Tales From Watership Down

by Richard Adams

  "Two nights later, the knowledge grew wider. Flyairth, wandering by herself outside Thinial, had come upon a solitary rabbit, a hlessi, lurching about and dying of the Blindness. Horrified, she kept away from it, but then she saw that it was approaching Thinial of its own accord. Yet at the last moment, apparently, it crawled away in another direction.

  "That was all that the river brought us that night.

  "For several nights afterward, we learned of nothing but Flyairth's growing obsession with the Blindness. She knew that if in some way or other it got into Thinial, it would destroy it.

  "It wasn't I," said Vilthuril, "it was Hyzenthlay who came to know from the river that Flyairth meant to go to any lengths to keep the Blindness out of Thinial. Her great fear was that an infected rabbit--some stranger--might wander into the warren. One strange thing about the Blindness, as I expect you all know, is that infected rabbits are able to mate and quite often do.

  "Flyairth told her Owsla of her fear, and they agreed that everything possible must be done to keep infected rabbits out of the warren. By day, all strangers were refused entry, whether or not they could be seen or smelled to be ill. By night, the task was more difficult. A stranger could get in unseen. The bucks agreed to take it in turns to keep a night watch--four bucks each night--to guard against strangers.

  "That was all we learned for many days. And then the knowledge reached us that an infected buck, a stranger, had got into Thinial by night and mated with one of the does, who had become pregnant. One of the bucks who had been on watch admitted that he had fought the stranger, who had beaten him and then entered the warren. Understandably, perhaps, he had said nothing and hoped that he'd hear no more of the matter. The pregnant doe, Milmown, had no buck of her own, and told the Owsla that the stranger had mated with her and then gone his way.

  "All might yet have been well, if Milmown had not developed the Blindness. When it was plain that she had, Flyairth and Prake were implacable. Milmown, though pitied by many, was driven out of Thinial by the Owsla and told never to return.

  "But she didn't go away. She remained a short distance from the warren and constantly pleaded, to anyone who would listen, to be allowed to return. And for some reason the progress of the disease in her was delayed. She scratched a hole in the sand and there she bore her litter: no more than four rabbits, blind, deaf and furless. When they had become old enough to fend for themselves, the White Blindness once more continued to run its course, and Milmown died.

  "And now all that the three of us could learn from the secret river was the same knowledge, repeated day after day. We knew that the four young rabbits of Milmown's litter were living as best they could in the open, not far from Thinial, and that although they didn't appear to have the Blindness, the Chief Rabbit refused to give them help or shelter. No one could say she was wrong, but few would themselves have felt able to enforce such severity.

  "I think many in Thinial must have expected the young rabbits to fall victim to the Thousand, but no elil appeared, and we learned from the secret river that they continued to survive.

  "Then we began to receive fresh knowledge, something that hadn't come down the river before. At first it was confused and fragmentary, and we couldn't make anything of it all, until Thethuthinnag said that she thought it had something to do with rabbits in Thinial becoming opposed to Flyairth. Once we'd grasped that, the knowledge began to reach us more clearly. The root of it was that Milmown had been well liked in the warren and had had a good many friends, including two or three of the Owsla. These friends hadn't been able to do anything for her when she had been driven out, because she had the Blindness; she would die, and that was all there was to it. But now that she was dead and her four young, as far as anyone could see, had not got the Blindness, a number of her former friends began saying that Flyairth and Prake were going too far and that to leave Milmown's young to die outside the warren was going to unnecessary and cruel lengths. Flyairth, however, refused to consider any change. For her, the safety and survival of Thinial were all-important and justified any severity.

  "However, more and more rabbits began to drift away from her. They could see with their own eyes the young rabbits who had been abandoned, but they couldn't envisage an epidemic of the White Blindness which was not there. Some began going out to meet and talk to Milmown's youngsters, telling them that they personally would like to see them brought into the warren; and to put a stop to this sort of thing was very difficult for the Owsla.

  "And then the river knowledge came to me, hard-breathing in the crowded Near Hind burrow one hot summer night, that several rabbits had come together, brought Milmown's young into Thinial and given them an empty burrow of their own, in defiance of the Owsla. When Flyairth herself came to order them to leave, she was met by does from among those who had come with her to found the warren, who said that the young rabbits were not to be evicted. Flyairth, a heavy, tough doe, fought and beat two or three of them. But she could not fight them all.

  "For many days the river brought us nothing more. All the knowledge we received was of the helpless anger of Flyairth, as she went among one group of her rabbits after another, doing all she could to assert her authority. We--the three of us in Efrafa--thought that she would have done better to let the matter drop. But she was so much obsessed by her fear of the Blindness that she couldn't weight up its probability or improbability. As long as there was the least chance of it reentering Thinial, she must take every possible step to prevent it. And night upon night the secret river brought us nothing but the knowledge of her ceaseless anger and determination.

  "I shall never forget lying, sometimes half the night, against the burrow wall in Efrafa, conscious of nothing but Flyairth's rage pouring over me and wondering how it could be that others could not feel it. It was by far the strongest and most powerful flood of knowledge we had yet received.

  "Flyairth's position as Chief Rabbit was very much weakened by the whole business of Milmown's young, especially because she had refused to give way.

  "It was just at this time that she bore her third litter. She was obliged to relinquish her position as Chief Rabbit to look after them, and of course this restricted her and diminished her influence in the warren.

  "There were rabbits who said that since she still refused to give way over Milmown's young, she had better cease to be Chief Rabbit.

  "And it was just at this point that we lost the chance of gaining any more knowledge of Thinial or of Flyairth and her desperation. But it wasn't anything to do with the secret river. It was because Bigwig was brought into Efrafa and made an officer in the Near Hind Mark--our Mark. When did you first talk to Hyzenthlay about the escape, Bigwig?"

  "It was the night of the same day that I joined the Mark," replied Bigwig. "In my burrow, Hyzenthlay. Do you remember? The plan was that you'd pick the does for the escape. Then you'd tell them that same day and we'd break out that evening. The less time they had to think about it, the better."

  "But we couldn't do it that evening, because Woundwort kept you talking."

  "So we had to make it the next evening--the evening of the thunderstorm. The evening they arrested Nelthilta."

  "How many nights did you actually spend in Efrafa, then?" asked Vilthuril.

  "Three."

  "I remember," said Hyzenthlay. "I was terrified at the idea of all those does knowing about the escape for a whole night and a day. I thought we were bound to be discovered. I was right too. If Nelthilta had been arrested a little earlier, that would have been that."

  "My last night in Efrafa," said Vilthuril, "was the night we all spent knowing about the plan and having to wait. And that was the last night, too, that I went into the secret river. I was the only one of the three of us."

  "I had no heart for it that night," said Hyzenthlay. "Thethuthinnang and I were both worried to death that the plan would be discovered."

  "That night," said Vilthuril, "I learned nothing--nothing more than I already knew about the growing op
position to Flyairth. I wonder how it all turned out."

  "The strangest thing of all, to me," said Hyzenthlay, "is that we haven't the least idea where Thinial is or where those rabbits are. They might be many days' journey away, or they might be quite near us."

  "It's the strangest story I've ever heard," said Hazel.

  It was not the underground "river" which seemed incredible to Hazel and the other rabbits who had listened to Vilthuril's story. When meeting with phenomena, none of them ever thought in terms of a division between what was credible and what was not. The idea of the inexplicable meant nothing to them; they did not need it. So much that was inexplicable--for example, the phases of the moon--lay around them that they simply accepted it as part of their lives. True, the "river" lay outside their own experience, but so did much else. What struck them as extraordinary was that Vilthuril should have received this story--this information--never mind how, about rabbits distant from themselves, rabbits not one of whom they had ever seen. As she told it, these far-off rabbits had not communicated to her the knowledge she had received: it had simply come to her, almost as though she had been in Thinial herself. If it had not reached her by way of an underground river--and no doubt there were plenty of them in the world--then it would have come in some other way. Why? Well, said some, it must have been drifting about, to be almost accidentally picked up by rabbits like Fiver and Vilthuril; and that was strange. Not altogether, said others. It was common knowledge that Fiver and Vilthuril possessed unusual sensibilities.

  There was no general agreement, and it was left to Blackberry to reach a conclusion which anyone could comfortably accept. "I doubt whether we've heard the last of it."

  13

  The New Warren

  A Cold Coming they had of it:... just, the worst time

  of the year, to take a journey ... the weather sharp,

  the days short, the sun farthest off.

  BISHOP LANCELOT ANDREWES, Sermon 15:

  "Of the Nativity"

  Kehaar, the black-headed gull, was flying westward above the land between Caesar's Belt and the Down. He flew low and in irregular curves from north to south and back, alighting every now and then at his leisure to feed for a while across any piece of likely-looking ground which attracted him.

  He was not in the best of tempers. Naturally aggressive and quick to annoyance, like most gulls who live in competition with a myriad of others, he did not always like being asked to carry out tasks by the Watership Down rabbits. Showing pugnacity and attacking their enemies was one thing. Searching was another. Five months before, he had enjoyed taking part in their conflict with Efrafa, in diving on the formidable General Woundwort, in covering the retreat of Bigwig and the fugitive does in their flight from Efrafa and helping them to escape down the river. What he liked was onslaught. Nevertheless, after the rabbits had saved his life while he was lying injured and helpless on the Down, he had willingly performed for them the reconnaissance which had so unluckily ended in nothing better than his discovery of Efrafa.

  Now, to have been asked to carry out another, similar flight had annoyed him, though not to the extent of refusing to do it. It had been tactfully requested. Hazel, who knew very well that of all his rabbits Bigwig was Kehaar's particular admirer and friend, had shrewdly left to him the business of explaining to the gull their purpose and what they wanted him to look for.

  "We're going to start a new warren, Kehaar," Bigwig had said, dodging here and there between the gull's orange-colored legs as he strutted over the thinning November grass. "before this one gets crowded out. Half the rabbits will come from here and half from Efrafa. We want you to find us the right place and then go to Efrafa and ask Captain Campion to come and meet us there and have a look at it."

  "Vat kind of place you vant?" replied Kehaar. "And vhere do you vant it?"

  "Somewhere out there on the sunset side," said Bigwig, "about halfway between here and Efrafa. It mustn't be anywhere near men's houses or gardens: that's very important. And we need a dry place, where digging's going to be easy. What would be perfect would be a bank on the edge of a copse where men don't come much and there are a few bushes to conceal the holes."

  "I find him," answered Kehaar shortly. "Den I come and tell you, show you vhere. Show Efrafa fellow vhere too, yes?"

  "That'll be grand, Kehaar. Splendid bird! What a friend you've been to us! We couldn't possibly do it without you."

  "Not for vait about. I go now. Come back tomorrow, you come 'ere for me tell you, yes?"

  "I'll be here. Mind out for the cats, won't you?"

  "Yark! Damn' cat: 'e no catch me again."

  With this he took off, flying southward in the chilly sunshine.

  He flew over Hare Warren Farm and down to the strip of woodland known as Caesar's Belt. Here he foraged for a time and exchange chat with a few gulls like himself.

  "There's bad weather on the way," said one of these. "Very bad weather; the worst we've ever known. Snow and bitter cold out of the west. If you don't want to die, Kehaar, you'd better find some shelter."

  Kehaar, flying on westward, soon felt, in the mysterious and unaccountable way of his kind, the impending cold which the chance-me gull had warned him of. Muttering "Damn' rabbits no fly," he went as far as Beacon Hill before turning back along a line further to the north. Soon he came upon as perfect a site for a warren as any rabbit could well wish for: a lonely, shallow bank facing southwest on the edge of a wood of ash and silver birch. In front lay a grassy field, where three or four horses were grazing.

  He alighted and looked about him. Clearly, men must come fairly often to see to the horses, but equally clearly there was no likelihood of the meadow being plowed. He could see no sign of possession by rabbits--no holes, no hraka. He would be unlikely to find a better place. It lay, he judged, rather nearer Efrafa than Watership, but this was nothing against it in the light of its obvious merits.

  The following day he met Bigwig, together with Hazel, Groundsel and Thethuthinnang, and told them of his discovery. Hazel, after praising him warmly, asked him to go to Efrafa, tell Campion, and find out how soon he could join them for a meeting at the site itself.

  The business of arranging a meeting involved complications and a certain amount of danger. Campion would need to be guided by Kehaar, already surly at being asked to do so much. But the Watership rabbits would also need guiding. Plainly, one party would have to wait on the site for the others to arrive. There would be danger from elil. It was some time before everything was fixed. Campion sent word that he would start as soon as he learned from Kehaar that Hazel and the others had already reached the bank and were waiting for him. This would mean that the Watership rabbits would have to spend at least a night and a day in the open.

  "Well, there's no help for it," said Hazel, "and at least we'll have Kehaar with us for the night, to attack any elil that may turn up. I'm ready to start tomorrow, if we can get there in a day."

  "Ya, you get dere in a day," said Kehaar. "I take you, den next day fly to Efrafa, bring Meester Campion before dark."

  They arrived at the site in early evening, and after silflay in the meadow, settled down to sleep in the long grass.

  In the half darkness of the moonlit night they were attacked by a male stoat. It was plainly confident of making an easy kill, but it had reckoned without Kehaar. Alerted by the frantic squealing of the rabbits, the gull dived from the ash tree where he had settled for the night, and wounded the stoat severely before it was able to extricate itself and make off into the copse. "I no kill 'im," said Kehaar ruefully, in reply to the rabbits' thanks, "but all the same 'e get big surprise, 'e no come back."

  The following morning Groundsel consulted with Hazel and Bigwig. "I'm not easily frightened by elil, "he said. "Woundwort knew that: that was why he picked me for his attack on your warren. But I don't fancy living in a place that's crawling with stoats and weasels."

  "You'll be all right once your holes are dug," said Big-wig. "What do you think,
Hazel-rah? Ought they to start digging, at once, perhaps?"

  At this point they were joined by Kehaar, who had evidently overheard Bigwig.

  "You no start holes now," he said to Hazel as though giving an order. "You take your rabbits home plenty damn' quick."

  "But why, Kehaar?" asked Hazel." I thought we were all ready now to bring out rabbits from both warrens and get started."

  "You no get started now," said the gull, even more emphatically. "You start now, you lose every damn' rabbit you got."

  "But how?"

  "Cold. Frost, snow, ice, every damn' t'ing. Coming soon, very bad."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yark! Ask any bird you like. Any rabbit try to stay 'ere, live in open, 'e frozen dead. Vinter cold coming, Meester 'Azel: bad, bad cold. You take rabbits home, whole damn lot today."

  "But you brought us here yesterday and never said anything about frost."

  "I no feel 'im yesterday. Yesterday I t'ink you got time to start. But today feel different. You no got time. Cold coming very soon."

  Knowing and trusting Kehaar as they did, the four Watership rabbits set off for home at once, while the gull flew to Efrafa to tell Campion that the project was postponed. Campion was skeptical. "It doesn't look like frost to me."

  "Den you go out dere, you make damn' fine ice rabbit," said Kehaar, and flew away without another word.

  14

  Flyairth

  If a mother could be content to be nothing but a mother:

  but where would you find one who would be satisfied

  with that part alone?

  ELIAS CANETTI, Auto da Fae

  From winter, plague and pestilence, good Lord, deliver us!

  THOMAS NASHE, Summer's Last Will and Testament

  Just as the gull had said, the unexpected cold was not long in coming. During the very night after their return, there was a sharp frost. The cold continued throughout the following day, and next night the frost was even more bitter. It was clear to all Hazel's rabbits that now they were in for the winter cold of which Kehaar had warned them. From then on, keen frosts lasted all day and each night were intensified under empty, clear skies. From horizon to horizon the stars glittered with an icy brilliance, and below them nothing moved on the frozen ground. Birds and animals either starved or else left the Down to try their luck below, in the fields and gardens of Ecchinswell or Kingsclere. The owls and kestrels perforce followed their prey, and from Beacon Hill to Cottington's Clump the high ridges were deserted.