Tales from Watership Down (17 page)

“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.

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.

None of Hazel’s rabbits had ever experienced so prolonged or bitter a frost. There was little nourishment in the thin, many-times-nibbled grass, and little warmth to be gained from bodies huddled together underground. They became torpid and drowsy. Some supposed that the frost would never come to an end, and were hard to convince that endurance was worthwhile and their proper response, as ordained by Lord Frith.

One afternoon the cold lessened slightly. Cloud filled the western sky and moved gradually closer until it lay overhead. Heavy it seemed, as though carrying an invisible load pressing upon the Down and holding it even stiller than the frost. There was not the least wind, yet the cloud mass, which now filled the whole sky, moved slowly eastward, thickening as it came.

Snow began to fall; at first only a little, scattered here and there and gone as it reached the ground. A light but bitter breeze sprang up, driving the flakes before it as they increased. Soon the fall grew heavy, so that there was nothing to be seen through the flakes but more distant flakes, spinning and whirling as they fell. Before long they began to cover the grass, lying between the tussocks in patches which grew and came together to form sheets. By dusk the whole Down was overlaid, and onto the smooth whiteness fell more snow, slowly covering and deepening the fragile mass.

Gazing out at the snow, Hazel, who had done his best
every day to meet and talk with all his rabbits, knew that the time had come to lead them down to the winter burrows dug by Bluebell, Pipkin and the does during the autumn. He had never been to look them over, and for this he blamed himself. One thing was sure: there could be no more digging now, with the ground hard as rock. They would have to take the winter burrows as they found them.

However, he thought that first he would go down the hill by himself and see what the burrows were like. Then he realized that he would have to take Bluebell with him, since Bluebell had assured him that the holes were well concealed, and without him he would probably not be able to find them. Finally he decided to take Bluebell, Pipkin and any of the does who wanted to come.

He had got them together and was on the point of setting out, when he was joined by Bigwig, who wondered where they were going and why. When Hazel told him, he asked to join the party, and Hazel, peering out into the still-falling snow, felt glad enough to take him along.

The snow caused them to difficulty over the direction to take, for it was simply a matter of running the short distance to the northern edge of the Down and then descending the steep slope to its foot. They could see almost nothing, however, through the falling snow, and neither Bluebell nor Pipkin could remember where the holes were and how far along the foot of the Down they needed to go. After some fruitless searching, Pipkin ventured to say that he thought they had come too far and ought to turn back and look along a particular bank which he now recalled.
He was proved right almost at once, when Bluebell, going a little way up a snowy slope, came upon one of the holes, concealed by a clump of thistles.

Hazel and Bigwig found him crouching over the mouth of the hole, looking at it in an uncertain way, as though puzzled.

“Hazel-rah,” he said, “if I’m not mistaken, this hole’s been in use for quite some time. What’s more, I think there are some rabbits down there now.” He moved aside. “See what you think.”

Hazel put his front paws through the snow. He could not be sure, but certainly he seemed to feel a scraped depression in the frozen ground and a slight irregularity in the mouth of the hole itself. There was a fresh smell of rabbits. He turned to Bigwig.

“I think he’s right. There
are
some rabbits down there. We’d better go in ourselves, I suppose, and find out who they are.”

So saying, without hesitation he went into the hole. He knew that Bigwig was behind him and felt sure enough that the others would follow. It was quite a long run, without obstructions, but as far as he could tell there was no enemy waiting for him at the other end. He came out into the burrow and paused for Bigwig to join him.

It was at this moment that he found himself confronted by a heavy, burly doe, a complete stranger. Her manner was hostile, and behind her was clustered a group of several younger rabbits.

“What do you think you’re doing, coming in here?” said the doe. “Get out, before I—”

She stopped on seeing Bigwig behind Hazel, and as she hesitated Bluebell and Pipkin came out into the burrow, followed by four does.

“I think
you’d
better tell
us
who you are and what you’re doing here,” said Hazel, quietly but firmly. “This is our burrow. We dug it.”

As the doe still hesitated, Bigwig, at Hazel’s side, said tentatively, “Could you possibly be … are you … that is … is your name Flyairth, and have you come from Thinial?”

At this, the doe started, trembling with real fear. Her whole manner changed. Bigwig said nothing more. At length she replied, “Who are you? How could you know—” She broke off.

In a tone of greater confidence, Bigwig repeated, “Is your name Flyairth?”

“Have
you
come from Thinial, then?” she asked him.

“No, I haven’t,” answered Bigwig. “For the third time, is your name Flyairth?”

Hazel interposed. “Let’s all settle down comfortably and explain ourselves to one another.” Sitting down himself, he went on: “The burrows where we usually live are higher up, not far from here. We dug these burrows down here last autumn, to have somewhere more sheltered to go when it started snowing. We don’t want to quarrel with you, but naturally we were surprised to find you here.”

The doe spoke to Bigwig. “How do you know my name and where I’ve come from?”

“I can’t explain,” replied Bigwig, “or not now, anyway. Whether or not you can stay is for our Chief Rabbit here to decide.”

Still she persisted. “But have you been to Thinial? How do you know about Thinial?”

“Never mind about that now,” said Hazel. “We just want you to know that we’re not your enemies. You can stay—for the time being. Bigwig here and I are going back up the hill now to bring down the rest of our rabbits.”

“Let me come with you,” said the doe. “I’ve never been up the hill as yet, and I ought to get to know your warren as soon as I can.”

“All right,” said Hazel, “but we shan’t be able to show you much tonight. I just want to get our rabbits down here as quick as we can and let them settle in and go to sleep.”

“I won’t be any trouble to you,” said Flyairth. “There’s a full moon, so I’ll be able to tag along quite easily.”

“It’s no distance, anyway,” said Hazel. “We shan’t be long. Bluebell and Hlao-roo, and you does—will you stay here until we come back? If the other two burrows are as good as this one, Bluebell, there’ll be quite enough room for all of us.”

“They’re expandable, Hazel-rah, you see,” said Bluebell. “The more rabbits you put in them, the bigger they get. And warmer too.”

When Hazel, together with Bigwig and Flyairth, left the hole, night had fallen. The cloud had broken up, and the full moon, shining on the snow, gave them plenty of light. As they came off the steep slope and onto the top of the Down, Bigwig stopped, sniffing the air and looking about him.

“Wait a moment, Hazel-rah. There’s something—well, something unusual.”

Hazel also halted. “Yes, you’re right. Whatever it is, I don’t like it any more than you do. Still, we can’t hang about here. Let’s go on slowly and keep a good lookout.”

The three rabbits approached the corner of the wood cautiously. They were a short distance away when Bigwig stopped again. “On the path, Hazel-rah. Something black, quite large. Can you see it?”