The Farthing Wood Collection 1 (31 page)

‘Not all of them, I’m afraid. You have been well out of the troubles we’ve experienced since we last saw you.’

‘Dear, dear,’ said Hedgehog. ‘Has it been a bad winter, then?’

‘The worst any of us can remember,’ answered Kestrel. ‘And that includes Badger.’

‘But tell me,’ Hedgehog said, looking concerned, ‘have any lost their lives?’

‘Many,’ said the hawk simply. ‘The voles are reduced to a single pair – Vole himself and his mate – and the fieldmice only one better. The rabbits have suffered badly, too. And the squirrels have had their losses.’

‘This is shocking,’ responded Hedgehog. ‘I never expected anything like this. But Fox, Badger, Vixen …?’

‘The larger animals have all survived – but only just. I tell you, Hedgehog, you can’t conceive how near to death we all were. I think this winter has left its mark on everyone.’

‘Is little Mole then –?’

‘No, no. He’s all right. I think he suffered less than anyone. It appears his beloved worms are easier to find in cold weather – it restricts their movements.’

Hedgehog nodded. ‘And the other birds?’

‘Yes, Owl and Whistler have made it, too. But the winter hasn’t been the only thing we’ve had to contend with.’

‘Good gracious! What else?’

‘Well, come along. Come and see the others and you’ll hear all about it. I’ll meet you at Badger’s set.’

So Hedgehog made his way along and soon was surrounded by a number of the other animals. Together they told him of the harrowing events during the preceding months. At the end of it, he felt glad and relieved that
some
of his friends were there to greet him.

‘And I’ve slept through it all in blissful ignorance,’ he said wonderingly.

‘Best thing to have done,’ Hare told him. ‘You’ve had a happy release.’

With the re-appearance of the hedgehogs, the animals knew that their party, although reduced, would soon be together again. One particularly warm morning in early March they all decided to make the trip to the Pond, as Badger was quite convinced that Toad and Adder would be tempted by its pleasantness from their burrow.

As they approached the water, the scene of such a dramatic occurrence during the winter, there were already signs of activity. The Edible Frogs had woken and were splashing about furiously, or sitting by the water’s edge, croaking. And nearby, on a sunny slope, basking delightedly in the warm rays of the sun, who should they find but Adder?

‘Mmmm,’ he murmured dreamily as he spied the company, ‘don’t talk to me. I’m not really awake yet.’

The animals laughed but ignored his request.

‘Certainly not alert,’ Fox corrected him, referring to his proximity to the frogs, ‘but definitely awake.’

‘Where’s Toad?’ Badger asked. ‘Did you leave him behind?’

‘Oh no,’ drawled Adder. ‘When I awoke the hole was quite empty. He must have decided to greet the sun before me.’

‘I wonder where he is,’ said Badger. ‘We couldn’t have missed him.’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said the snake. ‘But please – leave me. Let me doze.’

‘Unsociable old so-and-so,’ muttered Tawny Owl. ‘We’ll get no sense out of him for the moment.’

Fox was looking for the patriarch of the Pond, the large frog that knew Toad best. Perhaps he could throw some light on Toad’s absence. He found him, newly glistening, surveying the scene from a piece of flat rock.

‘Oh yes, I saw him,’ he answered in reply to Fox’s question. ‘Two days ago. He was making off towards the Park boundary.’

‘
What
!?’

‘Yes – there, in that direction.’

The animals were stunned. What could he be up to?

‘Perhaps he’s lost his memory,’ piped up Mole. ‘During his long sleep, I mean,’ he added, thinking he may have sounded silly.

‘You all seem to have lost yours,’ rejoined Adder in his lazy lisp. ‘It’s obvious what’s happened. It’s Spring. Toad’s returning to his birthplace.’ His red eyes glinted in the sun as he looked at their astonished faces contemptuously. ‘He’s on his way back to Farthing Wood.’

The rest of the animals and the birds were dumbfounded. They looked at each other with blank faces. It was too incredible. Yet it had happened before. They all owed their knowledge of the Park’s existence to Toad, who had discovered it and travelled across country for the best part of a year to bring news of it to the beleaguered Farthing Wood. On that occasion, however, he had been returning to his old home – Farthing Pond – only to find it had disappeared; destroyed by humans.

‘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 with 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.