by Colin Dann
Now the wind was beginning to howl and strong gusts whipped at the sedges and rushes by the Pond. Trey’s anger was cooled, despite himself, by the jittery behaviour of the hinds. They sensed the storm and were fretful, lacking direction.
Fox turned his back and led the animals after Plucky. One by one they entered the set, gaining comfort from each other’s company. Whistler joined Toad amongst the rushes.
‘No contest,’ Toad remarked. ‘The Pond’s ours again.’
They watched Trey gathering the hinds. Presently the herd moved away from the water’s edge.
‘They’d be wise to stay in the open,’ Whistler commented. ‘I hope he has the sense not to lead them under the trees.’
The other stags moved away as Trey approached. The strength of the wind increased in power with every passing minute. In a patch of woodland, not too far distant, Badger urged his ancient limbs to greater efforts. He had travelled too far from his own set to be able to return in safety. He could think only of the alternative shelter where, unknown to him, his friends were already assembled. He was between the two and he knew he had put himself in the greatest peril.
16
Storm Over the Park
IN THE TEETH of the wind the deer herd stood on the open grassland. The other stags wandered ever closer, desiring the reassurance brought by a mass of animals. Trey, however, would only allow them within a certain radius of the hinds. If they overstepped this invisible boundary he corrected them. Some of the males lay down. The vicious wind grabbed at their heavy antlers, threatening to pull them over. The females milled about uncertainly. Trey planted his feet farther apart as he battled to withstand the full force of the wind.
The hurricane quickly reached a crescendo. It became impossible for any of the deer to stand against it. The hinds lay down and gritted their teeth, sheltering their youngsters as best they could. Even Trey succumbed and now all thought of rivalries and possession was forgotten in the maelstrom of air that whirled across the Park. The herd, including the other males, instinctively bunched into a tight-knit group. They listened to the crack! crack! of shattering branches from distant trees. There was a creaking, tearing, ripping cacophony, punctuated by crashes as the root systems of mature specimens in the patches of woodland were loosened from their moorings in the saturated soil and their trunks and branches hurled earthwards. One after another was destroyed. Above the boom of the trees smiting the earth like blows from a steam hammer, the screaming, shrieking wind was the dominant sound. It seemed to laugh and mock at the havoc it caused. The terrified wildlife population of the Nature Reserve cowered in their tunnels and holes or took shelter where they could. Some of them left the Park altogether for the open downland as portions of the boundary fence were torn down, leaving escape routes to the world beyond for those who were driven to take them.
In the abandoned set the community of Farthing Wood animals huddled together, almost too frightened to speak. Every tunnel, every chamber of the underground system was occupied. Fox managed to voice his thoughts to Vixen. ‘I’m so thankful that Badger is safe inside his own set.’
As he said it, in that other part of the Park, Mossy dug deeper into the ground while the tempest raged and roared. He had waited for Badger’s return when the wind first sprang up, thinking to return would be the old creature’s first reaction in the storm. But, as time went on and the storm increased in intensity with no sign of Badger, Mossy began to fear the worst. How he rued his own action in Badger’s departure. For, innocent though it was, if he hadn’t brought the message from Fox, Badger would have known nothing of the animals’ expedition to the Pond and would have been quite happy staying put. So Mossy trembled for Badger so exposed to the power of the elements and longed for a miracle to preserve him. The little mole buried himself deeper and deeper to escape the terrifying noise. As he paused from his efforts, suddenly the whole labyrinth of tunnels and passages shook under the most almighty blow which reverberated underground like an earthquake. Mossy thought the world had fallen in on top of him and indeed, in some respects, his own subterranean world had done so. One of the larger trees in the wooded area where Badger had constructed his home had fallen directly on the set and smashed through the system of passages into the heart of his living quarters. Thus unwittingly Badger had saved himself by his determination to defy Fox’s advice.
Yet now, with every faltering, stumbling step he took across the Park, Badger was still risking death. All around him heavy branches, snapped by the wind, were falling to the ground with their heavy loads of twigs and leaves. As he scuttled free from one dangerous spot another bough would break and bar his way. When the trees themselves began to fall he knew he must attempt to get into the open. But his progress was constantly impeded by the huge obstacles which littered every portion of the woodland.
‘It looks as if I escaped being poisoned only to be flattened by an oak,’ he muttered grimly. ‘If that’s to be my fate I wish I’d died earlier because now I’ll never know if the others survive.’
Somehow he struggled on. The horrific howl of the storm accompanied him every step of the way. Badger pulled himself over or under branches, making a circuit of the larger uprooted trees. Some of these had not been torn entirely free from the soil and still quivered as if in their death throes. At last he saw light ahead at the edge of the woodland. It was so dark under the trees that even a slight lessening of the gloom was markedly noticeable. Clouds raced at breakneck speed across the sky, obliterating the moon and stars. But as Badger – panting, exhausted, terrified – pulled himself over the last hurdle of a mass of flattened vegetation, the hurricane strength of the wind was dropping. Badger forced himself on, putting sufficient distance between himself and the horrible sound of crashing trees. Eventually he could go no further. His shaky legs gave way beneath him and he lay, quite helpless, with the storm roaring overhead. The worst of it, however, was past.
When Trey became aware that the storm’s force was slackening he scrambled to his feet to survey the herd. A few metres from where the deer were gathered was a crumbled piece of fencing which had once marked the limit of the Nature Reserve. Next to it a hefty Scots Pine, not quite ripped from the earth, leant at a crazy angle and swayed threateningly with every gust of air. Trey saw the wide gap in the boundary fence and he saw the males of the White Deer herd dotted amongst his hinds. He tossed his great head, almost in defiance at the storm’s diminishing power. He was once again the royal stag, jealous of interference. The other males stirred as they saw him towering over the herd. Some of them remembered the tales of how Trey had sworn to drive them from the Park. One by one they stood up, uncertain of their next move. They were not long in noticing a ready-made exit close at hand.
Trey now decided to rid himself of their competition for good. He began to see a way of doing it, thereby fulfilling Fox’s prediction, though without realizing it himself. It was growing light. The wind still buffeted the males’ antlers, making it hard for them to keep their balance.
‘Begone,’ Trey ordered the stags. ‘The danger is over. Move away from my hinds, I say.’
The males extricated themselves from the herd and wandered off a little way. Trey wasn’t satisfied. They hadn’t moved far enough. Something about the way the other stags still seemed to be hovering in hope near his females aroused his anger once more.
‘That’s the way, over there, through that gap!’ he ordered them.
When they looked at the broken fence and back at Trey in disbelief he began to hustle them.
‘I want no rivals near, do you hear? Go now of your own volition or be driven out!’ And, to hasten their departure, he cantered towards them with lowered antlers.
Some of the inferior stags took him at his word and actually ran through the gap out of the Park. The hinds watched in amazement. The stouter males saw no reason why they should be forced from their home. But Trey meant to do just that. As they hesitated he singled one out and charged at him. The animal put up no resis
tance. In a moment he had joined those who had already left. The remainder were not so easily cowed. They realized that if they didn’t make a stand now Trey would have the Park to himself indefinitely. As he ran at them they ducked and weaved and sidestepped in any direction but the one in which he intended they should go. His temper flared. He managed to connect with one stag, butting him and bowling him over. The deer leapt up and ran for the opening. Trey scented victory. He chose another target, a particularly sturdy animal, and gave chase. The two stags went round and round, this way and that. The others looked on in suspense. Trey drove the other male close to the leaning pine. The stag stumbled over the broken fencing, was momentarily overbalanced, and a gust of wind did the rest. He went sprawling. As he fell he smashed against the pine tree which began to rock ominously. Trey, carried forward by the impetus of his charge, was unable to pull up. As the huge tree teetered Trey was underneath it. Even as he turned to avoid it the pine lost its tenuous grip on the soil and fell. It fell directly on to the royal stag, pinning him down beneath its weight. The mighty overlord of White Deer Park lay motionless. The other stag regained its feet. Then the herd mingled around Trey, looking in horror and awe at his stricken body. The males outside the Park returned to gaze at the sight. Trey looked at them helplessly through glassy eyes. His tongue protruded from his muzzle. Blood flowed from his open mouth and collected in a pool under his head.
Dawn broke over the shattered Nature Reserve. Many trees had fallen. Many lives had been lost. In the Hollow, Adder uncoiled himself and slid away. During the passing of the storm he had not stirred a fraction.
17
Homeless
IT WAS A while before the animals were sure it was safe to leave the shelter of the abandoned set. They had listened to the moan of the wind for so long that the quietness now seemed unreal and they expected the storm to return at any moment. Eventually, when it grew light, Friendly went to the end of the exit tunnel and looked out. Everywhere there was evidence of the path of the storm. Around the Pond the rushes and sedges were flattened as if by some mighty haymaker. At one end a birch tree had fallen into the water, its branches and leaves trailing under the surface. Some of the Edible Frogs were sitting on its trunk. Friendly wondered how many more were squashed underneath. As he looked further afield he could see a wooded area thinned out by the hurricane’s savagery. He hurried back to the others.
‘It’s – it’s changed,’ he whispered. ‘Everything’s changed.’
Now all the animals wanted to look. They left the abandoned set and sat in a group around the entrance hole, not quite believing what they saw. The older animals were reminded of their past.
‘It’s just like Farthing Wood when the bulldozers came,’ Fox said sorrowfully.
Weasel tried to raise their spirits. ‘But there are many trees still standing or – or – leaning . . .’
Fox recognized a new danger here. ‘We must avoid the wooded areas as much as we can now. Listen! I can hear them creaking.’
Leveret, whose home was in the open grassland, said: ‘What about your homes under the trees?’ Most of the foxes’ earths were amongst the woodland.
‘We may have to make new ones,’ Vixen answered him. She shook her coat. ‘Let’s go and see if Toad’s all right.’
The animals went to the Pond’s edge, calling his name. Toad came crawling eagerly from his rushy bower.
‘What a night,’ he croaked. ‘I thought it would never end. Whistler kept me company. But he’s gone now to examine his nest. Fox,’ he enthused, ‘it’s marvellous to see you all safe. I watched you with the stag. How cool you were!’
‘Hm. No sign of the deer,’ Fox answered. ‘I wonder how they fared?’
‘The main thing is, we’ve all come through,’ Toad said happily. ‘But where’s Badger?’
‘No need to worry about him. He’s safe in his own set,’ said Friendly.
The animals realized that their priority now was to see how their own homes had suffered.
‘Remember, everyone,’ said Fox, ‘the trees! Tread carefully and avoid creakers. Good luck.’
They left Toad by the water and went their own ways. It was Fox and Vixen who found Badger. The old animal had rallied with the daylight and was creeping about, not sure whether to continue on to the Pond or retrace his steps. The sight of the pair of foxes put new heart into him. He was eager to know whether they had encountered Trey, but first he had to explain to his astounded friends what he was doing there.
‘Foolish but loyal creature,’ Fox commented warmly. ‘And there we were, all of us, congratulating ourselves you were out of harm’s way.’
‘I did take a bit of a risk,’ said Badger. ‘Mole tried to prevent me, but I thought you might need me. Did Trey make an appearance?’
‘Oh yes, he was there. But we soon dealt with him.’ Fox described their tactics. ‘I don’t think he’ll be bothering us so much from now on.’ He didn’t know how right he was.
‘Are you heading homeward?’ Badger asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Will you walk with me? It may take you a little longer because we have to avoid that stretch of woodland – it’s full of debris – and, well, I may be rather slow.’
‘Of course we’ll go with you,’ Vixen answered. ‘What an unnecessary question. We’ll see you to your set.’
‘No need to come all the way,’ Badger said, keen to retain some semblance of independence. ‘Just as far as your own earth.’
They set off. Badger was indeed slow but the foxes were patient and made no attempt to hurry him. As they progressed they constantly saw new areas of destruction. They discussed the changed aspect of the Park. At one point they spied the Warden in the distance doing his own round of damage inspection. The sight of the man always inspired confidence amongst the animals.
‘He’ll make it all right again,’ Badger murmured trustfully.
‘It’ll never be quite the same,’ Fox contended. ‘Remember Farthing Wood. When trees are down . . .’ He left the rest unsaid.
‘It’s still the Park,’ Vixen commented. ‘The animals’ Park. No human dwellings. We’ll get used to the changes.’
As they travelled Whistler was flying to meet them. He had seen Trey’s body from the air and so, for the second time in a season, the heron was the first to bring news of the fall of a dominant stag. He scoured the Reserve for a sight of Fox. Presently the three animals heard the well-loved whistle of the bird’s punctured wing. With a few mighty flaps Whistler came to rest on the ground a metre or two ahead of them.
‘Astonishing news,’ he greeted them. ‘Our tormentor is a victim of the storm. He’s lying by the perimeter fence, crushed under a tree.’
‘Trey?’
‘None other.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘Not dead, but utterly helpless.’
Fox and Vixen exchanged glances. They were stunned. Yet they had mixed feelings about the news. Badger, however, had a look of satisfaction.
‘The stag has made his last patrol of the Park,’ he remarked. ‘So that’s one of our troubles removed.’
Fox looked doubtful. ‘Where is the rest of the herd?’ he asked Whistler.
‘Milling around the fallen leader,’ the heron replied. ‘They seem to be in some sort of confusion.’
‘Well, it’s no concern of ours,’ said Badger. ‘We have other matters to think about. We don’t even know if our homes have survived.’
‘Whistler, forgive us,’ said Vixen. ‘Your news drove every other thought out of our heads. Did your nest survive?’
‘No. It’s wrecked,’ he replied. ‘But nests are easy to replace. Not so the trees that supported them.’ He left them then to give the news to others of the community.
‘Many homes must have been destroyed,’ said Badger. ‘The birds and squirrels will have fared worst.’
‘I – I wonder if Owl survived,’ Fox murmured. ‘I don’t think we’ll ever know. Oh, I do yearn to see that poor pompous ol
d bird!’
‘Me too,’ Badger echoed. ‘It just hasn’t been the same without him. Even if he is so quarrelsome at times.’
Fox was amused in a sad kind of way. ‘I bet Weasel misses their arguments,’ he ventured to say.
The sun was well up when they approached Fox and Vixen’s earth. They went very warily under the trees. But the foxes were fortunate. Their earth was situated in a copse of immature trees which, with their more flexible trunks and branches, had survived very much better than many of the larger specimens.
‘We’re lucky,’ Fox said to Vixen. ‘May you have the same luck, Badger, old friend.’
‘We shall see, we shall see,’ Badger replied as he trudged on, leaving them behind. He crossed the open space between the foxes’ copse and the sloping piece of young beech woodland within which his set had been excavated. He soon noticed that, just as elsewhere in the Park, this patch of woodland was altered beyond recognition. Many well-grown trees had met their deaths during the hurricane’s brief but imperious rule. They lay, spanning the ground amongst the litter of branches and brushwood. Badger paused to listen for the tell-tale creaks that might herald the imminent fall of those weakened trees not yet entirely prised from the ground. There was nothing immediately noticeable. He loped his way anxiously around the obstructions in his path. He was not far now from his set. A little farther – and he stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at the crater in the ground which was all that was left of his home, crushed beneath the impact of the fallen tree. Badger was rooted to the spot.
‘My – my home,’ he whispered. ‘I have no home.’ Over and over again he muttered the last words. Then, all at once the realization came to him of his narrow escape. He knew that there was no question but that he would have been killed had he stayed where Fox had wanted him to. He recognized the irony of Fox’s parting wish. For, despite his new homelessness, Badger was lucky. Very lucky indeed. He continued to gaze at the smashed set, wondering how or where he would be able to construct a new home at his advanced age. The thought was not in his mind for long. He had suddenly remembered Mossy.
