash and the foxes were in a fever of impatience. Tawny Owl seemed to them to have been gone for ages. At last they saw his silent shadowy form swoop over the wall. The bird landed at their feet.
‘It’s no use,’ he announced, and hastily explained why. He described the terrain of the enclosure and finished by saying, ‘Along with the other animals here, Weasel and Plucky are safe, and they’re also just about as secure as human ingenuity can devise.’
8
Airlift
There was no choice for the frustrated rescue party but to return to White Deer Park. They reached Dash’s scrape without mishap, but each of them was disappointed with the night’s outcome. Dash felt immensely relieved now that she knew for certain where Plucky was. She wondered if she and the young fox would ever be able to run and play together again, and spoke her doubts out loud. Fox looked determined. ‘I confess I’m temporarily beaten,’ he said, ‘but this isn’t the end of the matter. I’m going to get Weasel and Plucky out of there one way or another. The others will have to take their chances – I can’t be responsible for everyone. But the Farthing Wood community is incomplete and I do have a duty to put that right.’
‘Not you alone,’ Vixen reminded him. ‘We all have a part to play, don’t we Owl?’
‘Yes, of course, Vixen,’ the bird hooted agreeably, although he was actually of the opinion that he had done all he could and hoped not to be troubled again. Holly was brooding her eggs and he was aware that feeding their nestlings would be a full-time occupation, so he tried to cover himself against any future activities. ‘You know, that enclosure is not so very awful. Plucky admitted to me that the animals in it can live just as they do here. I’ve come to believe the humans had their best interests in mind when they moved them there.’
‘So you think it’s another nature reserve too?’ Fox asked. ‘Badger thinks as much and it is the most plausible explanation.’
‘As a matter of fact,’ Tawny Owl ventured to say, ‘there are benefits for all of us in this development. We all have more space.’
‘You’ve forgotten something,’ Friendly said. ‘More space for us means more scope for the rats to fill the gaps.’
The rat problem wouldn’t go away. Although their numbers appeared to have stabilized the residents of White Deer Park couldn’t feel comfortable in their own home. Each of them regarded the rats as aliens. The rats were known to be prolific breeders and the other animals feared a population explosion. Try as they did, the hunters of the Park couldn’t seem to make any real inroads into the rat colonies. As fast as they caught them, others took their place. ‘There are too many of them and not enough of us,’ was Badger’s comment. ‘We need Weasel badly, and as many of his kind as we can get.’
However, the rats couldn’t escape human notice for ever. In fact it was only because the Warden’s interest had been absorbed elsewhere that they had prospered at all. Naturally, in the long run, some of them were bound to fall foul of the beaters and the line of nets. These, flushed from their nests, scuttled into the obstacle and at once focused the attention of their captors. The animals at last had allies, and powerful ones too.
The rats needed all their cunning, and this was impressive indeed. They were long used to the schemes and tactics of humans and had their own ways of combatting them. Once some of their number had fallen victim to the nets, they knew the humans’ next move would be to seek out their nests and burrows and attempt to exterminate them. So word had passed from one colony to another to move beyond their reach. The older rats knew White Deer Park was a nature reserve. That was why they had led the migration there. Their chief concern in life was to evade their human foes, who harried them everywhere. Now it seemed clear that humans had pursued them even to this haven. They knew nothing about the men’s real purpose, nor anything of the existence of the other park. But they did know always that they had to keep one step ahead.
Under cover of night the bulk of the adult rats began to traverse the Park, moving from the runs and burrows of their new settlements and returning to the dank, warm and odorous channels and ditches of the local sewer system. They loved the safety of these tunnels in the winter months. They were able to keep snug and well fed. In the summer they preferred the countryside but, for the present, the countryside they had chosen was fraught with danger. When danger threatened them, the rats always responded. Only nursing females were left behind in the Nature Reserve, and then only from necessity. When the time was right and the Park was peaceful again, the sewer rats would rejoin them and breathe country air once more.
One of the biggest males, a rat called Bully, vowed revenge on the animals who had hunted them there and egged his companions on to do the same. ‘We can’t fight two enemies,’ he growled. ‘A retreat was essential – temporarily. ‘When the humans think they’ve driven us out they’ll relax their guard. They’ll have other plans to put into operation: they have so many buzzing in their great heads, don’t they? Then we rats will be overlooked and we can steal back, just a bunch of us at a time, and build up our colonies again. Eventually we’ll be more than a match for any beast or bird who wants to take us on. If you listen to me, all of you, and do as I say, we can take over the entire Reserve – yes, even from the deer. We’ll be so numerous we’ll – we’ll flood them into submission. Are you with old Bully or against him?’
The other rats chorused their support and approval just as he knew they would. He was a natural leader and they needed a strong voice to give them direction.
‘So be it,’ he grunted. ‘We’ll bide our time here in the old familiar network with its rich ripe scents. We don’t mind, do we? We like strong smells; the stronger the better. They make us feel at home. But we can also have a change when we feel like it, can’t we? And when we do, we’ll go, and next time nothing will stop us.’
The astonishing abruptness of the rats’ drop in numbers was very encouraging to the Farthing Wood animals. They attributed it to human action and they weren’t far wrong. Now they had more time to concentrate on devising a new plan to bring Weasel and Plucky back into the fold. Fox thought he might have the remedy for restoring Weasel to where he belonged, though Plucky would be more of a problem. He went to see how Whistler was faring.
The heron was easy to find. He stood on the stream’s bank in his habitually rigid and motionless stance. He stared down at the water as if lost in contemplation of whether there was edible life in it or not.
‘Glad to see you, Whistler,’ Fox greeted him warmly. ‘How’s the fishing?’
Whistler’s absorption was broken. He stepped back. ‘I’m glad to see you too,’ he said in his slow voice. ‘The fishing is – how shall I put it? – debatable.’
‘Do you catch anything these days?’
‘Rarely. I took a fish yesterday. I almost regretted it afterwards; it seemed a lonely thing, swimming around by itself. I don’t want to deplete the fish stock just as it’s been introduced to the stream again. I feel I should wait until they’ve multiplied somewhat but, then again, how can I? I have to eat.’
‘I can see you’ve lost weight,’ Fox remarked sympathetically. ‘Is there nowhere else you can fly to?’
‘There is, but flying’s painful just now. I’m up against it, Fox. Worms, slugs and snails form the basis of my diet. I sometimes wonder what’s happening to my insides.’
‘Are you able to fly short distances?’ Fox asked. ‘There’s going to be a glut of young frogs in the pond, by all accounts; too many for their
own good. Could you make use of that?’
‘I suppose I could. Of course they won’t be of any great size for a long while. Just morsels, you see, for me. I’m desperate to get a substantial meal into my bill. And then, I feel awkward about the Pond. I don’t like to think I’d be poaching Toad’s friends and relatives under his very nose.’
‘It wouldn’t concern him, I can assure you, Whistler. I tell you – there are too many of them. Toad said so himself. But, look, I must come to the point. I’m here to put a proposition to you.’
‘I see. Speak on, Fox.’
‘We know where Weasel is.’ Fox described how Tawny Owl had found him and how Weasel was trapped in the enclosure, along with Plucky and others. ‘Weasel’s a small creature,’ Fox went on carefully. ‘Do you remember, on our journey to White Deer Park, how we all crossed the motorway?’
‘Certainly I do,’ Whistler verified. ‘Vividly. I remember exactly how – oh, now I understand!’ he interrupted himself, with some amusement. ‘You’re thinking of how I carried Weasel across the road.’
‘Exactly. You carried him then. Could you do so again? Just over the Park wall and no further?’
‘Hm. I’m a bit creaky, to tell you the truth. I’d be more than willing to try, although I’d hate to drop him.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t do that. He’s awfully slight, isn’t he? Perhaps you could practise first with a stick or two?’
‘Indeed I will,’ said the heron. ‘But I need to build my strength up.’
‘All right,’ said Fox. ‘I’ll catch you some rats.’
Rat-catching had become a way of life in White Deer Park. Suddenly there were very few rats around. The animals hardly dared hope they had the invaders licked. Fox and Vixen pounced on the odd female rat out scavenging for her young and ferried their prey to Whistler, who dispatched it with great relish. ‘I’m most grateful,’ he told them. ‘If the rats would only show themselves in daylight, I could go hunting myself.’
