The Animals of Farthing Wood

by Colin Dann

  ‘I sometimes wonder if any of them will reach our destination,’ admitted Fox. ‘The journey is really too harrowing for such small animals.’

  ‘I wish you luck,’ said the horse feelingly. ‘I mustn’t detain you. Your friends will be worried.’

  ‘You’ve been good company,’ said Fox politely. ‘Perhaps one day you’ll hear news of our success.’ He got up and shook his coat.

  ‘I hope so,’ said the horse. ‘I’ll be thinking of you every day.’

  Fox opened his lips in a smile. ‘Goodbye,’ he said.

  ‘Goodbye, my friend,’ said the horse. ‘Bon voyage !’

  Fox left the field without a backward glance. He had a long run ahead of him still.

  As he trotted along, keeping as much as he could behind a screen of undergrowth or shrubs, he recognized various landmarks he had passed as he floated down the river. Some of the boats were certainly familiar, and, looking across the broad stretch of water to the other side, occasional aspects of the landscape brought again to his mind the thoughts that had occupied him as he passed the spot earlier.

  Most of the time he had been endeavouring to think up some means by which he could get out of his predicament, but the plight of his friends, without their leader, had also been uppermost in his mind. He had constantly hoped, too, that Badger would send Kestrel to search for him, and as he retraced his journey, he kept scanning the sky for a sight of the bird. His friends seemed so far away.

  After some hours, Fox knew he would have to stop for a rest. Although he could not really afford time to sleep, he realized that it was essential to refresh himself with a nap, in order to have any chance of rejoining Badger and the others. Apart from a few minutes when he had fallen into an uneasy doze as he drifted helplessly along, trapped amongst the brushwood, Fox had been far too alarmed to sleep properly. He started to look round for a likely spot of cover.

  There were still many anglers and picnickers too close for comfort, so he kept going at a slackened pace. Traffic on the river was confined at this point to one or two small motor or rowing-boats, and Fox thought he could see that the opposite bank had drawn just a fraction closer. Presently he came to a spot where a thick grove of willow trees grew right down by the water’s edge. Here it was impossible for any human to approach the river from the bank, and so Fox decided it was an excellent place to hide himself.

  He crept under the trees and laid himself down under the thick leaves of a tree whose boughs bent so low that some of them brushed the ground. Here Fox was sure he was invisible from the river too, and he gratefully laid his head on his paws and let out a long sigh. A few hours’ rest and he would be fresh on the trail again. He was so sleepy that he was able to ignore the pangs of hunger that had begun to make themselves felt in the pit of his stomach. A gentle breeze rustled the willow leaves, causing them to stroke his fur. In another moment Fox had fallen into a deep sleep.

  20

  The vixen

  It was completely dark when Fox was woken by a strong breeze blowing through the sheltering willow trees. He got up, feeling refreshed but appallingly hungry. After stretching all his limbs in turn, he emerged from his bower and set about finding something to eat.

  In his ravenous state, Fox had no scruples about snapping up any small creatures that happened to be abroad. Beetles, slugs, worms, snails were all tasty titbits to his keen appetite. When he had taken the edge off his hunger, Fox continued on his way at a smart trot, remembering the warning of the old horse.

  At night the river was quiet; there were no longer any noisy motor-boats about, and no humans sitting or strolling on the river’s banks.

  A complete day and night had now passed since he had been swept away by the river debris, and he had seen no sign of any of his companions coming to look for him. He realized that the distance he had been carried in the water was far too great to allow anyone but one of the birds to set out in search. He wondered if he might have missed Kestrel while he had been sleeping, but as many hours of daylight had passed without any sign of the bird before he had stopped to rest, Fox gradually became certain that his friends had given him up for lost. He felt terribly alone.

  As he went on, he reflected that the sort of community life he had been living during the last month or so on the journey had changed him. He had lived in a rather solitary style in Farthing Wood – a typical fox’s life, sleeping during the day for the most part, roaming and hunting alone at night. Of course, Badger had always been his friend, and there had been other acquaintances, notably Tawny Owl. But, in those days, he had not been in the habit of inviting the company of others. Now Fox found himself so in need of companionship that he could feel a definite physical ache inside. What worried him most at that moment was that, if the other animals had indeed decided he was lost to them, they would move on, continue their journey, leaving him further behind. The one consolation was that, alone, he could travel a great deal faster than the party, obliged to travel at the pace of the slowest. He increased his pace to a canter, which he knew he could maintain quite easily.

  He still cherished a faint hope that, now it was night, Tawny Owl might be on his way to him. But as time wore on, this hope waned.

  Constantly wondering about the fate of Badger and the rabbits, who had still been struggling in the river when he was swept away, Fox suffered real anguish in his ignorance. There was very little to take his mind off these thoughts as he travelled through the cloud covered, breezy night.

  He felt he was making some recognizable progress when he spotted the weir a little way ahead of him. The sound of the furious, swirling water made him shiver again, and he forced his tiring legs to a still faster pace.

  Soon pale streaks of grey appeared in the sky, the clouds seemed to lighten in hue and with the approach of dawn, the breeze dropped.

  As the light gathered, Fox’s weariness became more acute. These two things progressed together, so that the thought came to Fox’s mind that as soon as it was broad day, he would drop from exhaustion.

  At length he stopped running, and, his head hanging between his legs, his breath came in long panting gasps. He descended the river bank, and lapped up the cool, treacherous water, while his weakened legs quivered like a hovering kestrel’s wing-beats.

  When his great thirst had been slaked Fox knew he could go no further. If he was ever to catch up with the friends who needed him, he must keep his strength up by eating and sleeping sufficiently. He felt satisfied with the progress he had made during the night, and started to look round for a resting-place.

  There was nowhere with sufficient cover by the riverside, so Fox moved further away from the water, towards the fields and meadows where there were thick, concealing hedges. In a corner of one field, under the hedgerow, he found a large burrow. He first sniffed very carefully all round the hole, and then put his head inside and sniffed again.

  He thought he could smell fox, but as there was no sound, he very cautiously ventured inside. The hole was dark, warm and empty. It could indeed have been a fox’s earth, he decided, but how recently it had been occupied he could not tell. He went back to the entrance once more and looked out. There was no sign of any animal nearby. Fox turned his back on the daylight and made himself comfortable on the bare earth floor. It was quite soft enough to send him off to sleep almost at once.

  He awoke with a jump as he felt something touch his body. In the darkness it was some time before he could see what it was, but his strong sense of smell conveyed to him at once the unmistakable scent of a female fox. He scrambled to his feet.

  ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ said the vixen soothingly. ‘Stay and rest as long as you like. It’s dusk, and I must go in search of food.’

  ‘I . . . I didn’t know the place was occupied, you see,’ Fox stammered, ‘It was empty, and I . . .’

  ‘It’s only one of my retreats,’ explained the vixen.

  Fox looked puzzled.

  ‘I haven’t been in this area for some time,’ she expla
ined. ‘I was passing, and I could hear your breathing.’

  ‘I was very tired,’ Fox explained.

  ‘Have you been travelling? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.’

  ‘Travelling?’ Fox smiled. ‘Yes, I have. It’s a long story.’

  ‘I’d be interested to hear it – if you feel like telling me.’

  ‘I should enjoy it,’ said Fox. ‘But you said you were about to go hunting. I haven’t eaten either – and . . . well, perhaps we could hunt together and bring our food back here. Then, after we’ve finished, I’ll tell you how I came here.’

  ‘That’s a marvellous idea,’ said Vixen. ‘Shall we go straight away?’

  ‘Rather,’ replied Fox emphatically. ‘I’m ravenous.’

  Vixen led the way from the earth, and Fox trotted beside her, experiencing a new feeling of companionship, quite different from anything he had felt before.

  As they crossed the darkening fields, Fox now and again glanced at his new acquaintance. He thought Vixen was the most wonderful creature he had ever seen, and he intended to make her aware of it when the time was right.

  Together they hunted, and together, through the moonlight, they slipped back to the earth with their catch. All this time neither of them uttered a word.

  Safe underground again, they devoured their supper and Vixen invited Fox to tell his story. So he told her of Farthing Wood and his friends, of their journey to White Deer Park, of the calamity in the river, and how he was on his way to rejoin the band as their leader.

  Vixen listened with the greatest interest and admiration for their exploits. ‘How brave you all are,’ she murmured when Fox had finished.

  ‘And you?’ asked Fox. ‘Tell me your story.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Vixen laughed, and shook her head. ‘There isn’t any story really. I’ve always lived in this part of the country. Fortunately my home has not been taken from me by the humans, although I’ve had my brushes with them.’

  ‘The Hunt?’ Fox asked in a low voice.

  ‘Yes, but I’ve been lucky. I’ve heard it in full cry more than once, but always in pursuit of another animal.’

  ‘Poor creatures.’ Fox shuddered.

  ‘It’s part of our existence.’ Vixen smiled. ‘We learn to live with it. One day it might be my turn, but until then . . . I’m free.’

  ‘I can’t bear to think that you . . .’ Fox began – but broke off.

  ‘What were you going to say?’ Vixen asked gently.

  Fox did not reply at once. Then he said, ‘I couldn’t help but look at you while we were hunting. You’re the most marvellous creature I’ve ever seen – so swift and lithe. How your eyes shone! And your coat is beautiful – glossy and soft.’

  Vixen was silent. She looked away shyly . . .

  ‘I wish you were my mate,’ said Fox. ‘Then you’d have nothing to fear. I would protect you – from everything.’

  Vixen looked up and smiled. ‘I believe you would,’ she said softly. ‘Gallant Fox.’

  ‘Then will you come with me as my mate, and help me to find my friends?’

  Vixen fell silent again, and stared down at the earthen floor as if thinking. Fox held his breath. Eventually she looked up and met his eyes in the darkness.

  ‘I will travel with you until you find your friends,’ she said finally.

  Fox’s spirits sank. Her reply was less than he had hoped for.

  Vixen sensed his disappointment. ‘I cannot promise more at present,’ she said. ‘But as we travel, by and by I shall make up my mind.’

  Fox understood her at once. He had to prove himself to her. For her caution he admired her even more.

  He made a resolve. ‘I shall be worthy of you,’ he said solemnly under his breath. Aloud he said, ‘Then I can hope?’

  Vixen laughed. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t want it otherwise.’ She lay down on the floor.

  ‘You must be tired,’ said Fox. ‘I’ve rested, and I’m ready to start. But you must have your rest, too. While you sleep, I’ll speak to the night creatures. Perhaps they will have news of Badger and the others. I’ll return before dawn. Sleep well.’

  ‘I shall,’ said Vixen, resting her head on her paws.

  Fox left the earth and made for the nearest wood. If the local owls were about they would be sure to have some knowledge of the Farthing Wood party. He must find out which way his friends were heading.

  The wood was quiet and very dark, save for silvery patches of moonlight filtering through the gaps in the trees. The mellow, liquid notes of a nightingale assailed his ears, and he quickly followed its direction. He found the songster perched on a hawthorn branch.

  ‘I compliment you on your voice,’ said Fox diplomatically, ‘and I wonder if you could help me?’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied the nightingale, ‘I am reckoned to be the finest ballad singer in these parts. I certainly haven’t heard a finer.’

  Fox, who did not have a lot of faith in the good sense of songbirds, was not particularly surprised at the empty answer he had received. He decided to have another try.

  ‘I can well believe it,’ he continued. ‘I think some friends of mine might have passed this way recently, and they would certainly have appreciated such music. I wondered if you might have seen them?’

  ‘What do they look like?’ inquired the bird without much interest.

  Fox described the leading members of the party.

  ‘Humph!’ returned the nightingale indignantly. ‘Snakes and toads and such-like have no ear for music. Only birds such as myself can be relied on to judge such things. No, I haven’t seen your reptilian friends.’

  The absurdity of the bird irritated Fox, but he wasted no more time on him, for he had espied the ghostly form of a barn owl flitting from tree to tree. He hurried over as it alighted in the fork of an old ash.

  The owl looked down at him with its huge eyes.

  ‘I’d like a word with you, if you’ve the time,’ Fox called up.

  ‘Certainly,’ came the prompt reply. ‘On what subject?’

  ‘I’m trying to trace my friends,’ said Fox. ‘Have you seen anything of a group of animals travelling through these parts?’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t,’ said the owl. ‘1 don’t seem to see many foxes in the wood these days.’

  ‘Not foxes,’ Fox corrected him. ‘A mixed party of animals – a badger, a mole, a weasel, rabbits, hares, squirrels and so on, all travelling together and accompanied by a tawny owl and a kestrel.’

  ‘Ah! Now I’m with you. No, I haven’t actually seen all of them. But your friend the tawny owl was around . . . oh, a couple of nights ago. I had a conversation with him.’

  ‘Are they all safe?’ Fox asked quickly, suddenly recalling with a jolt that he had no idea what had happened to Badger. ‘Was there a badger with them?’

  ‘Oh yes. Your friend the badger is their leader, is he not?’ replied the owl, who had no reason to assume he was only a deputy. ‘The tawny owl mentioned some mishap, but I think they’re all safe now.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ said Fox. ‘So I am on the right track.’ ‘You’ve all come a long way,’ the owl commented ‘according to your friend. But how did you come to be separated from them?’

  Fox explained.

  ‘I understand.’ The owl nodded, blinking his great eyes. ‘Well, I hope you find each other again. It would be a shame if your adventure failed to end happily.’

  Fox asked the owl if he could give him any idea of the direction the party had taken. The bird shook his head. ‘On that point your owl was not forthcoming,’ he replied, ‘and I imagine that his hesitancy was deliberate. After all, the less their plans are known the safer will be their journey.’

  ‘It’s true our route was known only to one member of the group all along,’ Fox admitted. ‘And, of course, it is better kept that way. But at least I know I’m in their vicinity.’

  ‘I’m sure your sensitive nose will prove more than equal to the task of
discovering them,’ said the owl. ‘Good luck to you.’

  Fox thanked him and, without pausing for words with any of the other denizens of the wood, returned to the earth. Vixen was peacefully asleep.

  21

  Vixen decides

  The morning was warm and sunny when Fox and his new companion left the earth and set off towards the river.

  Their swift pace and alertness helped them to avoid the few humans dotting the riverside that day. In a few hours they had reached the piece of slack water where the Farthing Wood party had swum the river, and where Fox’s troubles had begun.

  Fox, however, now had reason to think differently about his misfortune in the water. Although it had separated him from his old friends, he had found a new one, and he felt grateful to the river for enabling him to meet Vixen.

  His loneliness had disappeared, but he was more anxious than ever to catch up with the other animals. He felt so proud of his beautiful new companion that, for a reason he would not have been able to name, he wanted his friends to meet her and like her.

  As they trotted, nose to tail, along the river bank, Fox felt he wanted only one thing more to make his happiness complete – for Vixen to see him leading the animals into White Deer Park.

  Every now and then he would steal a glance at her, or turn quickly to meet her eye. In the bright sunlight he thought she looked even more beautiful. Her silky fur seemed to glow, and her eyes sparkled with liveliness and intelligence.

  When they reached the crossing-place, Fox bade Vixen keep out of sight while he searched for some clue as to the direction his friends had taken.