The Farthing Wood Collection 1

by Colin Dann

  ‘But this is Toad’s home now,’ said Squirrel. ‘He led us here. His old home no longer exists. How can he have forgotten all that?’

  ‘I think he can’t help himself,’ observed Kestrel. ‘It’s his homing instinct. In the Spring it’s like an irresistible urge that draws Toad and creatures like him back to their birthplace to spawn and reproduce themselves. And Toad’s birthplace was Farthing Pond.’

  ‘It’s quite true,’ agreed Tawny Owl. ‘None of us can forget when, on our journey here, Toad started doubling back because the pull of his old home was still so strong.’

  ‘Well, he can’t have gone far,’ said Fox. ‘Not in two days. We must find him and reason with him.’

  ‘No time like the present,’ said Badger. ‘He may not even have left the Reserve yet.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can spot him,’ Kestrel offered. ‘But his camouflage is so good it might be difficult.’

  ‘There’s no need for us all to go,’ said Fox. ‘That would only delay things. Badger and I will go with Vixen and, Whistler, perhaps you can assist Kestrel in the search?’

  ‘I shall be delighted to do anything in my power,’ said the heron, flapping his wings and making his familiar whistling noise.

  ‘We’ll visit you again, Adder,’ Fox told the still motionless snake. ‘I hope by then our party will be complete.’

  ‘You can visit if you wish,’ replied Adder. ‘But I can’t guarantee to be in the same spot. I have other things to do apart from lying around here waiting for your return.’

  ‘Ungracious as ever,’ said Tawny Owl loudly, but Adder was quite used to such remarks and only flicked his forked tongue in and out in a derogatory manner.

  While the other animals dispersed, the two foxes and Badger trotted off in the direction of the Hollow. It was here they had all spent their first night on arriving in White Deer Park, and it was close to the hole in the fence through which they had first entered. Fox was quite sure Toad would be travelling on the same route if he had, indeed, intended to leave the Reserve.

  Fox and Vixen skirted the Hollow while Badger entered it to make quite certain Toad was not safely there, all the time waiting for his friends at the traditional meeting-point. But he was not, and when they arrived at the boundary on this side of the Park they found Kestrel waiting for them.

  ‘No sign as yet,’ he announced. ‘I think he must be outside.’

  ‘What a nuisance he is,’ said Badger. ‘Now we’ll all be exposing ourselves to risk on his behalf.’

  ‘It’s obvious we can’t stay together outside the Park,’ said Fox. ‘We shall be far too conspicuous. But he can’t possibly be far away, travelling at his pace. Kestrel, can you scout around in the immediate area for a bit? He may only be a matter of a few paces away.’

  But when Kestrel alighted again the answer was the same. Whistler, too, had had no luck. ‘There seems to be a distinct dearth of toads in the area,’ he informed them in his droll way.

  ‘There’s nothing for it, then,’ said Fox, ‘but that we’ll have to go through the fence. We’ll split up and try a separate patch each.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be wiser for you to leave it until nightfall?’ suggested Kestrel.

  ‘Safer, yes,’ admitted Fox. ‘But more difficult. Toad is a small animal and would be even harder to locate in the dark.’

  ‘We’ll keep our eyes open for you all, then,’ said Kestrel. ‘And we can warn you if necessary.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Fox. ‘Well, Vixen, Badger, shall we go?’

  The three animals passed singly through the broken fence and Fox allotted them each their areas. ‘If you find him,’ he said to them, ‘make the birds understand and they can round up the other two of us.’

  So they each went their different ways, using sight and scent in their search.

  It was Vixen in the end who found their lost friend. Perhaps half a mile from where she left the Park a narrow and normally shallow little brook ran bubbling across country. On its banks sat two small boys watching the water – now swollen by the thaw – run gurgling past them. Occasionally they would dip their nets into the stream, for they were collecting sticklebacks and water-bugs and anything else that came along. By their side on the bank were some big jars full of water into which they were emptying their nets whenever they caught a new specimen. All this Vixen saw as she approached as close as she could before having to hide herself among some gorse scrub. From this vantage point she could watch securely and see everything. What she saw in one of the jars made her heart skip a beat. For it was a toad, and she knew that, as likely as not, it was her toad. But then she was not so sure, for another of the jars also contained a toad, and this one was considerably larger than the other.

  The two poor entombed creatures were jumping up and down in the water inside the jars, banging their blunt noses against the glass in frenzied and utterly useless attempts to escape. Their exit was firmly sealed by metal lids. Now Vixen was in a dilemma. For there was nothing she could do to free the toads. Yet she knew she must prevent the boys taking the jars away with them before she knew if her friend was one of the captives. She certainly needed Fox’s advice and as quickly as possible, because the boys might choose to leave at any time.

  From the safety of the gorse-bushes she barked, hoping one of the birds might be close. She saw the boys look up at the noise, and peer all about them. But they could see nothing, and soon turned their attention to the stream again.

  Neither Kestrel nor Whistler heard Vixen’s call, but Whistler had seen the stream and the boys while on the wing and now came looking for the three animals to warn them of the presence of humans. Luckily, as Vixen was closest, he found her first.

  ‘I’ve seen them,’ she nodded as he landed awkwardly beside her. ‘And I think I’ve seen Toad.’

  ‘Perfect!’ cried the heron. ‘Then we can collect him and make a hasty retreat.’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that, I’m afraid, Whistler,’ she answered, and explained what was in the glass jars.

  ‘How awful! Whatever can we do?’ he boomed.

  ‘I don’t know. But you must bring Fox. He’ll think of something. And tell Badger, too.’

  ‘At once,’ said the heron and flapped noisily into flight again. Vixen shuddered as she saw his huge form rise above her, immediately catching the attention of the two fascinated little humans who began to point and chatter excitedly. Fortunately, however, they did not move from the stream bank.

  Fox and Badger came quietly and cautiously to join Vixen behind her prickly screen. They listened to her news.

  ‘Of course it may not be Toad,’ said Fox, ‘but, naturally, we can’t take the chance.’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Badger anxiously. ‘Poor creatures. This is just the same way he was captured in Farthing Pond and brought all this way from his home.’

  ‘A blessing in disguise, as it turned out,’ Fox reminded him. ‘Otherwise there would have been no White Deer Park for us.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Badger nodded. ‘But it is no blessing this time.’

  ‘Well, there’s only one thing to do,’ declared Fox resolutely. ‘We must rescue both these toads.’

  ‘Of course. But how?’

  ‘We’ll take the captors by surprise. They’re young. They may scare easily. If we all rush on them together, barking and snarling, they may run. To take them by surprise is our only hope. Hallo, here’s Kestrel!’

  Whistler had also informed Kestrel of developments. No sooner had he heard than the hawk had flown close to the brook, hovering as he examined the jars’ contents with his phenomenal eye power. He came swooping up to the three animals. ‘One of them is Toad all right,’ he screeched. ‘The smaller one.’

  ‘Get Whistler back here,’ Fox ordered peremptorily. ‘I have need of his great bill.’

  The heron came wheeling low to listen to the plan.

  ‘As we make our charge you must sail in and snatch the jar up in your bill. Make sure it’s the one wit
h the smaller of the two toads inside,’ Fox told him. ‘Right, all ready? Together then!’

  Across the grass hurtled Fox, Badger and Vixen making the utmost racket possible. The two boys jumped up, uncertain what to do. As they hesitated Whistler soared over and plummeted downward like a dive bomber. Barely giving himself time to land, he snatched at a jar and lumbered away, surprised at the object’s weight. The boys seized the other jars, including the one containing the second toad, and made off along the bank, leaving their nets behind as the fierce animals approached them. Then Fox, Badger and Vixen heard Kestrel screaming at Whistler in the air. ‘It’s the wrong jar! You’ve got the wrong one!’

  Partly in alarm and partly because his bill was already aching dreadfully at the unaccustomed weight, Whistler let go of the jar, which crashed to the ground and instantly shattered. Out jumped the strange toad, none the worse for the experience, having been buoyed up by the water. ‘Thank you! Thank you!’ it called in its croaky voice and began to hop away as fast as its legs could carry it.

  Now Whistler felt he must atone for his error. He came sailing back after the frightened boys and stabbed at them with his pointed beak, with the idea of making them drop Toad. So vicious were his attacks that this ploy met with quick success. All the jars were dropped by the shrieking boys, the one carrying Toad rolling down the bank and landing with a plop in the stream. There it was buffeted and swept along by the current, the jar pivoting end to end as it spun away.

  Inside the jar Toad was stunned, dazed, stupefied. One minute the jar had been standing on end on the bank, then it had been grabbed up in the air and he had bobbed up and down while the boy ran with it; then it had fallen with a thud to the ground, rolled over and over and now was racing along on the water, the reeds and rushes shooting past on either side of his clear glass prison. He did not know that any of his friends were involved in the events, for all had happened too quickly. The next thing he knew the jar came to rest against a submerged barrier in the water. He looked out of the glass and saw two stilt-like legs pressed against the side. Then down came a huge beak and Toad, jar and all, was hoisted up, higher and higher and higher still into the sky.

  ‘Don’t drop him!’ shouted Fox. ‘Carry him to the Park!’

  ‘And back to the Park with us!’ cried Badger. ‘The party is complete!’

  Once safely inside the Park fence again, the five friends made for the Hollow. Whistler carefully deposited the jar on the ground and they all stood looking at it. By now Toad had recognized the faces and was leaping about desperately.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ Kestrel queried. Whistler was resting his aching beak and was unable to speak. The three animals stared at Toad and frowned. Toad settled down and stared back.

  Eventually Whistler said, ‘The other toad came to no harm when I dropped it. May I suggest a repeat performance?’

  Fox shook his head. ‘No. We can’t risk it. The other toad was lucky not to have been cut by the glass. But it may not be such a lucky drop again.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid if that lid doesn’t come off soon, Toad might suffocate,’ Badger said worriedly. ‘We don’t know how long he’s been in there.’

  ‘What if we found a large stone and dropped it on the jar?’ Kestrel suggested.

  ‘Who could carry such a stone?’ Fox asked. ‘And it would be even more dangerous for Toad inside.’

  ‘I think there’s only one way he’ll get out of there,’ Vixen said.

  ‘Well, Vixen, what is it?’ Fox asked quickly.

  ‘The Warden,’ she replied.

  ‘Bravo!’ cried Badger. ‘We’ll take the jar to him. He can open it.’

  ‘Well, Counsellor, you’ve done it again,’ Fox smiled at her. ‘Whistler, are you up to portering a little further?’

  ‘The heart is always willing, my dear Fox. But my poor bill does the carrying,’ he answered. ‘However, if it’s a case of life and death ….’

  ‘I’m afraid it is,’ said Fox. ‘We’ll meet you at the cottage.’

  So once again the baffled and desperate Toad was hoisted into the air, and once again the ground rushed away from beneath him. The next time he was set down he was terrified to see a cat’s face come and peer at him, and he became more frantic than ever. Whistler stood by the side of the jar enigmatically. His large size made him quite fearless of the Warden’s pet. He knew Fox, Badger and Vixen would be a long time arriving for, even without snow on the ground, the journey was a considerable one. Kestrel discreetly stayed well out of the way.

  ‘Whatever have you got here?’ Ginger Cat whispered, prowling all round the container.

  ‘An old friend of mine,’ answered Whistler, ‘who’s got himself into a spot of bother.’

  ‘He has, hasn’t he? He won’t get out of there very easily.’

  ‘Not on his own, no. Is your master within?’

  ‘I have no –’ Ginger Cat began, then shrugged. ‘I believe so,’ he finished. ‘I see now. You want his assistance. Bring that object outside the door, and I’ll try to attract his attention.’

  Whistler complied, and Ginger Cat commenced an almighty howling outside the cottage door. There was no response. ‘I’ll have to fetch him,’ he said, and squeezed through the cat flap. Whistler heard more miaowing and wailing going on inside and then, at last, the door opened. Ginger Cat stepped daintily out, followed by a puzzled Warden.

  The man looked down and saw a sedentary heron guarding a large glass jar with something inside it. He did not know what to make of such a sight. Whistler decided to give him a clue. ‘Kraaank,’ he cried raucously, and pushed the jar towards the man’s feet. The man bent and picked up the jar and saw the toad inside. Whistler snapped his bill excitedly, producing a sound like a Castanet. The man looked at him and looked back at the jar. He knew herons ate creatures like frogs and could only surmise it had discovered this titbit and could not get at it. He unscrewed the lid and gently tipped Toad out, intending to save him from the two predators at hand. But before he could pick up the small creature, Toad leapt away as fast as he could, making for cover.

  Ginger Cat saw the movement and made as if to pounce. But Whistler forestalled him. ‘Leave it all to me, Toad, my friend,’ he said and carefully lowered his beak. The Warden watched enthralled as the heron, instead of gobbling the morsel straight down its gullet as he had expected, gently took it up and flew away into the centre of the Park.

  Fox, Badger and Vixen saw Whistler coming, carrying Toad, and ceased to run. Then they made a circle round Toad as he put his feet hesitantly on the ground, and gave him encouraging licks.

  ‘Dear old Toad,’ said Badger, almost overcome. ‘What an adventure you’ve had! Oh, it’s good to have you safe with us.’

  ‘Thank you, Badger, thank you,’ said Toad. ‘And, Whistler, thank you most of all. I never thought I would see any of you again.’

  ‘Why did you do it? Why did you leave the Park?’ Fox asked. ‘We came looking for you this morning at the Pond and Adder said you had gone.’

  ‘I just can’t stop myself, Fox,’ Toad answered. ‘I know it’s silly, but in the spring I feel I have to go home. I seem to lose all control over myself. It’s like being taken over by some kind of Power, much greater and stronger than I am.’

  ‘But this is your home now,’ said Badger. ‘There is no other home for you. Your birthplace no longer exists.’

  ‘I know. I know it. But I have to go.’

  ‘Well, you see what happens when you stray outside the safety of the Reserve,’ Fox admonished him. ‘You’re lucky to be back here.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you think I know it? You’re all so sensible. Everything you say is true. You’ll have to restrain me.’

  ‘Perhaps we should have kept you in the jar until you can see sense,’ Badger said and laughed.

  ‘If only Adder had been awake when I woke,’ Toad said, ‘he might have dissuaded me. Oh, it’s wonderful to see you all. Where are the others? Are they all right?’

  ‘Not
all of them,’ Vixen said quietly. ‘It was a cruel winter, Toad. Some of your friends are no longer around to welcome you back.’

  ‘But – but – surely –’ he stammered, ‘there are – more – than just – you four?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Fox said reassuringly. ‘You’ve already seen Kestrel. And there’s Mole and Hare and his family – well, less one actually – and most of the rabbits and squirrels and Weasel, of course. And Tawny Owl – he’s indestructible.’

  ‘And all the mice?’

  ‘Er – no, not all. Well, not many, really. They took it the hardest.’

  ‘The hedgehogs?’

  ‘Yes, yes, the hedgehogs are all right. They slept through it all, just like you and Adder.’

  ‘And then, Toad, off you were going to go without even coming to see if we were still alive?’ Badger said pointedly.

  ‘Oh, Badger! I feel so guilty,’ said the wretched animal. ‘How could I? Never to know what you’ve all suffered!’

  His friends fell silent as they watched Toad’s anguish.

  Badger, compassionate as always, spoke first. ‘What can we do to help?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ croaked Toad miserably. ‘Except not to let me out of your sight – at least until the mating season’s over.’

  ‘Well, well, perhaps we can keep shifts,’ Badger said jokingly.

  ‘We’ve a lot more to tell you about our months without you,’ said Fox. ‘And Adder hasn’t heard the tale yet. You’ll both want to meet up with all the others again, won’t you? I think we should all meet in the Hollow just like we used to. We haven’t all been together since last autumn.’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ agreed Badger. ‘We must pass the word. Er – Toad, I want you to stay with me for the time being. For safety’s sake, you know. Would you care to climb on my back?’

  While his friends had been thus occupied, Kestrel had continued in his usual pastime of skimming over the Reserve on effortless wings, soaring and diving again. But he saw something that made him drop earthwards in curiosity. Through the gap in the fence where Fox, Badger and Vixen had recently passed in and out of the Park now came a solitary, plump toad – the very one Whistler had rescued and then dropped. Kestrel landed and spoke to the stranger.