The Farthing Wood Collection 1 (27 page)

‘You are repeating almost word for word what I’ve said to Fox,’ Vixen remarked. ‘Although our hearts are with you I don’t believe we have the power to be of assistance.’

The Great Stag shook his noble head. ‘If the Warden does not return I have decided there is only one course of action open to us.’

‘I think I know what’s in your mind,’ said Fox quietly, ‘for it has occurred to me also.’

‘I fear we must leave the Park,’ the Great Stag pronounced.

‘Yes. It’s as I expected. But outside you would run the same risk.’

‘However, we could scatter over a wider area.’

Fox was silent for some moments. ‘No,’ he said finally in the determined manner that Vixen knew so well. ‘It mustn’t come to that. I won’t admit defeat. I have the germ of an idea. Will you give me a day or so?’

‘My dear friend,’ the Stag said feelingly, ‘you are under no obligation to do anything. You have your own problems. Of course I will give you whatever time you wish. I had not planned to leave our home just yet.’

‘The men don’t return every night,’ Vixen said. ‘You should be safe for the time being.’

Fox was deep in thought. ‘I need to work things out,’ he said presently. He turned to the Stag. ‘We’ll leave you now,’ he said, ‘and I will return to put my plan before you.’

‘You are a gracious and clever animal,’ replied the overlord of the Reserve. ‘I shall await your coming again with the utmost eagerness.’

As Fox and Vixen turned after their farewells, she questioned him. ‘May I ask what you have in mind?’

‘I’ll tell you all eventually,’ he replied. ‘It’s the Pond, you see – that’s the key to the whole thing.’

The following afternoon the Park was invaded again by groups of young boys, most of them muffled to the chin to beat the cold, who had come to skate. The home of the Edible Frogs had been frozen over for months, but there were signs that a slight rise in temperature had occurred. In a few places the surface of the Pond had a little water on top of the ice. The youngsters, however, after inspecting thoroughly, donned their skates and proceeded to enjoy them selves.

From a snow-festooned bed of rushes Fox was watching their antics closely. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the many times Adder had waited at the waterside during the summer, patiently watching the
Edible Frogs disporting themselves. But his vigil was for a very different reason.

After an hour or so he had seen all he wanted to. Carefully avoiding any risk of being spotted by pairs of sharp young eyes, he made his way back to his earth. Vixen woke as he entered. She looked at him searchingly. ‘Nothing yet,’ was his only remark.

During the next couple of days the weather became noticeably milder, and for longer stretches the sun broke through the cloud formation that had loured upon the Park for so long. Each day Fox watched at the pond-side. On the second night the men returned and another deer was shot. The Great Stag in this time had not seen Fox again. Once more he began to think in terms of leaving the reserve.

But the very next afternoon Fox saw what he had been waiting for. The children arrived, but found their skating restricted. Almost a third of the Pond now had to be avoided, and they soon left it altogether in favour of tobogganing. Fox knew it was time for him to re-visit the Stag.

The great beast listened silently while he unfolded his plan, then raised his head and bellowed a challenge to the air, ‘Now let them come,’ he roared. Fox waited no longer. There was much to do.

But first he wanted Vixen’s approval. During the journey to the Park he had relied a good deal on her judgement and had learnt to value it. She heard his plan and looked at him in admiration. Her enthusiasm did not need to be expressed in words. The Fox gathered all his friends together and put them in the picture also. They were totally in agreement save, predictably, for Tawny Owl who only gave grudging support.

‘Can’t see why you want to bother so much with a
deer herd,’ he muttered. ‘As long as the humans are banging away at them,
we’re
that much safer.’

‘But safer still if they can’t “bang away” at
anything
Fox said coolly.

‘Very well,’ said Badger. ‘Now we must arrange for the sentries.’

So a system was arranged by which the animals were to watch the place where the poachers entered, the boundary between the Park and the road, and give early warning of their approach. Tawny Owl, Kestrel and Whistler were stationed at intervals along the fence. Along the ground Weasel, Hare, Badger and Vixen waited. Midway between the boundary and the Pond, Fox was stationed, while in the region of the Pond itself the Great Stag was patrolling in readiness to play his part in the Plan.

The first night passed without event, and at dawn the animals and birds returned to their homes. On the second night they were back at their posts. Although it was still cold, there was no longer the viciousness in the wind that had cut through their fur and feathers like a knife-blade. The snow that had covered the ground for so long had softened and, on the road outside the Park, had been churned into slush by motor vehicles. It was the noise of the steady squelch of steps through this slush that was the first sign to the waiting animals of the men’s approach.

Weasel’s sharp ears were the first to detect the sound. His small body, so close to the ground, had not the stature to see into the road. He ran quickly to the fence-post on which sat Tawny Owl. ‘I hear footsteps!’ he cried. ‘Is it them?’

‘I can see something coming,’ replied Owl. ‘Wait – yes, two figures … Yes! Yes! Quickly! Tell the others! I’m off to Fox!’ He flew up in a wide arc over the tree-tops
and sped off in the direction of the waiting Fox. Weasel passed the word to the others and together they raced back through the Park. Fox saw Tawny Owl approaching him at speed and himself prepared to run.

‘To the Pond!’ cried Owl. ‘They’re on their way!’

At once Fox set off at a breakneck pace, his breath coming like small bursts of steam from his mouth. Whistler and Kestrel were first back to safety. Vixen, Weasel and Badger had a long run ahead of them to keep in front of the men. Only Hare was almost as swift overland as the birds through the air.

Fox had told them to hide themselves once he had received the message. Out of sight they were quite safe from the poachers’ guns. The men had come for larger game. But it was not in the nature of the animals of Farthing Wood to disassociate themselves from such an important event – and one in which the leader was placing himself in danger. So the slower animals had condemned themselves to run across an exhausting stretch of parkland to be in on things. Of the three Vixen was by far the fastest and she outdistanced Weasel and Badger as quickly as Hare had outdistanced her. Weasel, although far smaller than Badger, was much more lithe and had a far more elastic and rippling running pace. But he moderated his speed to suit the older animal’s comfort.

As his friends hastened back to join him, Fox was on his way to join the Stag. The scion of the deer herd had agreed to keep his station by the Pond each night until he saw Fox again. He lowered his head as he saw the familiar chestnut body racing towards him.

‘Hold – yourself – ready,’ gasped Fox, his tongue lolling painfully from his mouth. ‘They’re coming.’

‘So tonight is to be the night,’ the Stag intoned. ‘Rest
awhile, my friend. You appear to be somewhat distressed.’

‘No, I – mustn’t stop – I must complete the – task,’ Fox panted. ‘I – have to make – sure they – find you.’ And he was off again, back in the direction from which he had come – back towards the men with guns. He passed a black poplar in whose boughs clustered Tawny Owl, Kestrel and Whistler. But they did not interrupt him and he did not see them. He did see Hare but there was no time to stop and he went by without a glance. Next he passed Vixen who gave him a longing look. He half looked back as he ran, but even she had to be ignored for the sake of the Plan. When he spotted Badger and Weasel in the distance he dropped on all fours, for behind them the two fateful shadows were approaching.

‘Go to cover,’ he told his friends as they reached him. ‘No need to endanger more of us than necessary.’ They passed on and Fox waited to begin the gamble of his life.

Among the snow-coated sedges by the Pond lay Hare. He was watching the White Stag nervously tossing his head as he stood by the edge of the ice, his legs quivering. Vixen found him and lay down. She was unable to speak. Her heart was pounding unmercifully. Eventually Badger and Weasel tottered in to join them. There they waited and watched.

Twenty yards from the men, Fox stood up and yapped loudly. The signal was heard and out from the nearby copse came the White Deer herd, slowly, timidly, in knots of three and four. The men stopped. One pointed and their voices made themselves heard. They were looking among the herd and Fox knew who they were looking for. But the one they wanted was missing. The human voices were heard again – harsh, rough voices. The deer paused. Fox yapped again and started towards them. The deer scattered as instructed, running in the direction
of the Pond. The men shouted angrily, now pointing at the fox. This was the animal that had frustrated them before. Fox ran behind the herd as if driving them. His back was to the men, and every nerve-end along his neck, his spine and his haunches was strung as taut as a guitar string. The hackles rose on his coat for he knew he was courting death. At last he had to glance back. He saw one of the men raise his gun. It was aimed at him, the cause of their wrath. But Fox had no intention of being shot. He wheeled away at a right-angle, running fast, then twisted and swerved, twisted and swerved, like a hare followed by hounds. A shot rang out but the bullet found no mark.

Now the men were running, for their quarry was escaping. They would have one deer, if not the one they were after. The herd reached the brink of the Pond and spread out, screening its edge. In front of them, on to the ice itself, stepped the Great Stag. Cautiously he went, pausing at each step, until he reached the limit of safety. As the men came up, the herd swung away to the right, leaving the Stag exposed – solitary, undefended, alone on the ice. The men saw their passage was clear on the left side of the Pond. The Stag’s head was turned away as if he were ignorant of their intention. They edged out, foot by foot, on the treacherous ice. They meant to have him this time. At the moment they raised their weapons Fox barked a third time. The Stag swung his great head round, saw the men and, with a tremendous bound leapt for the shore. But the poachers were committed now. They saw their target about to escape from their grip again. They ran forward to take aim at the retreating animal and then – crash! suddenly it was as if their feet were snatched from under them, and they were plunging down, down into black, icy water. Their guns were
thrown away as they sought to save themselves, floundering and trying to find a handhold on something.

The Great Stag turned at the edge of the ice and saw the weapons meant for his death sink to the murky depths of the Pond’s bottom, abandoned without a thought by their owners. At this clear evidence that Fox’s plan had worked to perfection the Stag laid his head back and bellowed in triumph. Then Fox was surrounded by his jubilant friends – his old friends and the whole of the deer herd. The Great Stag joined them. ‘That,’ he boomed, ‘is a piece of animal cunning never likely to be surpassed.’

While the animals were milling around, the men were striking out for the shore. The Pond was not deep and they were in no danger save that of a severe ducking and a bad chill. Their cries of anger had changed to cries of distress before they had pulled their frozen, dripping bodies clear of the water on to the shore. They cast one look at the bevy of wild creatures who had bested them, and then set off at an uncomfortable trot. Their misery would not be over for a while, for back they had to go across the Park and along the slushy road before there was any hope of being dry and warm again. At every step the icy coldness of their drenched clothing chafed at their bodies and neither of them could imagine a discomfort existed that could be more severe.

‘I think we’ve seen the last of them,’ said Hare. ‘Fox, this is your greatest day. Even on our long journey you never reached these heights.’

Fox felt the admiration of all the creatures swell like a tide around him, but he was content to know that his plan had worked without mishap. Only Vixen, in all her fierce pride, felt a nagging doubt about what might be the reaction of two humans degraded and humiliated beyond belief by a fox.