The Animals of Farthing Wood

by Colin Dann

  ‘He is clever,’ admitted Owl, ‘but I’m sure we’ve all been of some assistance, at one stage or another, on the journey.’

  Adder saw where Tawny Owl’s thoughts lay, but, a trifle spitefully, pretended ignorance to afford himself some amusement.

  ‘Of course,’ he hissed, ‘there’s no question of anyone else assuming the leadership of the party.’

  ‘Er . . . no, of course not,’ said Tawny Owl.

  ‘And yet, if Fox should fall sick or something . . . there would have to be some changes,’ Adder went on. ‘I suppose Badger would step into his tracks in that case.’

  ‘I really couldn’t say,’ Tawny Owl said shortly. ‘Badger has a good heart, and he’s kind. But I don’t know if he’s got all the necessary qualities . . .’

  Adder could not resist replying: ‘But then who else is there?’

  ‘Well,’ Tawny Owl said, ruffling his feathers importantly, ‘I . . . um . . . would always . . .’

  ‘You were perhaps thinking of yourself ?’ Adder suggested.

  ‘Well, Adder, you know I myself would never have mentioned it,’ said Tawny Owl, ‘but as you began on the subject . . .’

  ‘Did I?’ said the teasing snake. ‘Yes. I must have done. Ah well, I suppose we all have our aspirations, but whether we ever succeed in them is another matter.’

  Tawny Owl felt that Adder was making him look foolish. He tried to retrieve some dignity. ‘For my part,’ he said, ‘I shall be content to act as counsellor when called upon to do so. Fox, I know, relies on me in that respect.’

  ‘Oh, quite,’ returned Adder. ‘Er . . . shall we move on?’

  As they continued towards the copse, Tawny Owl was uncomfortably aware that, without any distinct confession on his part, Adder had exposed a very private feeling of his, the existence of which he had scarcely acknowledged to himself.

  It was dawn as they entered the copse. They found their friends astir, their slumbers having been interrupted by the first noises from the rookery. They were greeted with enthusiasm by the whole party, but as soon as possible they pleaded tiredness and went away to find resting-places. For Tawny Owl, in any case, it was customary to sleep during the daylight hours, so this arrangement suited him admirably. The other animals busied themselves exploring the copse.

  Thus the best part of the day was spent, and when most of them, apart from the squirrels, had returned to the elm scrub after their wanderings, they were joined by several visitors.

  These were a number of the male rooks who, flying down from the elm-tops, came waddling towards the animals, their iridescent purplish plumage reflecting the shafts of late sunlight that broke through the thick greenery. Naturally they were curious to know what had brought such a miscellaneous group of animals to their particular copse, but there was no trace of resentment in their tone.

  Fox explained why they were there, describing their travels as he did so.

  ‘I must tell you,’ said one of the rooks, interrupting him after a while, ‘that we did wonder if you could be that party of animals we had heard about.’

  The animals exchanged surprised glances.

  ‘Word spreads quickly in the bird world,’ said the rook, ‘and, of course, such an event as a fire is soon common knowledge in the neighbourhood. We’ve all heard of your escape from that, and how you ran through the storm. But I’ve never heard tell of a White Deer Park, so there must be a good long way ahead of you yet.’

  This observation brought Toad into the conversation, explaining that he was acting as guide because he had already travelled the distance once on his own.

  The rook shook his head in admiration. ‘I wish I had your pioneer spirit,’ he said. ‘But I’m too old for that sort of thing now. This rookery’s been my home all my life, and I expect to end my days here.’

  ‘Oh! we’re not all youngsters in this party,’ chuckled Toad. ‘Badger and I have both reached double figures, you know.’

  ‘Then I admire you all the more,’ said the rook, who seemed to be the patriarch of the copse rookery. ‘But now that you’re here,’ he added, ‘I hope you won’t leave us too soon, despite your long journey. We don’t see many ground folk here, and we rooks always enjoy a good chat.’

  ‘We’ve already decided to spend a few days here,’ Fox told him. ‘We need some uninterrupted rest before we move on.’

  ‘You’ve made a wise decision,’ replied the rook, who failed to recognize the veiled hint in Fox’s remark. ‘It’s secluded and peaceful here,’ he went on. ‘Nobody ever comes near the place. We’re really delighted to have your company.’

  He looked round at his companions. ‘Are we singing tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘It was fixed for tomorrow,’ replied one of the younger rooks.

  ‘We fellows have a bit of a sing-song some evenings,’ the old rook explained to the animals, ‘when the ladies are in the nest with the young ones. We gather under the trees. If you’d care to join us tomorrow evening under the tall elms, we could have a longer chat too.’

  ‘I’m sure we’d all like to come,’ said Fox. ‘How kind of you.’

  ‘Till tomorrow then,’ said the old rook, opening his wings for flight.

  ‘Till tomorrow,’ said Fox.

  15

  The river

  The animals were made so welcome by their new friends the rooks, that they were all very reluctant to leave the copse. The days drifted by, free of any danger, and all the members of the party were able to enjoy their first freedom from intrusion since before they had left Farthing Wood.

  Badger found an old disused set, part of which he soon cleaned and lined for his own quarters, while the rabbits occupied some of the other chambers.

  Mole, Weasel, and Fox, too, slept in the old tunnels leading to this group of chambers. The voles and fieldmice made their home under the exposed roots of an ancient sycamore, and Toad contented himself with retiring into a discarded jam-jar that he had found amongst some ground-ivy.

  The squirrels, of course, built makeshift dreys of old leaves and twigs in the tree-tops, but far enough from the rookery for them to enjoy some privacy.

  Only the hedgehogs and hares remained on ground level, and Hare found it necessary to accommodate his family on some dry grass well away from where the hedgehogs collected to sleep, owing to the fact that they would snore so.

  Nobody knew where Adder hid himself: one or other of the animals would sometimes stumble across him sunbathing in a warm spot in a glade, but he seemed never deliberately to seek anyone’s company.

  Kestrel hunted by day, in the open country and farmland that surrounded the copse, and in the evening he returned. When it grew quite dark, Tawny Owl flew away on his nocturnal wanderings, and between them the two birds kept the party informed of anything outside the copse that could pose a threat to the continuance of their journey.

  It was so easy for them all, now they had the opportunity, to slip back into their usual habits of foraging, eating and sleeping, and with the occasional diversion of a party and a conversation with the rooks, many of the animals began to wonder why they had to move on at all.

  Fox, however, saw the danger of their being lulled into a false sense of security, for he felt quite sure there was something significant about the absence of any resident animals in the copse. So, one morning about ten days after they had first arrived, he made a tour of the copse and rounded everyone up, including Adder, telling them to be ready to leave at dusk on the following day.

  That night they had their last sing-song with the rooks, and, despite their friends’ efforts to persuade them to stay a little longer, they made their farewells.

  At the appointed time, the animals gathered in the elm-scrub, and when they were all present, Fox led them out of the copse, to a chorus of good-luck caws from the rooks, who had stayed up late to see them off.

  Their way took them first through a wide area of farmland. After their recent experience with the bull-mastiff, the animals were far more cautious of
straying too near human dwellings or livestock enclosures, where other fierce dogs might be on guard.

  Following Toad’s directions Fox led them on a route that skirted most of the farm buildings, and which always had sufficient cover for them to lie up in during the day.

  Emerging from their communal hiding-place at dusk each day the animals would spend some time searching for food. They would eat together, as far as this was possible, and then set off for their night’s travel, stopping to drink on the way as soon as they found the opportunity. Water was no longer a problem as, ever since the May drought had ended, showers of rain had fallen regularly.

  For as long as Toad informed them that they were still in the vicinity of human habitations, their pattern of movement and rest never changed, and as the days wore on they drew close to the river.

  Finally, one night, they passed the last farm on their side of the river, and when they rested at daybreak the animals could see the green meadows, many dotted with vivid yellow buttercups, sloping gently away from them down to the water’s edge.

  They looked their fill at the peaceful scene, before finding a corner in one meadow, overgrown with thick shrubs, nettles and dock, where they could sleep during the day.

  As they settled down to rest, Hare asked Toad what they would find on the other side of the river.

  ‘More meadows,’ replied Toad. ‘When we’ve passed those, as far as I can remember there’s a long stretch of common land. Don’t worry, it’ll all come back to me when I see it again.’

  ‘Is the river very wide?’ asked Vole.

  ‘Not very,’ said Toad. ‘None of us will have any trouble crossing it. There’s a stretch of water, just a few yards along the bank from where we will arrive, which is almost still, the current there is so slow. Leave it to me, I’ll see we all get across at the right point.’

  This assurance satisfied all the immediate queries regarding what lay ahead of them, and, without further ado, the animals prepared for sleep.

  Kestrel declared he was tired of hunting at dusk, when his piercing eyesight was of little use, and that now the sun was coming up, he was going to make the most of it.

  ‘Poor old Kestrel,’ Tawny Owl sympathized. ‘I’m getting the best of the arrangement at the moment, travelling at night, sleeping by day. It doesn’t suit him at all, of course. It’s a complete reversal of his usual habits.’

  ‘We have to plan every move with an eye on safety,’ said Fox. ‘I myself am not averse to a spot of daytime hunting for a change; but for a party, it’s far safer to go off foraging when it’s dark, and, of course, to journey by night.’

  ‘Dusk,’ hissed Adder, ‘is the best time for hunting activities. I’ve found that it’s then that all the tastiest little creatures are stirring.’ Here he was unable to avoid casting a meaningful glance at the fieldmice, making them quail. ‘And it suits me . . . er . . . right down to the ground, as you might say.’

  The larger animals and Tawny Owl chuckled at this quip, but the fieldmice and the voles shifted uneasily. They were still unsure of the snake’s intentions towards them, even as travelling companions, and were more than glad of the reassuring presence of Badger and Fox.

  As the sun rose higher, bees and butterflies began to appear, skipping from one buttercup to another, or settling on the white clover flowers. Weevils and beetles, grasshoppers, ants and earwigs were all busy amongst the grass stalks, and the morning was filled with their rustlings and murmurings.

  Drowsiness soon fell on all the animal band, and they gratefully shut their eyes.

  Another day passed, and Fox led them through the cool meadows to the bank of the river. They paused, looking down into the clear water that reflected the starry night sky in its blackness. Then they drank greedily before they undertook the important crossing.

  Toad led them upstream a short way, looking carefully for the spot where he himself had crossed before. Eventually he came to a halt.

  ‘I’m sure this is it,’ he told them confidently. ‘There’s a hole in the bank here just like the one I hid in last time. It must be the same one.’

  The animals drew themselves up into a bunch, and all of them started to jostle at the water’s edge in their efforts to examine the state of the river.

  ‘You’re right, Toad,’ Fox declared. ‘The water here seems scarcely to be moving.’

  ‘It looks a long way to the other bank,’ squeaked Fieldmouse.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Toad kindly. ‘I’ll go across first. You can watch me. I’m about your size, and if I can do it . . .’

  ‘You go ahead,’ Fox told him. ‘The rest of us will take to the water together, and help each other. Good luck!’

  Toad gave them a smile and sprang from the bank, landing in the water with a modest little plop. The animals watched as the regular backward-kicking of his strong hind legs propelled his small body across the river in a series of jerks.

  As he reached the middle, he was lost to their view, but a few minutes later they heard his croaks of triumph from the opposite bank.

  ‘I’ve done it! I’ve done it!’ he called. ‘Come and join me! The water’s lovely.’

  Fox sent Kestrel and Tawny Owl across to join him. The animals paused on the brink, waiting for directions.

  ‘We’ll all go together,’ Fox repeated. ‘Line up along the bank, everyone.’

  The voles and fieldmice took the middle position, flanked by the squirrels and hedgehogs. The rabbits, Hare and his family, and Badger took up their positions on the far right. Weasel, Fox, Mole and Adder were on the far left.

  To Toad’s encouraging cries, the long line of assorted animals entered the inky water together.

  Mole and Badger were soon ahead of the rest, both being excellent swimmers, and the hares and hedgehogs found no difficulty in paddling their way across. Fox and Weasel swam well within their capabilities in order to keep an eye on the rest, who were not faring so well.

  Strangely enough, of the slower swimmers the voles and fieldmice were the most adept. It was merely their size and comparative weakness that made the crossing of the river a daunting task. Yet they kept bravely on, their tiny heads poking above the surface, and their even tinier pink feet paddling furiously.

  Adder, who was not really a keen swimmer, seemed to be making reasonable progress. The rabbits and squirrels were the slowest.

  These animals were the jumpiest and the most nervous of the party. Although they all possessed the ability to swim, once they were in the water they seemed to lose their heads. Instead of striking out for the opposite bank, they went round and round in circles, thrashing the water in a kind of panic, and paying no heed to Fox and Weasel who attempted to calm them.

  Toad watched the proceedings with considerable anxiety. Although he had been able to see all of his companions when they lined up on the bank in the moonlight, once they had entered the blackness of the water he could see only the reflected stars and the heads of the largest animals, Badger and Fox. The only evidence of the presence of any other animals in the river was the noise of their splashing, and the widening rings on the surface of the water that had been caused by their entrance. It was only when some of them reached what was about the halfway point, that Toad, peering over the water, could distinguish their features.

  He spotted Mole, swimming dexterously, alongside his friend Badger. ‘I can see you, Badger! I can see you too, Mole!’ Toad shouted excitedly, and in another minute he was welcoming their dripping bodies as they pulled themselves on to the bank.

  Badger shook himself like a dog, and sent a shower of water over Tawny Owl. Ignoring the bird’s protests, he turned back to see how his companions were managing.

  The hedgehogs, who actually seemed to be enjoying the swim, had almost reached the shore. Behind them, in the gloom, Badger noticed Hare’s mate, swimming comfortably, while Hare himself was paddling between his two young ones, holding them on course.

  Soon the members of the party safely on the bank numbered nine
teen, including the two birds, and with the arrival of the undulating Adder, the number became a round twenty.

  Next into sight were the voles and fieldmice, who had formed one closely-packed mass, so that they appeared to Badger like one creature, with an infinite number of heads.

  These brave little animals could hardly find the strength to climb out of the water after their exhausting efforts but, needless to say, their friends on the bank all rallied round to help them up to safety.

  ‘I knew you could do it,’ said Toad, ‘if courage played any part in the matter. You’ll be surprised to see that a lot of the larger animals are still in the river; so you’ve really set them an example.’

  ‘Wherever can Fox be?’ asked Badger, with a note of concern in his voice. ‘I can’t see him at all.’

  Straining his weak eyes for a glimpse of his friend, he walked along the bank a few steps, and then returned to go in the other direction, a puzzled expression on his face.

  ‘Fox!’ he called. ‘Are you all right? We can’t see you.’

  The only sounds that reached his ears were the continuing splashes that had been audible ever since they had all first entered the river.

  ‘Fox!’ he called again, more loudly. ‘Are you there? Rabbit! Weasel! Can you hear me?’

  A muffled reply from he knew not whom followed his cries. He could not distinguish a single word.

  ‘What was that?’ he shouted. ‘I can’t hear you.’

  Just then Weasel’s head appeared out of the darkness, and the squirrels were with him.

  ‘Bit . . . of . . . difficulty,’ he panted, as he paddled nearer. ‘The rabbits . . . took fright. Swam in . . . all directions, except . . . the right one. Fox is . . . trying to calm . . . them down. Squirrels . . . all right now.’

  Badger called the rabbits all sorts of names under his breath.

  ‘Can he manage?’ he asked, as the squirrels, somewhat shamefaced, and Weasel joined the throng.

  ‘I don’t know for sure,’ replied Weasel. ‘He’s tiring. I told him to leave them, but he wouldn’t.’