Danger in the Deep Dark Woods

by Jennifer Gray

  Kebab Claude shrugged. ‘Ze problem, Thaddeus, is we ’ave eaten all ze chickens in ze area, except for ze ones at Dudley Manor,’ he said.

  ‘Hmm.’ Thaddeus E. Fox turned to Tiny Tony Tiddles. ‘Tony? Have you sniffed out any chickens recently?’

  ‘Nah,’ Tony Tiddles growled. ‘Claude’s right. We’ve already hit all the farms. It’s Dudley Manor or nowhere.’

  ‘What about the town?’ Thaddeus E. Fox asked the Pigeon-Poo Gang. ‘Back gardens. Petting zoos. That kind of thing. You know, urban chickens.’

  ‘Too much competition,’ the leader of the Pigeon-Poo Gang cooed. ‘There are foxes queuing up to eat them. They’re moving into the town in droves.’

  ‘Pity,’ Thaddeus E. Fox snarled. ‘Well, gentlemen, it seems we have no choice. Dudley Manor it is. Obviously it won’t be as easy as before, since the humans have strengthened the wire around the pens. And they might still be on the lookout for us. We’ll have to think outside the coop. Anyone got any ideas?’

  Everyone put their paws up, except the Pigeon-Poo Gang, who put their wings up.

  ‘Good!’ Thaddeus E. Fox licked his lips. ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got. Claude, you go first.’

  ‘I was up at ze Manor zis morning snooping around,’ Claude Kebab said, ‘and I saw a sign for ze country fair. Zere is a competition for ze best chicken …’ Kebab Claude paused to wipe a glob of drool from his chops. ‘Ze chickens will be in a temporary pen in a different part of ze park. It will be easy for zem to get out wizout ze humans noticing.’ He whipped out a spatula. ‘And I was thinking, ’ow about a nice barbecue to tempt zem?’ He told the gang his plan.

  Thaddeus E. Fox nodded approvingly. ‘Very good, Claude. Very good.’ He licked his lips. ‘I’ll take my chicken with extra barbecue sauce.’

  BRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGG!

  On Saturday morning at first light the alarm went off at Chicken HQ.

  Amy groped her way out of bed. ‘It’s Professor Rooster!’ she shouted. ‘He’s on the computer.’ She scuttled across the potting shed to her garden stool, trailing wisps of hay between her toes. ‘Come on, you two!’

  ‘I need to preen my boots!’ Boo complained.

  ‘I can’t find my glasses!’ Ruth said.

  Amy could hear Ruth banging about, knocking into things.

  ‘Good morning, Amy,’ Professor Rooster said. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘Practising Kung Fu,’ Amy lied. ‘They’ll be here in a minute.’ She didn’t want Boo and Ruth to get into trouble with the professor.

  ‘Good.’ Professor Rooster said. ‘Now listen closely. It’s time for your first mission. I’ve received information from my spies in the Deep Dark Woods that Kebab Claude is planning to set up a worm-burger stand at the Dudley Manor Country Fair today. All our chickens will be at the fair, as indeed will many others from across the county.’ The professor spoke sternly. ‘The humans are naive enough to think that Fox and his cronies won’t attack in broad daylight or in their presence, but we know better. Claude’s plan is to lure unsuspecting chickens out of the pen to his worm-burger stand and grill them for his pals at Fox’s burrow. Your mission is to stop him before anyone gets hurt. Good luck.’

  Professor Rooster disappeared.

  Ruth was the first to react. ‘Amy,’ she said, ‘get the flight-booster engines from the gadget cupboard, will you? Oh, and the super-spec headsets.’

  ‘Okay!’ Amy hurried over to the cupboard. Seconds later she returned, wheeling the equipment in a small barrow. ‘Wait,’ she said, ‘shouldn’t we take the mite blaster?’

  ‘Good plan,’ Ruth agreed. ‘We can blast Kebab when he sets up the burger stand. With all that curly fur, he’ll be scratching for weeks! Let’s go.’

  ‘Wait, where’s Boo?’ Amy said.

  ‘I’m in here!’ There was a loud knocking from behind the wall in the chickens’ sleeping quarters. ‘Some idiot pressed the bed-tidy button.’

  ‘That was me,’ Ruth admitted. ‘I was looking for my glasses. Sorry.’

  ‘I’ll get her.’ Amy went to rescue Boo while Ruth got the mite blaster.

  Eventually, after a lot of squawking and flapping, the chickens were ready for action. They donned their super-spec headsets. Then they strapped on the flight-booster engines, dashed out of Chicken HQ and took off into the sky.

  ZOOM! They zipped over the garden wall. The flight-booster engines really worked. Amy didn’t seem to be flapping her wings any harder than usual but she had a hundred times the thrust.

  ‘I wonder what fuel these flight boosters run on,’ Ruth remarked. ‘It seems to be more efficient than poo.’

  ‘There’s the fair,’ Amy shouted. Part of the park was full of colourful stalls. She adjusted her super-spec headset to chicken-finder mode. ‘And that’s where the chicken competition’s going to be held.’ She pointed her wing at a grassy field just beyond the stalls. Some of the chickens were in cages, but most of them, presumably the ones from the coops at Dudley Manor, were pecking about on the grass, fenced in by green wire netting. There were no humans about. They’d all gone off to have breakfast. It was just as Professor Rooster had feared! It was the perfect opportunity for Kebab Claude to strike!

  The chickens landed near the hedge. They took off their flight-booster engines and hid them in some brambles. Then they made their way cautiously along the base of the hedge towards the chicken pen.

  ‘Look! There’s the worm-burger stand!’ Boo pointed to a thicket of bushes a few metres from the far end of the temporary enclosure.

  Amy focused her headset. She couldn’t see Kebab Claude, but the worm-burger stand looked very sophisticated. A feeding trough hung over the side of a wheelbarrow on big iron hooks. On the other side of the wheelbarrow a pack of burger baps, a bulb of garlic, some olive oil, a tub of wriggling worms and a bottle of barbecue sauce rested upon a fold-out counter. Inside the wheelbarrow was the barbecue. Smoke trickled off the sizzling coals through the grill, which consisted of a piece of old chicken wire. It was just the sort of thing most chickens would love, Amy thought. Honestly, if she didn’t know any better, she’d be up there queuing for a worm burger herself!

  Just then Kebab Claude stepped out from behind the thicket. As well as his chef’s hat, the poodle was wearing a sign round his neck that read ‘I’m a chicken’.

  As soon as she saw him, Amy relaxed. ‘No one’s going to fall for that!’ she snorted.

  Just then there was a commotion inside the chicken pen. ‘Look! Worm burgers!’ A group of hungry chicks hopped up to the green wire netting and squeezed through it. The gaps in the netting were bigger than the ones in normal chicken wire.

  ‘Except them,’ Boo said in a frightened voice.

  ‘Oh no!’ Amy gasped. ‘We’ve got to stop them. Ruth, have you got the mite blaster?’

  ‘Check,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Okay, follow me.’ Amy crept towards the burger stand until she was parallel with the thicket of bushes. ‘Pssssst!’ she hissed, trying to get the chicks’ attention.

  The chicks didn’t seem to hear her. They were cheeping noisily about what topping they were going to have on their worm burgers.

  Kebab Claude had got his spatula out. NO! Amy watched in horror as he leaned over the wheelbarrow, flipped the first chick into a bun and threw his hat over the others. He trickled oil over the chick, shoved a clove of garlic in its beak and placed it on the counter. The grill began to sizzle.

  ‘Get ready to fire, Ruth!’ Amy whispered.

  ‘Wait! We’ve got to get the chicks out first!’ Ruth said. ‘We don’t want them to get blasted with mites.’

  Amy was glad Ruth was so clever. She hadn’t thought about that!

  ‘How?’ Boo whispered.

  ‘We need a decoy,’ Ruth said.

  Amy had an idea. ‘I’ll keep Kebab occupied,’ she said, ‘while Boo somersaults over and rescues the chicks. As soon as they’re out of the way, Ruth, you blast him.’

  ‘But, Amy …’ Boo protested.
‘It’s too dangerous.’

  Amy hardly heard her. She scuttled towards the burger stand. ‘Hey, hairy chicken dude,’ she waved. ‘Give me the biggest worm burger you’ve got. With extra beetle-crunch topping.’ She fluffed out her feathers to make herself look plumper.

  Kebab Claude looked up. His greedy eyes grew round. He shoved the chick off the counter. The bun bounced on the ground. The chick tumbled out and scurried under the chef’s hat with his friends.

  ‘’Ow about ze Colossus?’ Kebab Claude’s eyes were fixed on Amy. He reached under the counter and pulled out an enormous bap.

  ‘I’ll take two!’ Amy waddled towards the burger stand.

  ‘Sure!’ Kebab Claude bent down for another bap.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw Boo somersault forwards and dive under the chef’s hat. The hat started to inch slowly away from the burger stand towards Ruth as Boo led the chicks to safety. Amy hopped up on to the counter and pretended to examine the tub of worms. She had to stop Kebab Claude from noticing the hat was moving! Quickly she grabbed the bottle of barbecue sauce and squeezed it hard.

  Kebab Claude stood up. SPLODGE! A shower of red goo caught him in the eye.

  ‘I’ll get you for zat!’ Kebab Claude growled. He reached for the spatula.

  ‘Amy, get out the way!’ Ruth shouted.

  Amy flung herself off the counter.

  WHOOSH!

  A stream of mites hit Kebab Claude in the chest.

  ‘Aaarrrgggh!’ he howled. He staggered out from behind the wheelbarrow.

  WHOOSH!

  Ruth blasted him again.

  Kebab Claude backed away, snarling.

  Ruth raised the mite blaster for the third time.

  ‘Beat it, dog-chops!’ Amy cried.

  With one last hungry look in her direction, Kebab Claude turned and cantered off towards the Deep Dark Woods.

  ‘He’s going!’ Amy cried ecstatically. ‘We did it!’ She flew over to join Boo and Ruth. Ruth dropped the mite blaster on the grass. The three chickens embraced. Just then a tall chicken with smart cream feathers bustled up. ‘Chicks!’ she cried. ‘There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I told you not to go outside the wire netting.’ Her eye fell upon the worm-burger stand. ‘Or eat junk.’ Then it fell upon Amy, Boo and Ruth. ‘Or talk to strangers.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Lacey,’ the chicks hung their heads.

  Amy glanced at Boo and Ruth. Miss Lacey must be the chicks’ teacher. She decided not to tell her about Claude Kebab and the rescue mission. She had a feeling it was probably supposed to be a secret anyway. ‘Are all the chicks from Dudley Manor?’ Amy asked instead.

  ‘Yes,’ the teacher nodded proudly. ‘We run a little school in the chicken pens. It’s called Dudley Coop Academy. We’ve got about thirty at the moment in the juniors and seniors combined. These are our Month 4s.’

  ‘They’re really cute,’ Boo said.

  The teacher chuckled fondly. ‘That’s what you think!’ she said. ‘They’re always up to mischief if you don’t keep an eye on them.’

  ‘What’s this?’ one of the chicks asked.

  Amy turned round. The chick had picked up the mite blaster.

  ‘Er, put that down please,’ said Amy.

  ‘But I want to look at it,’ the chick said.

  ‘You can’t,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Can I see it?’ another chick asked.

  ‘No,’ Amy said.

  The chicks paid no attention. They crowded round their friend, pushing and shoving to get a better look at the gadget.

  ‘How does it work?’ the first one demanded.

  ‘I’m not going to tell you,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Give it to me!’ Amy ordered.

  ‘What does this do?’ the chick fingered the trigger. He lifted the mite blaster and pointed it at the three chickens.

  ‘No, no, no, no, no!’ Amy said.

  ‘You don’t want to do that,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Really you don’t,’ Boo pleaded.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ the chick insisted. He pulled the trigger.

  WHOOSH! A stream of mites accelerated towards Boo, Ruth and Amy.

  Uh-oh! Amy thought as the mites hit her in a big black cloud. The professor’s not going to be too happy about this.

  At his top-secret location somewhere on the Dudley Estate, Professor Emeritus Rooster went through the eyewitness accounts of the Kebab Claude mission again. The professor scratched his comb. He was trying to piece together how his elite combat squad had ended up with acute mite infestation. And how his precious mite blaster had fallen into the mischievous wings of the Month 4s of Dudley Coop Academy. Professor Rooster sighed. His elite combat squad was good, but it wasn’t good enough, whatever Shigong Egg said. It needed sharpening up. It needed, as he had always thought, a professional poultry protector to lead it. Professor Rooster came to a decision. He tapped a few keys on his laptop and spoke into the microphone.

  ‘This is Professor Rooster,’ he said. ‘Is that Poultry Patrol?’

  ‘Yes,’ a voice came back. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘I’m looking for a professional poultry protector,’ Professor Rooster said. ‘A bird who can lead a team.’

  ‘All our bird agents are highly experienced professionals,’ the voice came back. ‘They won’t let you down.’

  ‘Good,’ Professor Rooster said. ‘Send me the best agent you’ve got. As soon as possible.’

  ‘What are we going to tell the professor?’ Boo asked.

  The three chickens lay on their beds at Chicken HQ swathed in cotton wool soaked with anti-itch cream. They made a sorry picture. The cream was oily. It dripped off their feathers on to the hay. Amy felt as if she’d just been seasoned by Kebab Claude and stuck in a cotton-wool burger bap.

  ‘How about we say the mite blaster went off by accident?’ Amy suggested. ‘He won’t know.’

  ‘I’m not sure if he’ll believe us,’ Ruth said doubtfully. ‘I mean, it was working fine before.’

  ‘Do you think he’s got an antidote for mite infestation?’ Boo moaned. ‘My boots itch.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Amy said. ‘Look, he’s on the computer.’

  The screen fizzled. Professor Rooster’s stern face appeared.

  The chickens struggled out of bed and hobbled over to the cardboard box.

  Professor Rooster glared at them. He didn’t speak.

  Amy coughed. ‘Er … about the mite blaster, Professor Rooster,’ she began.

  ‘Before you say anything,’ Professor Rooster interrupted, ‘I have read a number of eyewitness accounts of the Kebab mission. So don’t think about telling any fibs.’

  Amy stared at her toes. She didn’t dare look at Boo and Ruth. She wished she hadn’t suggested telling the professor that the mite blaster went off by accident. She should have known he would already have investigated what had happened.

  ‘I admit you showed courage, intelligence and perseverance when you rescued the chicks from Kebab Claude’s clutches,’ the professor continued in a softer voice. ‘But it should never have got to that stage: one of them was only seconds away from getting fried.’ He paused. ‘And as for letting the Month 4s pick up the mite blaster, that was just plain dumb.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Amy said.

  ‘That was my fault,’ Ruth admitted. ‘I dropped it.’

  ‘We wanted a hug,’ Boo explained.

  ‘A hug …’ Professor Rooster let the word hang in the air. ‘That’s all very sweet but a hug is not going to defeat our enemies. What if Tiddles had been there? Or Fox? They would have eaten you before you could say boiled egg.’ He shook his head. ‘You may have squeaked through against Kebab Claude, but you’re definitely not ready for Fox. Which is why I’ve employed a fourth member of the squad,’ the professor concluded, ‘to keep an eye on you and make sure there are no more cluck-ups.’ He assumed his stern expression. ‘Thaddeus E. Fox and his gang may strike again at any time. They want chicken and they’ll do anything to
get it. I need a team I can rely on. Your new team leader will be with you shortly. Make sure you do as he tells you. He’s a professional: one of the best. He comes with the highest recommendations. He’ll give you some action points to work on.’

  The screen fizzled. Professor Rooster disappeared.

  The first potting-shed door flew open.

  The chickens twisted awkwardly on their stools to get a look at the newcomer.

  The fourth member of the squad strolled in. He was a large mallard duck wearing a crisp bow tie. ‘My name’s Pond, James Pond,’ he said. ‘I’m from Poultry Patrol. I gather you hens need some help.’

  Amy stared at him, speechless. I gather you hens need some help?! Who did he think he was? They didn’t need help. Well, maybe just a little bit. But not from some stuck-up duck like James Pond. ‘What’s Poultry Patrol anyway?’ she asked defensively.

  ‘It’s a secret organisation dedicated to the protection of poultry,’ James Pond told her. ‘It accepts only the best birds as agents: the ones with razor-sharp brains, fabulous fighting skills, and super-smooth feathers suitable for long-distance swimming and flying. Like me,’ he added.

  ‘Yeah, we get it,’ Amy said rudely. James Pond was the worst show-off she’d ever met. She felt like she had to retaliate. ‘We trained at the International School of Kung Fu for Poultry, in case you didn’t know,’ she boasted.

  ‘I did know,’ James Pond responded sharply. ‘It’s my business to know everything. I also know that you can’t do Kung Fu because your legs are too short; that Ruth makes rotten-egg stink bombs out of cardboard tubes and fart gas, and that Boo is good at gymnastics but a scaredy-hen when it comes to fighting.’

  ‘How do you know all that?’ Amy gasped.

  ‘I’ve read the file. Like I say: you hens need help. That’s why the prof hired me: so that you do what I tell you. That way we might stand a chance against the bad guys. Get it?’

  The chickens said nothing. Boo shuffled her feet. Ruth made a little humming noise. Amy puffed out her tummy feathers. It was all she could do to stop herself performing the feather dusty on their new team leader.