The Farthing Wood Collection 1 (16 page)

As he approached the Hollow, the sky was darkening fast, and a cold wind was whipping through the grass. Toad almost wished he had followed Adder into the shelter of the hole, but he felt he just could not have been so unfriendly. No movement could be discerned in or around the Hollow, so Toad sat down to wait, amusing himself by flicking up a stray beetle here and there. Presently a ghostly form could be seen lumbering towards him through the gloom. Toad made out Badger’s grey outline.

‘Hallo, my dear friend,’ said Badger warmly. ‘I’m surprised to see you out on a cold night like this.’

‘It’ll be the last time’, commented Toad. ‘Before the Spring.’

‘I see, I see,’ Badger nodded. ‘You’ve come to say goodbye. Well, it could be for quite some time, you know.’ He paused and snuffled in the brisk air.

‘Do you think it will be a hard winter?’ Toad asked.

‘Every winter is hard for some,’ Badger answered. ‘The weakest among us always suffer the most. The small creatures: the mice, the shrews, the voles and, particularly, the small birds – every winter takes its toll of them. But yes – I sense that this winter will be one to reckon with. There’s something in that wind ….’

‘I felt it, too,’ Toad nodded. ‘And Adder – he’s already settled.’

‘Just like him to disappear without trace,’ Badger muttered. ‘Well, at least it’ll put an end to that nonsense of his with the Edible Frogs.’

‘Yes, until next year,’ Toad remarked drily. ‘But, d’you know, Badger, he actually invited me to join him in his sleeping quarters – at least, in a roundabout sort of way.’

‘Oh, he’s all right really,’ Badger granted. ‘After all, you can’t expect a great deal of warm feeling from a snake.’

While they were talking, they saw Fox and Vixen slip stealthily past in the moonlight, intent upon hunting. Toad was disappointed. ‘They could have stopped for a word,’ he complained, ‘when I’ve made a point of coming to see you all. And in this wind, too.’

‘Don’t feel slighted, old friend,’ Badger said earnestly. ‘I’m sure they don’t realize you’re about to go underground. It wouldn’t be like Fox.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ Toad assented. ‘But he’s not the close friend he used to be before Vixen came – at least not to me. Ah well, that’s the feminine influence for you.’

Badger nodded his striped head, smiling gently. ‘We old bachelors have little experience of such things, I’m afraid,’ he said softly. ‘We live out our solitary lives in rather a narrow way by comparison.’

Toad was touched by the note of wistfulness in Badger’s voice. ‘I – I never realized you felt that way about it, Badger,’ he said in a low croak. ‘But there are lady badgers in the park, surely?’

‘Oh yes, it’s different from Farthing Wood in that respect,’ Badger agreed. ‘But I’ve been living alone for too long now. I couldn’t adjust.’

Toad was silent. He felt it was best not to add anything. There was a long pause and Toad shuffled a trifle uncomfortably. ‘Hallo,’ he said suddenly, ‘here’s another old bachelor,’ as Tawny Owl fluttered to the ground beside them.

Owl nodded to them both, then said, ‘I hope you weren’t speaking derisively, Toad. I can’t answer for you two, but I’m single from choice alone.’

‘
Your
choice – or the choice of the lady owls?’ Toad asked innocently. Badger muffled a laugh.

‘Very amusing, I’m sure,’ Owl snorted. ‘I’d better go. I didn’t come here to be insulted.’

Badger, so often the peacemaker, stepped in. ‘Now, Owl, don’t be so hasty. No offence was intended. Toad’s come to see us because he’s going into hibernation soon.’

‘Humph!’ Tawny Owl grunted, ruffling his feathers. But he did not go.

‘Yes, tomorrow to be exact,’ Toad informed him. ‘And I shan’t be sorry. I sympathize with you fellows who have to face whatever comes: ice, frost or snow. It’s marvellous just to fall asleep and forget all about it – and then, simply wake up as soon as it’s warm again.’

‘There’s certainly a lot to be said for it,’ Badger remarked.

‘But it takes months off your life,’ Tawny Owl pointed out. ‘You may as well be dead for six months of the year.’

‘Not quite as long as that,’ Toad corrected him. ‘Anyway, it depends on the weather. In a mild winter, I might be out again in February.’

‘Mark my words, Toad,’ Tawny Owl said with emphasis. ‘This is going to be a difficult one.’

‘Then my heartfelt good wishes go with you,’ Toad said sincerely. ‘I hope you all come through.’

The three friends remained talking a while longer, while the cold wind continued to blow. Finally Tawny Owl declared he was hungry and flew off in search of prey. Something struck Toad at his departure and he fell to musing.

‘You know, Badger,’ he said presently, ‘we shake our heads over old Adder and his designs on my cousins the frogs, but really he’s not so much a threat to the denizens of White Deer Park as Fox or Owl, who go hunting here every night.’

‘A thought that had also occurred to me,’ Badger acknowledged. ‘But there were foxes and owls – and other predators – in the park before we arrived. So in the same way the voles and fieldmice and rabbits of the Farthing Wood party run the same risk from the enemies already here.’

Toad nodded and sighed. ‘My idea of the Nature Reserve as a new and safe home for all has not proved quite true,’ he said ruefully.

‘Nowhere is completely safe,’ Badger assured him. ‘But the Park is about as safe as anywhere could be for wild creatures, for there is no presence of Man. And in that respect it is a veritable haven compared with Farthing Wood.’

Toad grinned. ‘You’ve soothed my mind as usual,’ he
said. ‘Well, Badger, I shall not delay you any longer. Farewell till Spring.’ He turned to make his way back to the bank where Adder was already asleep. On his way he encountered Fox again. This time Fox stopped. Toad explained where he was going.

‘You could perhaps give a message to Adder for me,’ Fox requested. ‘Tell him to go down deep. And you too, Toad,’ he finished enigmatically.

‘How deep?’ queried Toad.

‘As deep as it takes to escape the frost.’ Fox shivered in the wind as if illustrating his warning.

‘We shall take heed, Fox,’ Toad answered. ‘Have no fear.’

They parted and Toad crawled on towards his objective. Fox stood and watched him a long time. Then he shook himself vigorously and went to rejoin Vixen. Winter, he knew, was hovering just around the corner, waiting to pounce.

During the next few weeks, as October passed into November and the leaves fell thick and fast in White Deer Park, the animals kept very much to themselves. Their main preoccupation was food.

Nature had provided an abundance of berries and nuts which, as all wild creatures know, is a sure sign of severe weather to come. So the squirrels and the voles and the fieldmice were able to feast themselves for a short period. There was a spell of heavy rain which brought out the slugs and worms, and Hedgehog and his friends fattened themselves up nicely before they made their winter homes under thick piles of leaves and brush in the undergrowth. As they disappeared to hibernate, the other animals knew that time was running
out, and renewed their efforts. All ate well for a space.

The first heavy frost descended at the end of November and Mole, whose tremendous appetite was un-dimmed, found an abundance of earthworms deep underground. Their movements were restricted by the frozen ground near the surface and he amassed a large collection against emergencies. He was so proud of his efforts that he was bursting to tell someone about them. So he tunnelled his way through to Badger’s set which was close by, and woke him from a late afternoon snooze.

‘It’s me! Mole!’ he cried unnecessarily. ‘Wake up, Badger. I want to tell you what I’ve been doing.’

Badger sat up slowly and sniffed at his small friend. ‘You smell of worms,’ he said abruptly.

‘Of course I do,’ Mole replied importantly. ‘I’ve been harvesting them.’

‘Harvesting them?’

‘Yes, you know, collecting – er – gathering them. I’ve never known it to be so easy to catch so many. They’re all securely stowed away in a nice big pile of earth where my nest is.’

‘I didn’t realize it was possible to stow away slippery things like worms,’ Badger remarked. ‘By the time you get back they’ll all have wriggled away.’

‘Oh no, they won’t,’ declared Mole. ‘They can’t,’ he added mysteriously.

‘Why, what have you done to them?’

‘I’ve tied them up in knots!’ cried Mole excitedly. ‘And they can’t undo themselves.’ He began to giggle as he saw Badger’s stupefied expression, and he was still giggling when Badger received another guest, in the shape of Fox.

‘Have you been outside?’ he asked, after greeting them.

They shook their heads.

‘It’s snowing,’ he stated.

They followed him up Badger’s exit tunnel to look. It was dusk, but the sloping ground in the little copse Badger had favoured as his new home was gleaming white. The trees themselves glowed mysteriously in their soft new clothing. They watched the large flat flakes drift silently downward. There was no wind. Everything seemed completely still save what was dropping steadily from the sky.

‘It’s already quite thick,’ Fox told them. ‘I can’t see my tracks.’

‘I’ve never seen snow falling before,’ Mole said as he watched with fascination. His eyes, used to darkness, blinked rapidly in the brightness of the white carpet spread before them. ‘Will it cover everything?’

‘Not quite everything,’ answered Badger. ‘But it makes movement very difficult for small creatures. The birds don’t have to worry, of course. Except in so far as feeding is concerned.’

‘I can only remember one winter in Farthing Wood when it snowed,’ said Fox. ‘That was when I was very young. But there was only a light fall, and it didn’t really hamper anyone’s movements.’

‘Oh yes,’ nodded Badger. ‘Of latter years there’s not been a great deal of bad weather. But I recall the times when Winter meant Winter, and we had snow every year. Of course, my memory goes farther back than yours, Fox.’

Fox smiled slightly. He knew Badger loved to indulge in reminiscences, and he was aware of his proneness to exaggerate about ‘life in the old days’.

‘I remember one winter in particular,’ Badger continued, delighted to have an audience. ‘You hadn’t appeared on the scene then, either of you, and I’m pretty certain Tawny Owl wasn’t around at that time either.
Anyway, the snow lay on the ground for months, and I had to dig a regular track through it for foraging purposes. Everything was frozen hard – the pond, the stream, every small puddle. My father was still alive then and he taught us how to munch the snow for water. Otherwise we couldn’t have drunk and we should have died.’

‘What does it taste like? What does it taste like?’ shrilled Mole.

‘Oh, well – er – like water, I suppose,’ replied Badger. ‘Yes, and I shall never forget the number of birds and small creatures who perished from the cold.’

‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ Mole cried. ‘I hope you don’t mean moles?’

‘Well, possibly not moles,’ said Badger hurriedly. ‘Mostly songbirds really. They couldn’t find enough to eat and, naturally, their little bodies weren’t able to withstand the bitter weather.’

‘Poor things,’ said Mole in a subdued tone. ‘It’s a pity they can’t hibernate like Adder and Toad.’

The snow seemed to fall more thickly as they watched. Mole shivered.

‘Go back inside,’ the kindly Badger said at once. ‘It’s warm in my sleeping-chamber.’

‘I’m not cold,’ Mole told him, ‘but thank you, Badger. No, it’s just the eeriness that made me shiver. It’s so quiet and still – it’s uncanny.’

Through the ghostly trees they spotted a dark figure stepping through the snow. They all knew at once it was the Warden of the Nature Reserve on his rounds. They watched him stop periodically by a tree and tie something on to a low-hanging branch.

‘What’s he doing?’ Mole asked, whose short-sightedness could only distinguish a tall blur of movement.

‘I don’t know for sure,’ answered Badger. ‘But it’s my
guess he’s leaving some sort of food for the birds.’

‘Then that’s bad news for us,’ Fox said at once. ‘Humans never do such things without a particular reason. It is well-known they can tell in advance what sort of weather is approaching. We must be in for some severe times.’ He trotted over to look at the objects the Warden had left behind.

‘You’re right, Badger,’ he called back. ‘It
is
bird food. Nuts and fat and so on. I hope our feathered friends are up early,’ he continued to himself, ‘otherwise Squirrel and his pals will be having a feast at their expense.’ He said as much to Badger on his return.

‘Well, we must stop them,’ said that thoughtful animal resolutely. ‘The squirrels have buried enough acorns and beech-nuts to feed the whole of White Deer Park.’

‘You’ll be asleep when
they
get up,’ Fox reminded him with a smile. ‘You’d better leave it to me to have a word.’

‘Will you and Vixen be warm enough in your den?’ Badger asked suddenly. ‘I’ve collected plenty of extra bedding for my set, and you’re welcome to share it.’

‘You’re very kind,’ replied Fox, ‘but I think we’re all right. We keep each other warm, you know,’ he added.