by Michael Tod
Soon it would be time for Rowan the Bold, Marguerite’s brother from the previous year, to be home from his climbabout. She was looking forward to hearing about his exploits. Sharing the active experiences of the youngsters seemed a fair repayment for the time she had spent in passing on the lessons her years had taught her.
Some of them, knowing that she was watching, showed off, leaping from branch to branch and demonstrating their developing prowess in any way they thought would impress.
Earning a good tag
Is each squirrel’s ambition
Then to retain it.
She envied them their youthful energy and remembered with a sigh just how it felt to test oneself by leaping greater and greater distances and the excitement and relief of landing safely in the branches beyond. Now, even a small jump across a modest gap tired her and she often found it easier to go down one tree trunk and up another. She felt she was too old to risk a fall.
Burdock cocked her head, listening. Across the pool came the sound of the metal gates at Humanside being unlocked, the signal for the squirrels to retreat into the upper branches and lie out on the resinous bark, enjoying the sunshine and any light breezes filtering through the treetops. They were safe there from foxes and the dogs of human Visitors, and no hawks big enough to be dangerous had been seen for many years. The one dreaded pine marten was now only an ancestral memory and a bogey to frighten unruly youngsters with marten-dread. Burdock recalled the old kernel:
Pine marten’s sharp teeth
Bite off the ears and the tails
Of naughty dreylings.
She moved to the highest branch of the tallest tree on Steepbank above where the sand-cliff dropped almost sheer to the water’s edge. Not only was there the best chance of catching any breezes, but from there she had the finest view, and it was her job to watch and report on any unusual happenings. She looked across towards Humanside and the Man-dreys. The Red-Haired Girl was there. No danger from her – never has been – almost one of us, she thought.
Nothing was moving at Deepend to her right paw side: the guardians there would already be resting and no Visitors had arrived so far. She looked at Beachend to her left, all quiet there too, the sandy beach gleaming in the sun, curving round beyond the blue of the water. Sun, how she loved this place! Burdock stretched out and closed her eyes, reflecting on the part she had taken in building this happy community.
There was now a clear recognition of the place the Sun played in all their lives. She had gradually got rid of that old concept of worship. Respect was a much better term. The Sun could surely not want worshipping, it was far too all-wise for that.
The selection of Leaders and the establishment of the Council for the Demesne had largely been her idea. After a disastrous run of First-borns taking automatic control, regardless of their abilities, she had at last been able to get the demoralised squirrels to give her ideas a try. The worst that any squirrel could complain of now was boredom.
Old Burdock drifted off to sleep as the first pair of humans strolled along the path round the deep end of the pool, the male fanning his face with his summer straw hat.
At two o’clock, the Red-Haired Girl who was the waitress at the Tea Rooms was clearing the tables, the lunchtime rush over.
That pair of squirrels was hanging around again waiting for any scraps to be thrown to them. She had noticed that one seemed particularly fond of salted peanuts and she idly wondered what it thought of the unusual taste, and was about to fetch a packet from the display of snacks when a visitor called to her, asking for another cup of coffee.
The squirrels were forgotten.
CHAPTER THREE
Precisely at five o’clock, Tom, the caretaker, swung the big metal gates shut, collected his litter-bag and walked away to pick up the cigarette packets and ice-cream wrappers that somehow had not found their way into the waste-bins.
Burdock stretched one leg after another and looked down on to the network of paths. The Visitors had all gone, the Human Who Picked Things Up, now down at Beachend, was a part of the landscape and quite harmless, so it was safe to come down and forage for pine cones and early fungi. Halfway down the tree she stopped and stared.
Two creatures were coming along the path. They moved like squirrels but were much bigger than any squirrel she had ever seen – and grey!
Burdock watched from the tree trunk as the unfamiliar animals advanced. They progressed in a series of short dashes, pausing between each to look round. The leading one saw Burdock, stopped and sat up.
‘What place is this?’
‘You are in the Guardianship of Oak the Cautious, in the Blue Pool Demesne. I am Burdock the Tagger.’
‘Greetings, Burdock,’ said they Grey. ‘I am called Marble. This is my companion, Gabbro. We bring salutations from the Great Lord Silver, to whom we all owe allegiance.’ He held his right paw diagonally across his chest.
‘Are you squirrels? Asked Burdock.
‘We are. Squirrels of the Silver Kind. Our ancestors came from the Great Lands far away over the water beyond the sunset, but we are now bringing enlightenment to this land.’ He raised his tail proudly.
Burdock considered his action unmannerly. It was not proper to raise your tail until you had been greeted by the local guardian.
Stranger, show respect
You are the alien here.
Teach us to trust you.
‘What is your business?’ asked Burdock, her voice sharp.
‘Are you the Senior Squirrel in this precinct?’ asked Marble coldly.
The word was new to Burdock but she understood its meaning. ‘No, I’m the Tagger, Oak the Cautious is the Council Leader.’
‘Take us to his drey,’ commanded Marble.
‘As you wish,’ said Burdock and, holding her tail as high as possible, she set off in the direction of Oak’s drey in the Council Tree.
Other squirrels had watched the confrontation and followed Burdock, Gabbro and Marble along the path. Burdock suddenly climbed a tree to see if the strangers could climb. They could. She forced herself to race along a branch as fast as she could and then leap to another tree. The Greys followed effortlessly. They were squirrels!
By the time they reached Oak’s drey there were half a dozen more squirrels following them. Oak heard the movements in the branches before he could see the cause and moved higher for a better view. He was surprised as Old Burdock had been to see the grey creatures which now approached, their tails low. ‘Greetings, strangers,’ said Oak, looking at Burdock for an explanation.
‘Greetings, Oak the Cautious, said Burdock. ‘These strangers of the Silver Kind have come with ‘salutations’ from their Leader.’ She paused uncomfortably, still resenting the ill manners of the Greys and the high-handed way Marble had spoken to her. Taggers were second only to Council Leaders and should be treated with respect.
Oak looked with interest at the two Greys. They were larger than any of the Reds, more heavily built, and their ears were round without any trace of tufts on them. Their eyes were different too, seeming not to look straight at him. He did not feel he could trust them.
‘So, you can speak our tongue,’ said Oak.
‘After a fashion, Cautious Oak, said Marble. ‘We bring salutations from the Great Lord Silver and, as you are the local chief, seek your permission to teach the power of numbers to your subjects.’
‘I have no subjects, Marble the Stranger, these are all Respecters of the Sun, Guardians of the Land. I am just their chosen Leader. What are these numbers of which you speak?’
‘In due course, in due course,’ replied Marble dismissively, looking round to see if the other squirrels were listening. They were. ‘First I wish to learn of your local customs and then to rest from my journey.’ He held his tail low in a gesture of deference, during which display no reasonable request can be refused.
A submissive stance
And a request, presumes help –
Give it if you can
; ‘What do you wish to know, Marble the Stranger?’ asked Oak.
‘I suppose you consider the Sun to be the provider of everything, like the other natives who once inhabited the Middle Lands?’ said Marble.
Oak nodded assent. Could there be any doubt about that? This he had been taught by his Tagger when he was a dreyling and the evidence was to be seen everywhere. Plants started to grow when warmed by the Sun. The squirrel dreylings were born after the warmth of the spring Sun had aroused their parents to courtship. It was obviously the Sun that ripened the nuts and pine cones in the autumn to provide their winter food stocks.
The life-giving Sun
Provides all we need. Father
Of all the squirrels
‘Yes, said Oak positively, ‘that is our belief.’
His mate, Fern the Fussy, was only half listening. An obstinate blob of resin was sticking to the hairs of her tail. She combed it with her claws, then tried to lick off the residue. In the end she had to bite away a few hairs. She combed again over the gap. After all she was the Council Leader’s life-mate and would be expected to look her best, especially when there were important visitors. She nipped off a twig which was sticking out of a branch at an untidy angle.
‘What number comes after eight?’ asked Marble.
‘There is no number after eight,’ replied Oak. ‘We only have eight front claws to count on. After that there are lots.’
‘Great Lord Silver,’ Marble said quietly, glancing at the silent Gabbro and fighting to keep his tail from rising with superiority. ‘It seems you still practise guardianship instead of possession?’
‘The word – possession – is unknown to me,’ said Oak.
‘Possession, ownership, what’s mine is mine, what’s yours is yours, for as long as you can keep it. The only civilised way to behave; everybody knows where they are. Surely you can understand that?’
Oak tried, but the concept was beyond him. It was like trying to think about how far the land stretched away from the Blue Pool. Beyond it was the heath, or fields or woods, and beyond them, more. What was beyond those? They must stop somewhere, but where? He had heard about the Sea but had never seen it. What was beyond the Sea? He had often puzzled over this enigma but had had to give up, unsatisfied, and other duties had prevented him ever having gone climbabout as some of the more adventurous squirrels did when they were young.
This concept of ownership was the same. A squirrel couldn’t ‘own’ a tree or a path or a glade! The idea didn’t make sense. Guardianship was clear. From the treetops, squirrels could watch out for anything that might be harmful or unnatural. Not that they could always do anything about it, he thought ruefully. At least some of the humans must feel the same. One of then, the Human Who Picked Things Up, did keep the whole of the demesne free of other humans’ litter.
‘Any special customs or rituals?’ asked Marble.
By now virtually all the squirrels of the community were listening. News of the strangers’ arrival had quickly spread through the demesne.
‘Nothing that comes to mind’ said Oak after a pause, ‘unless you mean the Sun-tithe, where we dig up and eat only seven out of every eight nuts we hide. We’ve always done that.’
One out of eight nuts
Must be left to germinate.
Here grows our future.
Marble was disappointed; he had learned about native behaviour from his mentor the previous year, and there appeared to be nothing dramatically different here. No natives ever understood the importance of ownership. ‘Just another lot of thick Reds,’ he would have to report to Woburn. It was all so boring. They all seemed obsessed by the Sun idea, as if the sun would care about any of them! Take and hold was the only way. The sun’s there, always has been, always will be, and that’s that, he thought superciliously. But the area is good, plenty of food and the surroundings are attractive.
If the Great Lord Silver was pleased with him he might put in a claim for this precinct for himself when he reported back.
‘We will rest now,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow I’ll teach you something about the power of numbers, and indeed Stone force. With your permission,’ he added, looking at Oak and keeping his tail lowered with difficulty. These natives were so naïve!
Oak looked round, saw his daughter, Marguerite, and said ‘Please escort our guests to the Strangers’ Drey, Daughter, and see that they have food.’
The dreyling skipped about. ‘I am Marguerite the Bright One. Please follow me, Marble the Stranger, Gabbro the Companion.’
She led them to the drey kept for squirrels passing through and checked that the supply of nuts and other delicacies was adequate.
‘Is there anything else you would like? she asked innocently.
‘Marble looked her over. Only a first-year chit. Anyway he was tired and didn’t really approve of the way some of his kind used the red females. ‘No,’ he said, and went into the drey, followed by a disappointed Gabbro. In fact, he was not happy about the way most of the younger squirrels of his kind behaved nowadays. Since the change of leadership back at Woburn, all the old moral standards seemed to have been thrown out of the trees. Okay he’d been a bit of a lad in his time, maybe even sired a litter or two, but now – now anyone mated with anyone, at any time and in any place! He shuddered.
He shelled and ate a nut and thought of the natives they had just met. He knew what would happen now. They would hold a Council Meeting. First there would be a discussion on who these strangers were and where they came from, then demands from some that they be sent on their way.
Others, however, would want to hear what he had to say and finally there would be a decision to hear him out and, if they didn’t like what he said, they would ask the two of them to leave the area. But by then he would have sown the demoralising seeds, and when the Silver Tide reached Purbeck the Reds would be swept away easily.
And so it was. Old Burdock the Tagger, still upset at what she considered to have been shabby treatment, was all for sending them on at once. But the phrase that Marble had used, ‘the other natives who once inhabited the Middle Lands,’ had stuck in her mind and she felt she needed to know more. Also she had to agree that, as hospitality had been offered, it could not now be withdrawn.
All passing strangers
Must be accommodated
At whatever cost
Most of the demesne, especially the younger ones, were intrigued by the talk of ‘numbers’ and ‘Stone force’ and wanted to hear more. The decision reached was exactly as Marble had predicted. He was already asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
A fox wandered under the pine trees of Steepbank as the sun peered over the distant horizon. Fingers of pale light had touched Poole Harbour away to the east, making the colours of the anchored boats glow and reflect in the water. Then these same rays, reaching westwards, lit up Brownsea and Furzey Islands, the Goathorn Peninsula, Middlebere and the Great Heath.
At the Blue Pool the light touched the tops of the tallest pines and the squirrels stirred in their warm dreys, most anticipating an exciting day learning the power of numbers that the stranger had promised to tell them. What could that be?
Below, the pool was still in darkness, the fox could smell squirrels all about but knew that they were out of his reach. He scent-marked an anthill and moved away towards Humanside. Sometimes there were scraps of Man-food to be found near the Man-earths. If not, he would trot along the deserted road to see if any rabbits had been killed there in the night. Anything for an easy life.
A pair of jays screeched with the sound of tearing linen to express their displeasure as he passed through what they considered to be their territory.
As the light grew stronger and the sun cleared the pine trees of Deepend, the pool began to change colour from a soft green to a deep blue, mirroring the sky. Wraiths of mist twisted over the surface and vanished. A moorhen called to her young and paddled out from under an overhanging bush, followed by five tiny chicks pecking at insects on the surface,
ripples from their frantic activity disturbing the still water. The fox looked down from the bank, sniffed the air disdainfully, having found nothing near the wastebins; thought to himself that, if there had been, it probably wouldn’t have been worth eating anyway, and slipped away towards the road.
Oak poked his head out of the drey, which was built from a mass of carefully intertwined twigs, honeysuckle bines and leaves in a fork of the Council Tree. He sniffed the air, smelt fox, the scent too faint now to inspire the paralysing fox-dread, looked carefully down, whiskers twitching to sense air movement, sniffed again to judge exactly how long it had been since the fox had left. They pulled his head back into the drey. Fern was curled up in the warm lining of moss, feathers and rabbit fur, still half asleep.
‘Been a dog-fox through but he’s gone now. It’s going to be another hot day. We’ve got to listen to that grey fellow soon so you’d better stir yourself, Fern-Mate. I’m going down for a bite”.
He went head-first down the scaly tree trunk, pausing now and then to look around for anything unusual, any pattern that was unfamiliar, any shape that was different from the night before, anything which could spell danger to him and his community.
‘Sun, that fox stinks!’
Moving away from the urine-sprinkled anthill, he searched for early fungi and was soon joined by others from Beachend and Deepend. Even Juniper and Bluebell, the Scavengers, had arrived from Humanside to hear the words of the grey strangers.
