by Ben Fogle
‘Now I see why you’re here,’ said Mr Dog. ‘Pet rabbits need looking after, so you’re trying to fit in with Mother Rabbit’s little ones.’
‘I thought that she might look after me along with her real bunnies,’ Socks admitted. ‘She lost three of her little ones when a fox raided the warren. I thought having me to look after would make her feel better. But now you say she’s gone …?’
‘Taken away in a cage by a muddy man,’ Mr Dog agreed. ‘Socks, you have to understand: even if she did look after you, young bunnies in the wild only stay with their mothers for a few weeks. You’d soon end up on your own again.’
‘Yes, but by then my owners would have come back for me,’ Socks said, although he did look a little uncertain. ‘They wouldn’t leave me out here for ever. Would they?’
Mr Dog didn’t reply. He had the saddest feeling that Socks’s owners were never coming back.
Suddenly, a scent was carried to him on the air and his ears pricked up. Rabbits were scattering all about and in the distance he could see a torch bobbing. Then, through the twilight gloom, he saw the sleek frame of another dog running towards the warren. As it got closer Mr Dog could see it was a lurcher.
‘It’s a hunting dog, after rabbits!’ Mr Dog batted Socks towards the burrow with his scruffy tail. ‘Quick! Get out of sight. Baby bunnies have no scent but you do!’
‘Eeek!’ Quick as a flash, Socks shot back inside the rabbit hole. ‘I hate the wild. I’m never coming out again!’
Mr Dog was already down on his haunches, moving in a commando crawl towards the cover of some bushes so he could keep an eye on what was going on, while staying out of sight. The lurcher was running at incredible speed – it had been trained to catch rabbits, and that’s what it was out to do! With horror, Mr Dog saw that the hunting hound was headed for a bunch of bunnies who were oblivious to the danger.
What could he do?
Desperately, making all the noise he could muster, Mr Dog burst from the bushes and ran for the rabbits himself, woofing at the top of his lungs. The rabbits jumped in the air and fled.
The lurcher arrived on the scene a moment later, panting for breath. ‘You fool!’ he snarled at Mr Dog. ‘You scared them all away before I could even catch one!’
Mr Dog assumed an innocent air. ‘My dear fellow, I’m so very sorry. I was trying to hunt those rabbits myself, but I’m afraid I’m not very good at it. Not like you – you seem to bea real expert.’
‘Well, yes, I am, since you happen to mention it.’ The lurcher looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why are you here? Where’s your owner?’
‘Oh, somewhere about,’ Mr Dog said vaguely. ‘He set me loose to catch a rabbit but, well – I’m no lurcher, am I? I nearly got one but it ended up getting caught in a trap! Then a man took it away through the Big New Fence.’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said the lurcher. ‘They’ve got dozens of rabbits caged up in there.’
‘Why do you think that is?’ Mr Dog asked him. ‘What are they up to?’
‘Digging, my owner says.’ The lurcher looked back as his owner called to him. ‘She’ll be cross with me now. All the rabbits have scattered and I haven’t caught a single one.’
‘I can’t say sorry enough,’ said Mr Dog, hiding his smile. ‘But I’m sure you’ll be back.’
‘Not for much longer,’ the lurcher said. ‘The people digging behind the fence are trying to control the rabbits with traps and scarers and clever hunting dogs like me, but it’s not working. My owner says they’re going to deal with them permanently.’
‘Permanently?’ echoed Mr Dog. ‘You mean for ever, for good, no turning back? Why, whatever could they be planning?’
But the lurcher had sprinted away at its owner’s call, leaving Mr Dog alone – and feeling very, very worried.
Chapter Four
DIGGING DEEP
It proved to be a busy evening for Mr Dog.
The lurcher and his owner ended up hanging around for hours, trying to catch rabbits or simply chasing them into nets. Mr Dog had to sneak about pulling the nets off or scaring the bunnies away without being spotted.
At last, the lurcher and his owner gave up and went away … through the same door in the Big New Fence.
Exhausted, Mr Dog went back to the burrow.
Socks nervously pushed his head out. ‘What happened back there?’
‘The people behind that fence have really got it in for rabbits …’ Mr Dog explained what he’d done and all he’d seen.
‘So, the rabbits are going to be dealt with p-p-permanently?’ Socks twitched his little pink nose in alarm. ‘That’s awful. What if my owners haven’t come back to me by then?’
‘And what about all the rabbits in these fields?’ Mr Dog lay down again, shaking his head. ‘Somehow I’ve got to find Mother Rabbit, put her back with her bunnies, and help all the other rabbits too—’
‘Including me?’ Socks said hopefully.
Mr Dog looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes, I’d like to help you too, Socks.’
‘Brilliant!’ Socks hopped up and down. ‘But why would you help us? You’re a free dog – you could go anywhere you like.’
‘And leave animals in danger without at least trying to help them?’ Mr Dog tutted. ‘That’s just not me. No, no, that wouldn’t do at all. What if I were the one in danger? I’d like to think other animals would help me if I were in trouble.’ He looked pointedly at Socks. ‘Animals like you – you’ll help me, won’t you?’
Socks looked nervous. ‘Er … What are you going to do?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Mr Dog grinned. ‘The answers – and the rabbits – lie behind the Big New Fence. Somehow we have to get inside!’
The young bunnies and Socks needed their sleep. Mr Dog lay outside their burrow like a guard dog until the dawn scattered its light on the world. The birds began to call and, like the other beasts, the rabbits began to busy themselves with grooming and feeding.
Mr Dog could tell that Mother Rabbit’s bunnies were very hungry. They were too young to eat solid food – they needed milk. Mr Dog knew that if they went without it much longer they’d grow dehydrated and die.
‘My tummy hurts,’ said the older girl bunny.
‘Mine hurts more,’ said the boy.
‘Mine hurts most,’ squeaked their little sister.
‘I had hoped to leave you bunnies behind in your burrow and bring your mother back to you,’ said Mr Dog. ‘But that might take too long – you need her milk now. You’ll just have to come with us.’
‘Come with you where, Mr Dog?’ asked the boy, sleepy-eyed.
‘Where?’ Mr Dog struck a heroic pose. ‘Why, behind the fence, of course!’
‘Eeek!’ Socks jumped in the air. ‘That sounds scary!’
‘I think you mean exciting, Socks.’ Mr Dog gave him a stern look. ‘Now, young bunnies, we’re going on an adventure, and I may need to speak to you quickly. I can’t be saying, “Hey, there, boy bunny!” or “Watch out there, girl bunny!” What are your names?’
‘Mother hasn’t named us yet.’ The elder girl bunny wiggled her nose. ‘Why don’t you give us names, Mr Dog?’
Mr Dog considered. ‘Well, in keeping with the footwear theme started by Socks, how about I call you Sneaker, your brother Shoe, and your little sister Flip-Flop?’
The bunnies laughed. ‘Flip-Flop!’ squeaked Flip-Flop.
‘Sneaker!’ said Shoe.
‘Shoe!’ said Sneaker.
‘We had all better “shoo”!’ Mr Dog stretched, shook his fur to straighten the hanky round his neck and then padded over to the huge fence. Going over it was not an option … but perhaps they could tunnel under it?
‘Any good at burrowing, Socks?’ Mr Dog began scuffing at the turf around the base of the fence. ‘The quickest way to get in is to go right under here.’
‘Before the people wake up?’ Socks said, nodding. ‘Good idea. People stay asleep for ages.’
‘Right.’ Mr Dog began digging with
his front paws, spraying dirt in all directions. ‘We can have a good nose about and won’t be noticed.’
Socks joined in the digging. Sneaker, Shoe and Flip-Flop tried too, but kept falling over clods of earth.
‘Something’s wrong.’ Mr Dog peered down at the hole they were making. ‘Our tunnel’s not getting any deeper.’
‘Something’s blocking the way down there.’ Socks jumped in and cooed. ‘Oooh! It’s like the front of my old hutch. Happy days …’
Mr Dog sighed. ‘It’s chicken wire.’
‘I didn’t know chickens made wire,’ said Shoe.
‘They don’t. They make eggs. Anything else would be eggs-tremely silly.’ Mr Dog nudged Socks out of the hole with his nose. ‘The builders of this fence have obviously put chicken wire underground to stop you rabbits digging underneath it.’
‘Sneaky devils.’ Socks clambered up a small hillock and looked towards the distant road. ‘Oh well. Let’s give up and wait for my owners to arrive.’
‘I think we’ll be waiting a long time,’ Mr Dog growled. ‘Besides, I don’t like giving up. Did Wellington give up? Did Lincoln? Did Churchill?’
‘Who are they?’ asked Sneaker.
‘These three Labradors I met once. When they got a bone, they never gave it up. Most inspiring!’ He gave an encouraging grin. ‘Come on, let’s go right the way round this fence, looking for a better way in. Perhaps they haven’t laid chicken wire all the way around …’
The curious-looking group made their way along the fence as the sun began its slow ascent into the sky. Mr Dog tried digging down at various points, but each time he came up against the same thing – more dreaded chicken wire.
‘I’m still hungry,’ said Flip-Flop.
‘Me too,’ said Shoe.
‘Try grass,’ said Socks, munching on a slender stem.
‘No, don’t!’ Mr Dog barked. ‘That could be bad for your tummies. Your mum’s milk is super-nutritious; it gives you all you need to get by. I don’t think you’re ready to start eating grass yet.’
Sneaker gave a little sigh. ‘How come you know so much about it, Mr Dog?’
‘Well, a doctor makes people well – and the D-O-G in my name is short for dog-tor!’ He licked his sore claw. ‘Well, maybe. Come along. We must stay busy – that will help keep your minds off your tummies.’
‘I thought my mind was in my head,’ said Flip-Flop.
‘What mind?’ teased Shoe.
Socks nudged all three bunnies along. ‘Come on, let’s speed this up.’
Following the fence, they came to another sharp corner. As they turned it, a shadow fell over them and Socks gave a loud squeak of horror. It was the shadow of a hunting bird!
‘Behind me, everyone!’ cried Mr Dog, standing up on his back legs. Socks gasped, squashed, as the little rabbits bundled up around him.
Snarling, Mr Dog studied the sky. There was no hunting bird to be seen – and yet the shadow was still visible on the grass by the fence.
Then he saw that the shadow was being cast by a flat metal cut-out of a bird hanging from a wire wrapped round a wooden post in the ground.
‘Phew!’ Mr Dog dropped back to all fours and turned to his party of rabbits. ‘It’s all right. It’s just a sort of scarecrow to scare you little furry foragers away.’
‘People are mean,’ said Sneaker sadly.
‘So mean,’ Flip-Flop agreed.
‘And my tummy still hurts,’ added Shoe.
‘After the way you charged into me, so does mine!’ said Socks.
‘Hush now, children.’ Mr Dog was eyeing the post. ‘If the scarecrow has been placed here, perhaps the chicken wire hasn’t? Let’s find out.’
His front legs were aching by now, but Mr Dog dutifully dug once again in the wavering shadow of the make-believe bird of prey. ‘Don’t be scared of the scarecrow,’ he panted as he worked. ‘Remember, it can’t hurt you.’
It wasn’t long before Mr Dog struck wire netting again. Feeling cross, he moved a few metres along and tried digging again. Surely there had to be some part of the Big New Fence that was unprotected? The shadow of the hunting bird flitted around him in a circle, but he took no notice.
For at least three seconds.
That was when he realised he had moved well away from the scarecrow silhouette of the bird of prey. So how could it still be hanging over him?
With a gasp of horror Mr Dog looked up. The silhouette had been joined by a real hunting bird. A red kite was swooping down towards the bunnies, its deadly talons outstretched to snatch them up!
Chapter Five
UNDER THE FENCE
Even as Mr Dog opened his jaws to bark a warning, he knew it was too late. The red kite was a swift and powerful hunter. As it dropped from the sky to make a catch, its curved beak opened, ready to bite down on the baby bunnies.
But Socks had seen the danger already. His powerful hind legs propelled him forward and he knocked Shoe, Sneaker and Flip-Flop flying. The red kite caught only grass in its talons and rose up again into the sky.
Mr Dog barked, ‘Quick! Hide in the hole!’
All four rabbits ducked into the dip in the ground and Mr Dog lay down over them, hiding them from view. The red kite circled once more, then tipped away, looking for easier prey elsewhere.
‘That was close!’ came Sneaker’s muffled voice.
‘Sneaker, you’re sitting on my head,’ snuffled Shoe.
‘Who’s sitting on mine?’ sniffed Flip-Flop. ‘I don’t dare open my eyes!’
‘I think I am,’ said Socks. ‘Sorry. I’m shaking all over.’
Mr Dog quickly got off and smiled down at Socks. ‘Well, if you stop shaking, I’ll shake your paw! You were very brave, Socks. You saved those bunnies’ lives!’
‘Did I?’ Socks seemed in a daze as he climbed out. ‘Well, I had to do something … We’re family, aren’t we?’
‘Right!’ Shoe hopped out of the hole with Flip-Flop and they both nudged up to him.
But Sneaker didn’t follow. ‘Hey, Socks,’ she squeaked from somewhere in the hole, ‘did you burrow further down?’
‘I did,’ Socks agreed. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘But how could you? The wire was in the way … wasn’t it?’ Mr Dog padded closer to the hole and smiled. ‘Well, well! Look what’s happened! You’ve found the edge of the netting. There must be a gap before the next stretch of chicken wire starts – that’s why the scarecrow’s here.’
Shoe hopped about excitedly. ‘So we can get under the fence?’
‘We can find our mum?’ asked Flip-Flop.
‘Let’s hope so,’ Mr Dog agreed. ‘Come on, everyone. Let’s get burrowing!’
So quietly, bravely, all four animals dug, delved and burrowed through the mud as best they could. The rabbits went first, making a narrow tunnel beneath the Big New Fence. Then they sat back and caught their breath while Mr Dog took a turn, shovelling with his paws to widen it so that he could fit through too. He kicked up a shower of mud – mud and something else …
‘Ow!’ said Socks. ‘Something just knocked me on the head!’
‘Hey, what’s that?’ said Shoe.
‘It’s shiny!’ said Sneaker.
Flip-Flop licked it. ‘Ugh! It doesn’t taste good.’
‘Let me see.’ Mr Dog turned and frowned at the sight of a small gold disc on the ground. ‘That’s a coin, isn’t it? I wonder what that was doing buried in the mud?’
‘I don’t suppose it was doing much at all,’ said Sneaker wisely.
‘A human must’ve dropped it.’ Socks sniffed at a clod of earth and it crumbled. ‘Look, there are more here.’
Mr Dog examined the coins. They looked to be gold, and very, very old: they were quite wonky.
If we were humans, we could buy milk for the bunnies with these, thought Mr Dog. But coins are useless for animals.
‘Is the tunnel nearly finished?’ asked Sneaker softly.
‘Won’t be long now.’ Mr Dog nibbl
ed some mud from his fur. ‘One last push, and we’ll make it for sure. Here goes …!’
After digging and scrabbling and growling and pushing, Mr Dog finally broke through the ground, snout first.
He gulped down breaths as he looked all about.
He had emerged on the other side of the Big New Fence to discover … mud! Piles and piles of mud lay heaped all round the edges of what seemed to be the ruins of a very old courtyard – the craggy remains of drystone walls half buried in sandy soil. Several pits had been dug inside the crumbling walls, each marked out with lengths of string tied between tent pegs. Wooden racks held old cups and bowls, each carefully labelled. Beyond the mud and the stone ruins stood an old caravan connected to a squat black and green generator that was taking electricity to two large grey Portakabins, a couple of tents and an old snack van, its serving window closed.
‘This is what the humans built their fence round?’ said Socks, struggling through beside him. ‘What a dump!’
Sneaker agreed. ‘It’s just full of dirt and stones and stuff.’
‘There must be a point to this place.’ Mr Dog sniffed the air. ‘The humans wouldn’t go to the trouble of building that fence and trying to deal with you rabbits if it wasn’t important …’
‘Well, no rabbit would come here unless they had to!’ Socks declared. ‘There’s nothing to eat for a start!’
‘But, thank goodness, there is something to drink!’ Mr Dog had spied a small bowl of water on the ground beside the caravan. Perhaps it belonged to the lurcher? He trotted over with some relief. ‘My mouth is as dry as a hamster’s cheek pouch …’ He lapped thirstily at the water. ‘Ahhh, that’s better.’
‘I disagree!’
The voice, cold and supercilious, made Socks and the bunnies duck back into their hole.
Mr Dog froze. Who had discovered them?
Chapter Six
THE BLACK CAT
