The Siege of White Deer Park

by Colin Dann

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Whistler. ‘But wait – this Beast could still get at them.’

  ‘I think we should give the humans credit for a little more sense,’ Fox said wryly. ‘They’re not likely to leave a herd of penned-up deer unguarded, are they? They’re to be protected from its ravages, not left at its mercy.’

  ‘Of course,’ said the heron. ‘How silly of me.’

  ‘And,’ Fox emphasized, ‘there’s another aspect. The deer might also act as bait to lead the Beast on. Then our clever Warden and his friends will pounce and – the threat is gone!’

  ‘Poor deer,’ murmured Vixen, ‘to be used in such a way. I hope the Beast will show its cleverness again by seeing sense and leaving this hunting ground.’

  As soon as Vixen had finished speaking she and all the others realized at once the implications of what she had said. They looked at one another with serious faces. The thought had occurred simultaneously to them. The Beast might decide not to leave, but simply to change its diet!

  Leveret knew that he was the most vulnerable of the group then present. ‘The likes of me and the rabbits will be its fare again,’ he said in a whisper, looking ahead with frightened eyes as if he could visualize this nightmare. ‘None of you are at such risk from it – nor have you ever been.’

  ‘We must try and look on the bright side,’ Fox told him earnestly. ‘If the Beast has developed a taste for deer, then it might not wish to forgo the treat. So, what happens? It is captured – or destroyed.’

  ‘I’m not convinced,’ Leveret replied. ‘Thank you for your encouragement, Fox. I know you mean well. But, you see, there’s something about this creature – a kind of – er – invincibility.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ Fox said grimly. ‘In the meantime, you and your family must lie low and not stray too far.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve been doing that all along,’ Leveret said. ‘But that’s no defence.’

  ‘Leveret’s right,’ said Tawny Owl. He turned to the hare. ‘I don’t know why you can’t take a lesson from your rabbit cousins and get yourself underground. You lie out in the open with no more than a depression in the ground to hide you.’ He never was the most tactful of beings and Weasel gave him a glare that told him just that.

  ‘We’re not diggers, Owl,’ Leveret explained simply. ‘We have to rely on our speed.’

  Tawny Owl stared back at Weasel, quite unrepentant. Then he went on in the same vein. He made a virtue of bluntness. ‘You’d need some speed, too,’ he commented, turning once more to the hare, ‘to get away from the creature I saw.’

  Weasel was exasperated. ‘What do you know about it?’ he demanded. ‘Was the Beast running when you saw it?’

  ‘Er – no, but I –’

  ‘Well, don’t talk such nonsense then,’ Weasel interrupted him. ‘Leveret’s a timid enough animal as it is.’

  Tawny Owl did seem to feel a twinge of regret. ‘I just think it’s better to know the facts,’ he excused himself. ‘I’m sure Leveret understands. I wasn’t trying to frighten him.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said the hare. ‘Don’t let’s argue – that won’t help. We’re all in this together, aren’t we?’

  ‘Of course we are,’ said Tawny Owl promptly. ‘If I can be of any assistance at all you know you can always count on me.’

  ‘Except for any diplomacy,’ Weasel muttered.

  ‘Tell me, Owl,’ Whistler said hastily, ‘are you still of the mind that there is more than one strange beast about?’

  Tawny Owl had forgotten his own theory on that matter. ‘Oh – er – well, I can’t be certain about it, Whistler. The facts are beginning to point, I suppose, to there being – er – perhaps just the one.’

  He had been caught off guard and felt a trifle awkward about it. He tried to retrieve the situation. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’ll keep an eye open tonight by this – um – deer pen and see if I can discover anything.’ The animals watched him fly away.

  ‘Well,’ said Fox. ‘The next few days should tell us if the Warden’s plan will work out or not. The craft of the Beast will really be put to the test.’

  Before dusk, Friendly was ready and waiting for the evening’s action. The three younger foxes – Pace, Rusty and Husky – arrived just as darkness began to steal across the Park. Ranger and Trip came last. No word was spoken. They all knew what they were going to do.

  Husky took the lead, with Pace and Rusty behind him. They made straight for the fawn’s remains they had found the night before. As they neared the place they slowed and went much more carefully. As usual, they paused periodically to listen. They reached the carcass. There were only bones and skin left. Friendly sniffed vigorously at the carcass and then at the ground all about. The others followed suit.

  ‘The smell of blood is very strong,’ Friendly said in a low voice. ‘And there’s something else – something recognizable.’ He was thoroughly absorbed. ‘Yes, it’s the same as before. It’s the creature’s scent all right. The question is – where does it lead?’ With his muzzle bent low, he moved about, this way and that, making patterns over the ground. Then he gave a bark of excitement. ‘Come on,’ he whispered. ‘This way!’

  He was following the strongest scent; the one made most recently. The other foxes followed him through the undergrowth. The youngsters’ hearts were beating wildly.

  ‘Keep your eyes and ears at full alert,’ Friendly turned to say. ‘Leave the tracking to me.’

  They went on slowly. The undergrowth gave way to open grassy ground. Much of it was still soft from the frequent spring showers of rain. Suddenly, Friendly stopped. He turned round. His eyes were glistening. ‘Look!’ he said triumphantly.

  Amongst the short grass there was a small patch of bare earth dotted with plantain. In the centre of it, almost as if left deliberately to assist them, was a huge pawprint.

  ‘We’re really on to something, this time,’ said Friendly. ‘Here’s an unmistakable clue.’

  They all stared at it. It seemed obvious that it had been made quite recently. Only Ranger seemed unhappy. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It could be a trap.’

  ‘A trap!’ cried the young foxes together.

  ‘What are you getting at, Ranger?’ Friendly asked him quietly.

  ‘Isn’t it too obvious a clue?’ he returned.

  ‘Nonsense!’ was Friendly’s immediate reaction. ‘Do you mean it’s trying to lure us –’ He broke off. He looked at Ranger and considered. ‘There may be something in that,’ he murmured. ‘How are we to tell?’ He was pensive for a while. Then he shook himself out of his reverie. ‘Anyway, if you’re correct,’ he said, ‘then so be it.’ Friendly looked determined. ‘Our friend will find he has more than he bargained for.’

  The foxes proceeded on the trail but with noticeably more caution. They crossed the open ground and now the scent led them under some trees. They found themselves in a small copse. It was not one they had been to before. Pace, Rusty and Husky were feeling the strain of having their eyes and ears as it were stretched to their limit. Ranger and Trip showed no sign of their feelings, but they all were expecting something to happen. Friendly came to a stop at the foot of a tree. He went round the tree, trying to trace where the scent led. Then he sat down, looking puzzled. The rest of the group regarded him, but could not find their voices. The skin on their backs began to crawl. Slowly they raised their heads.

  Friendly followed their eyes and, as he did so, a most unearthly snarl ripped through the stillness of the copse. In the next instant a huge creature leapt from the tree and landed directly beside Husky. With a vicious blow from a front paw it tumbled the fox over. The beast’s jaws fastened on the scruff of his neck and he was lifted helplessly, legs dangling, as with one bound the creature whirled around and vaulted back into the tree. Its claws raked the bark as it raced up the trunk to its vantage point in a broad lofty branch. The five foxes barked furiously from the ground. Their fur was raised, their lips curled back to reveal their fangs,
while their eyes gleamed with anger. But they were helpless. The beast retained its grip on the struggling Husky as securely as if he had been no more than a rabbit. There was a look of malevolence about the creature as it glared down at them which made their barks sputter into silence. The foxes were helpless and they knew it.

  ‘It was – a trap,’ Ranger muttered almost inaudibly. They stared up through the darkness, aware of their utter powerlessness in the face of this monster. All they could see was its shining eyes – eyes that seemed to mock their weakness. For some time they remained rooted to the spot. They were unable to think of any action they could take. They felt as if the Beast’s influence had frozen their limbs into immobility.

  At last Friendly said hoarsely, ‘We must get help.’ He had no idea what help they could look for, nor where they could look for it. It was a blind reaction from their situation put into words.

  ‘But we can’t leave . . .’ began Pace. His voice faltered and he lapsed into silence.

  None of the others spoke. They dared not look at each other. Then, with drooping head, Friendly began to move away. He knew that, even if they should stay there until dawn, they could achieve nothing. The others followed him forlornly. From his terrifying height Husky witnessed their departure with the keenest agony.

  As soon as the Beast was satisfied that the foxes had gone on their way, it released its grip. Husky fell like a stone to the ground.

  When they were some distance from the copse the foxes began to give vent to their feelings. The natural course was to look for a culprit to blame for what had happened. So it followed that Friendly became the target.

  ‘It was very foolhardy to come on this venture,’ said Trip. ‘It was your idea, Friendly. You might have known it could only end like this.’

  ‘I guessed it would be a mistake from the start,’ Ranger concurred. ‘Now see what you’ve led us into.’

  ‘How shall we tell Whisper?’ murmured Rusty.

  Only Pace, Friendly’s own son, forbore to comment. Yet his thoughts matched the others’.

  ‘Don’t you think I regret it now?’ Friendly said miserably. ‘But how could I have foreseen what has occurred? I did this from the best of motives. And – you didn’t have to accompany me; none of you.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Pace. ‘We must be fair. And it’s too late to regret our actions.’

  ‘We have to think of finding help,’ Friendly said. ‘I don’t know where to turn. Perhaps my father –’

  ‘Your father,’ Ranger cut in, ‘would have had more sense at the outset!’ (Now he recalled Adder’s words.)

  ‘You’re right,’ Friendly said unhappily. ‘He gave his advice, at the beginning. “Don’t meddle,” he said.’

  ‘Grandfather is very wise,’ said Pace. ‘He may think of something that can be done.’

  They carried on their way in silence. In their minds was the picture of Husky clenched in the fierce jaws of the Beast – the powerful beast they had tried to tamper with! For Friendly the image held the most horror, for he did feel responsible despite what he had said.

  Ranger and Trip left the group as they came near the earth of the Farthing Wood Fox. They were of a different parentage and had not the same allegiance.

  Fox and Vixen were absent. Friendly gave a yelp of frustration. Just when he needed them most! Of course, they were hunting. However his call of distress brought another animal’s answer. Friendly knew it was Badger’s cry. He dearly loved the old creature but – ironically – he was the one friend who was really too old and feeble now to be of any assistance.

  ‘What is it, Friendly?’ Badger asked after greeting him and the two youngsters.

  The fox explained with a woeful expression. Badger was aghast.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh my word!’ he muttered continually. He swung his striped head to and fro. ‘Oh, Friendly!’ he said. ‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ He was trying to think how he could help. ‘Poor Husky. Has he a mate?’

  ‘No,’ Rusty answered.

  ‘Well, that’s a blessing,’ Badger murmured. ‘But Whisper will be so upset! Vixens are all the same when their cubs are in danger.’ A though struck him. ‘She mustn’t be told – not yet,’ he said hurriedly. ‘She might do something foolish, and we’ve had enough foolishness already.’

  Friendly took the implied reproof without demur.

  Badger was beginning to think of an idea. It depended on what the Cat would do with its victim. If it intended killing Husky, then it was already too late for any animal to act. But if it merely meant to keep him captive, there perhaps was a way out. Badger made up his mind. He knew he could not tell the foxes his plan. They would be sure to prevent it. So he gave no sign.

  ‘I think you must wait and speak to your father,’ he told Friendly. ‘No doubt you intended to do that anyway. You must all stay here. I’ll see if I can find him and then I’ll send him back to you. Now, you mustn’t stray – do you promise?’

  ‘We promise,’ said Pace and Rusty. Friendly was too dispirited even to answer.

  Badger shambled away, his head full of what he must do. It was some time before the realization struck him that he did not know where he was going. He did not know where Husky was!

  ‘Oh, you old fool,’ he castigated himself. ‘You forgot to find out where it all happened.’ Now what could he do? He could not traverse the entire Park in search of the elusive hunter. And he could not go back to Friendly with the all-important question. He would be suspicious at once and then his plan would come to nothing. He had not meant really to look for Fox. He only wanted Fox’s three relatives to remain where they were, out of the way. He knew that Fox and Vixen would return eventually of their own accord. But now he could think of nothing better to do than to consult his old friend himself. So he shuffled about, going to all the places he thought most likely to find him, and calling at intervals in his gruff, wheezy voice. He even went up to the stream and along the bank for a stretch in case Fox was after a meal of water-rat. But he saw nobody, not even Whistler, who was comfortably at roost in a tall tree at that time.

  Badger, thoroughly disheartened, made his slow way back again. He hoped to find all the foxes together now. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts on the matter that he did not see a small creature move quickly out of his path. But he heard it squeak.

  ‘Mole?’ he mumbled automatically.

  ‘No. Er – yes. Here I am, Badger,’ was the answer. It was Mossy.

  ‘Oh Mole, what trouble,’ Badger said. ‘Things have taken a turn for the worse. Husky has been captured by that awful Cat.’

  Mossy did not know who Husky was, but he remembered Weasel’s advice and made a pretence. ‘Poor creature,’ he commented, wondering for what sort of creature he was showing sympathy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Badger. ‘They shouldn’t have gone near it. And he’s only a youngster.’

  ‘I know,’ fibbed Mossy.

  ‘If this had to happen to one of us, why couldn’t it have been me – or – or – somebody like me,’ said Badger. ‘My life’s as good as over anyway.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Badger,’ shrilled Mossy, more genuinely. ‘Your friends would be heartbroken.’

  ‘Well, thank you, dear Mole,’ Badger said warmly. ‘But – oh! I must leave you now. There’s no time to waste.’

  Mossy watched Badger lumber away and he felt a surge of affection for the old animal. ‘He was the truest of friends to my father, I know,’ he murmured to himself. ‘Perhaps I can help repay the debt.’

  As soon as he was within sight of Fox and Vixen’s earth once more, Badger noticed that they had come back. All five foxes were in conclave – Friendly, Pace and Rusty anxiously explaining what had happened. Badger paused awhile in order that the bad news would have been grasped, with all its implications, before he joined them. When he did do so, Vixen turned a miserably worried face in his direction. Fox was deep in his own thoughts. Only when Badger was amongst them did he see Tawny Owl looking on from a nearby perch. He wo
ndered if Owl had had something to report too. Now he felt he must ask his question.

  ‘Where is Husky? Where did it take place?’

  In a low voice Pace described the copse. Badger pumped him for more information. What quarter of the Park? Was it near the boundary fence?

  ‘Nowhere near that,’ Tawny Owl chimed in. ‘The Warden is in that area, guarding the deer. So the Beast is keeping well away. In any case, it would have no need to risk being shot.’

  ‘No. There’s other food,’ Badger agreed. Then he wished he had not. He had been thinking of rabbits and such like, but now he wondered about Husky.

  ‘Not only other food,’ Owl continued, ‘but its preferred food.’

  Badger was puzzled. ‘Preferred food?’ he repeated.

  ‘Oh yes. Not all the deer have been penned, you know. I’ve seen two hinds wandering free, quite on their own. They must have wandered off and become separated. Probably old ones past breeding.’

  Now Fox looked up. ‘You see, human ingenuity has failed too, Badger. What hope have we of ridding ourselves of this pest?’

  ‘Well, we can’t live life as if we’re under siege,’ Badger declared. ‘And first of all we must rescue Husky.’

  ‘Do tell us how you propose to do so,’ Tawny Owl begged. He was convinced Badger was becoming senile and he waited to hear a stream of nonsense.

  ‘I do have a plan,’ said Badger uncertainly. ‘But I – I – can’t tell you it.’

  Tawny Owl made derisive noises. But Fox was interested.

  ‘Why can’t you tell us?’ he queried.

  ‘You wouldn’t approve,’ Badger explained.

  ‘He’s got some madcap notion of challenging the Beast to combat, I suppose,’ Owl remarked scornfully.

  Badger remained silent. There was a grain of truth in what he had said but he had not quite hit the mark.

  ‘I hope that’s not –’ Fox began urgently.

  ‘No, no, don’t worry,’ Badger assured him. ‘I’m not quite the old idiot Owl takes me for.’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ Owl remarked, a little embarrassed.