‘Ah, come on, old man,’ Snooty Bush pleaded. ‘Stop mucking about. I’ve got something to tell you. It’s important.’
‘Oh, very well!’ Thaddeus rose from his bed, pulled a grubby dressing gown around his shoulders and shuffled towards the door. He unbolted it top and bottom and turned the handle. The door creaked open.
Snooty Bush stood on the doorstep of the burrow looking as jaunty as ever. He was wearing the traditional Eat’em College for Gentlemen Foxes’ uniform – top hat, a jacket with tails and a smart waistcoat. His face registered shock when he saw Thaddeus’s scruffy appearance. ‘Blimey!’ he exclaimed. ‘What happened to you?’
‘It’s a long story.’ Thaddeus said.
‘I’d better come in then so you can tell me.’
Before Thaddeus could stop him, Snooty Bush had pushed past him into the burrow. Thaddeus closed the door with a sigh.
‘Well?’ Snooty Bush said, looking round the burrow in distaste. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’
Thaddeus followed his eye. The burrow did look a bit of a mess he had to admit. The floor was covered in crumbs, the larder was empty, dirty dishes soaked in a sink full of filthy washing-up water, and a rancid smell came from the direction of the toilet. He realised with a jolt of shame that Snooty Bush must think he’d turned into a complete slob. ‘It’s the chickens’ fault,’ he said sulkily.
‘What chickens?’
Thaddeus remembered that the last time he saw Snooty Bush was just before the MOST WANTED Club’s first defeat at the wings of Professor Rooster’s elite chicken squad at the Eat’em College Annual Dinner. He told Snooty Bush what happened after he had left.
‘You got dowsed in custard?’ Snooty Bush said incredulously.
Thaddeus nodded. ‘And blasted with mites.’
‘That must have been itchy!’ Snooty Bush shook his head in sympathy.
‘It was, especially as the mites seemed to be attracted to the custard,’ Thaddeus recalled, with a shudder. ‘The second time was even worse, though.’
‘The second time?’
Thaddeus told him about that too. ‘Have you ever had cowpat in your whiskers? Or up your nose?’ he whispered.
‘Can’t say I have,’ Snooty Bush murmured.
Thaddeus’s shoulders started to shake. In spite of his misgivings about Snooty Bush, it felt good to talk to someone: he’d been cooped up in the burrow by himself managing on leftovers for so long now that he couldn’t actually remember when it was he’d last seen another animal’s face.
‘It’s all right, old man,’ Snooty Bush said soothingly. ‘You can trust me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.’
‘I’m scared to go out in case they attack again!’ Thaddeus confessed. ‘Me! Thaddeus E. Fox, the MOST WANTED villain in the MOST WANTED Club. Scared of three kid chickens!’ He shook his head sorrowfully.
Snooty Bush patted him on the shoulder. ‘What happened to the other villains?’ he asked.
‘They ditched me,’ sobbed Thaddeus. Now that he’d started his confession, he couldn’t stop. ‘Tiny Tony Tiddles – the cat with the hat – he said I was all washed up. He left to join a gang of farm cats.’
‘That’s awful.’
Thaddeus nodded. ‘Remember Kebab Claude, the poodle?’
‘The one who was good at barbecues?’
‘Yes, well he said he didn’t want to hang out with me any more. He found a home with a butcher who makes his own sausages.’
‘Handy for him, I suppose,’ said Snooty Bush tactfully. ‘What about the Pigeon Poo Gang?’
‘They decided to go it alone! Last I heard they were hanging about the local porridge factory, trying to raid packets of oats.’
‘I see.’
‘They don’t need me any more!’ Thaddeus howled. ‘They think I’m useless at being a villain.’
‘There, there.’ Snooty Bush fished inside his waistcoat and handed Thaddeus a red cotton handkerchief.
Thaddeus blew on it loudly. ‘Thanks,’ he said gruffly.
‘Look, old man. You and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but we’re both Old Eat’emians and Old Eat’emians stick together,’ Snooty Bush said firmly.
‘I suppose …’ Thaddeus agreed glumly.
‘What you need is a change of scene,’ Snooty Bush declared. ‘Get your confidence back. Then, when you’re feeling better, you can start up the MOST WANTED Club again and catch those beastly chickens.’ He leaned forward. ‘Talking of which, that reminds me what I came to see you about.’
‘What was that, then?’ Thaddeus was beginning to feel a bit better. It was good to get things off his chest.
‘Remember I moved to the city a little while back?’ Snooty Bush said.
‘Yes.’ Thaddeus was listening keenly.
‘It’s great fun – such a happening place. A real melting pot. And there are loads of chickens.’ Snooty Bush snorted. ‘The humans keep them in their gardens!’
Thaddeus pricked up his ears. Now that sounded interesting. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Well this year the Society of Enterprising Foxes is holding its Annual Convention at Cluckbridge.’
‘So?’
‘The Society encourages foxes to think big,’ Snooty Bush explained, ‘especially when it comes to catching chicken. Look at this.’ Snooty Bush fumbled in his other pocket and removed a piece of paper, which he placed on the table. He smoothed it out with a paw.
You are warmly invited to
The Society of Enterprising Foxes Annual
Convention and Dinner
At Cluckbridge City Railway Depot
Drinks!
Chicken Dinner!
Speeches!
Foxy Singsong!
Surprise Guest!
PS: Please note that in celebration of the Society’s tenth anniversary, this year’s Convention will include a prize for the most enterprising fox. All devious plans on how to catch the most chickens should be submitted to the Chairfox by Thursday.
‘What’s the prize?’ Thaddeus’s yellow eyes had assumed some of their old cunning. When it came to catching chickens, he was ace at devious plans. (Well, he used to be before Professor Rooster’s elite chicken squad started spoiling everything.)
‘If you win, the Society helps put your plan into practice,’ said Snooty Bush. He leaned forward. ‘Think about it, Thaddeus, it’s a huge opportunity. Instead of catching the odd chicken here and there, there’d be a whole machine behind us with all the fox-power we need to turn our devious plan into a proper business. And I’ve had an idea.’
‘What?’ Thaddeus demanded. The thought of catching chickens had got his juices flowing.
‘We could run a chicken farm! Right there in the city,’ Snooty Bush said excitedly.
‘A chicken farm?’ Thaddeus echoed.
‘Yes! Think about it. We’ll be rich! Our loyal customers will steal anything we ask for from the humans: diamonds, feather cushions, toothpaste, Stilton cheese – you name it! All we need to do is to come up with a plan of how to make it work; the Society will help us put it into action. Come on, Thaddeus,’ Snooty Bush urged. ‘Say you’ll do it! Say you’ll be my partner.’
Thaddeus E. Fox was thinking hard. A chicken farm?! It was a brilliant idea. If they could catch enough chickens and find somewhere to hide them out of sight of the humans. Thaddeus E. Fox grinned. Of course they could! His confidence had returned. He was certain he’d come up with a suitably devious plan once he got away from the Deep Dark Woods to the bright lights of Cluckbridge.
‘All right!’ he agreed. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal!’
The albatross flew over Cluckbridge.
Amy had never seen anything like it. The city was crowded with buildings. Its streets were full of shops and houses at one end and skyscrapers at the other. Cars whizzed up and down the busy roads. Humans hurried along the pavements. A river meandered through the city’s heart. Trains thundered across it on steel bridges, while long boats carrying big containers pu
ttered up and down its length.
The albatross flew lower.
‘There’s the City Zoo,’ Ruth said, pointing it out.
Amy pulled her super-spec headset down over her eyes so that she could zoom in for a better view. The City Zoo was beside a big park, north of the river. Iron railings ran around the edge. Inside the railings the animals were housed in a mixture of old brick buildings and outdoor enclosures decorated with rocks and trees.
Amy spotted a lion standing on a rock. She gasped. She had only ever seen a lion in pictures before. If Cleopatra was scarier than that, she didn’t know what they’d do!
The albatross flew on away from the bustling city centre to where tall, thin houses fronted onto the streets. There were no gaps between the houses, but they had long oblong gardens at the back, separated by wooden fences. Amy was excited to see that a few of them contained chicken coops.
The albatross swooped low over one garden fence and landed with a bump in a vegetable patch amongst some runner beans.
‘Sorry about that,’ the albatross apologised. ‘There’s not much of a runway to work with. Remember to take all your luggage with you.’
‘We will.’ Amy hoisted the Emergency Chicken Pack over one wing. ‘Thanks for the ride.’ The three chickens slid off the albatross clutching their suitcases, their backpacks on their shoulders.
They picked their way through the runner bean canes towards the chicken coop. The coop was at the bottom of the garden under an apple tree on a patch of bare ground. It was ringed with two loops of chicken wire.
‘Boo!’ a voice cried. A smart chicken scuttled out from behind the apple tree, where several chickens were admiring the blossom, and trotted towards the gate. She looked very much like Boo, except that she had thick cream feathers instead of thick honey-coloured ones.
‘Aunt Mildred!’ Boo threw down her luggage and ran towards her aunt.
‘How lovely to see you, dear!’ Aunt Mildred said. ‘And your friends. Hang on a minute while I let you in.’
Aunt Mildred began to untwist a loop of chicken wire with her beak. ‘Wait, I’ll have to go and get the pliers,’ she said.
Amy puffed out her cheeks. It would take them all day to get in at this rate, even with pliers! ‘Why don’t we use the flight-booster engines?’ she suggested.
‘Good idea,’ Ruth agreed.
The three chickens strapped themselves into the machines and helicoptered over the fence.
Aunt Mildred was amazed. ‘How fantastic!’ she said. ‘We could do with some of those to get about. I don’t suppose you’ve got any spare, have you?’
‘I’m afraid not, Aunt Mildred,’ Boo replied.
Aunt Mildred sighed. ‘It used to be so easy here to visit friends. We’d just squeeze under the garden fence and off we’d go, but these days this place is like a prison.’
Aunt Mildred gave Boo a big hug and shook wings with Ruth and Amy.
‘I don’t remember the security being this tight before,’ Boo observed. ‘When did the humans put up chicken wire?’
Aunt Mildred shook her head sorrowfully and said, ‘When the foxes appeared in Cluckbridge. Honestly, Boo, the city isn’t a safe place to be a chicken any more.’
‘Where do the foxes live?’ asked Boo.
Aunt Mildred shrugged. ‘Who knows? Wherever they live, there are certainly plenty of them. We chickens barely ever get together any more. And we used to have such brilliant street parties in the old days.’
‘Why don’t the humans get rid of them?’ asked Amy. ‘The farmer at the farm where I used to live scared them away with a gun.’
‘They’re not allowed to do that here. The city’s not at all like the country.’ Aunt Mildred gave a little shudder. ‘Foxes are a real problem. So are the rats.’
‘Rats!’ Amy echoed. She had no idea the city was such a dangerous place to live. ‘I didn’t know you had rats.’
‘They’re everywhere,’ said Aunt Mildred. ‘I reckon you can’t go ten metres in Cluckbridge without being close to a rat. They’re not as bold as the foxes but they’re there, all right. They sneak in and take our eggs when we’re not looking. Most of them hang out in the sewers, where it’s smelly.’
‘Yuk,’ said Amy.
‘But then you three won’t be scared of a few rats and the odd fox or two after your adventures!’ Aunt Mildred’s face brightened. ‘Now come in. I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to.’
The three chickens followed her up the wooden ramp into the coop.
It was the cleanest, tidiest coop Amy had ever seen in her life. On one wall hung two large roosting boxes – one above the other – full of fresh-scented hay, with a little set of steps for the chickens to climb up and down. Beneath the roosting boxes was a food trough stuffed with mealworm and a clean bowl of water in case the chickens felt thirsty. Tucked away discreetly in the opposite corner was a nesting place in a recess.
‘That’s where we go to lay eggs,’ Aunt Mildred explained, when she saw Amy looking at it. ‘You can use it if you like.’
‘Thank you,’ Amy said politely. She still hadn’t laid her first egg, mainly because she’d been too busy having adventures, but she really wanted to. And the nesting place looked the ideal spot to do it.
‘How’s the collection coming on?’ asked Boo.
‘Wonderfully well, thank you!’ Aunt Mildred said. She saw the look of perplexity on Amy and Ruth’s faces. ‘The humans treat us as pets,’ Aunt Mildred said. ‘They give us all sorts of interesting things to play with when they’re away at work. At weekends they even let us roam inside the house. They think it’s amusing when we pick up bits and pieces around the place. Usually they let us keep them. They don’t realise what we use them for!’
Aunt Mildred opened a cupboard.
Amy gasped. Inside the cupboard were all sorts of wonderful things. She glimpsed shiny tin foil, a nailbrush, a bell, long loops of colourful wool, knitting needles, ribbon, a box of tacks, stamps, pencils, paper, a book of Sudoku, a toolkit, a selection of badges, some Lego bricks, an assortment of Scrabble tiles, an alarm clock and a few tablets of soap.
‘Do you have any more books?’ asked Ruth hopefully, leafing through the puzzle book.
Amy glanced over Ruth’s shoulder. Most of the puzzles had been completed. Amy thought Aunt Mildred and her friends must be very brainy.
‘Oh yes,’ Aunt Mildred said. She scratched some straw away from the floor of the coop and pulled at a floorboard. ‘We keep them in the library in case the humans suspect anything.’
The library?! Amy peered down. Beneath the floorboards books were stacked upright in neat piles with little walkways between them so that you could see the spines. ‘Where do you get the books from?’ she asked in bewilderment. She didn’t think even Professor Rooster would have as many books as that in his secret hideout on the Dudley Estate.
Aunt Mildred shrugged. ‘This is just a fraction of what the humans throw away. They leave them outside in a cardboard box for recycling. It’s just a matter of choosing which ones we haven’t read yet. We’ve got a radio too,’ she said proudly. ‘It picks up the Bird Broadcasting Corporation. We get most channels, although we mainly listen to the news. That’s how we’ve been following what you three have been up to.’
‘Cool!’ said Amy. ‘Er … you don’t happen to have an Eggs-Box do you?’ Books weren’t really her thing; nor was the radio for that matter. She preferred playing computer games, especially Chicken World Wrestling 3.
‘Not in the coop,’ Aunt Mildred said. ‘There’s one in the house, though. You could have a go at the weekend when the humans aren’t looking.’
The mention of the weekend checked Amy’s enthusiasm. She wondered dismally if she would be alive by then. They still had Cleopatra to catch.
‘Oh!’ Boo exclaimed. ‘You’ve kept all my old gymnastics equipment!’
Amy glanced over. Stuffed into another cupboard were a stack of plastic plant pots, a selection of forked sticks, a roll
of foam and several pieces of bamboo pole.
‘Please set it up,’ Amy begged her. ‘I’d love to see you do gymnastics properly.’
‘Yes, go on, Boo,’ Ruth urged.
‘I’ll bet you’ve improved a lot since you were last at home,’ Aunt Mildred smiled.
But Boo shook her head. ‘Maybe later.’ She took hold of Aunt Mildred’s wing and steered her towards a little table.
Amy and Ruth followed. The four chickens sat down.
‘The thing is, Aunt Mildred, we’re not actually here on holiday any more. We’re here on a mission.’
‘Ah,’ said Aunt Mildred, her face serious. ‘It’s to do with Cleopatra, isn’t it?’
‘I heard about Cleopatra’s escape on the radio,’ Aunt Mildred said. ‘I was so worried when I heard the news, especially after what happened to your poor dear mother, Boo.’
Amy and Ruth exchanged glances.
Was that why Boo had been so upset when Professor Rooster told them about the mission? Was it something to do with her mother? They waited.
‘The others don’t know, Aunt Mildred,’ Boo said.
‘I think you’d better tell them, dear, don’t you?’ Aunt Mildred said quietly.
Boo nodded. She took a deep breath and turned to Amy and Ruth. ‘Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but my mother, Aunt Mildred and me, well, believe it or not, we’re ex-bats.’
‘You used to be bats?’ Amy asked. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘No, Amy,’ Ruth said. ‘That’s not what Boo means. A “bat” is a short name for a battery hen. An ex-bat is a hen that used to be one.’
‘Oh,’ said Amy. Amy knew what a battery hen was. All chickens did. It was the one thing they feared becoming more than anything else. Battery hens were forced to live in cramped cages in dark warehouses, laying egg after egg after egg and never ever going outside once in their whole entire lives. Amy was a free-range chicken, which meant when she was growing up at Perrin’s Farm she had mainly lived outside in the farmyard or played in the barn with her friends. But she had often heard her parents remark in low voices how lucky they were compared to battery hens. She could hardly believe that Boo had been one.
Chicken Mission: Chaos in Cluckbridge Page 2
