The Farthing Wood Collection 1 (9 page)

‘I’m the last dog otter,’ the lame male told himself. ‘When I die the long history of Farthing Wood otters will be finished’. Mechanically he continued in the wake of the two bitches. But he knew suddenly, beyond any doubt, what he must do. He must choose one of the two remaining females and return with her to the banks of the stream where they were born. For, whatever happened then, the future of the Farthing Wood otter colony wouldn’t have been needlessly sacrificed before it had been given a final chance of rebirth.

Reports in the local press about strange sightings of otters and their apparent disappearance from their native habitat were not, of course, overlooked by some bodies of people who welcomed the news. While the conservationists were striving to locate and rescue the animals who had fled and endangered themselves further, these other kinds of humans were venturing into Farthing Wood to take stock for themselves.

Almost as if he had been expecting it, Sage Hedgehog saw a group of men pacing the banks of the stream, intent on acquiring the evidence they needed. Safe under a fallen branch on the edge of the Wood, the old creature watched their movements with foreboding. These men were not dressed in the way that humans who entered Farthing Wood were usually dressed. To Sage Hedgehog this implied a different human type altogether.

Later, in the gathering dusk, the men penetrated the Wood itself and passed within a metre of the hedgehog’s obscuring branch. He observed them and their furtive glances for as long as they were within sight. Then, as soon as he deemed it safe to move, he scuttled in their footsteps, seeking any fellow woodlanders
who would have the sense to stop and listen to him. Luckily he came across Kindly Badger who was busy digging up wild garlic root with his powerful claws.

‘I count myself fortunate to have found you first,’ Sage Hedgehog began in his usual verbose way, ‘because, of all the animals, you are the least likely to discount my intentions.’

‘Well now,’ Kindly Badger said, chomping on a bulb, ‘what’s worrying you on this occasion?’

‘Did you see them?’

‘Them? Who?’

‘The humans. They must have come this way only moments since.’

‘Probably while I was still in my set,’ the badger remarked calmly. ‘The youngster thought he detected their smell.’

‘They were here,’ Sage Hedgehog assured him. ‘I watched them for a long while.’

‘That in itself is nothing out of the ordinary, is it?’ Kindly Badger asked mildly. ‘We’ve been used to humans walking –’

‘No,’ Sage Hedgehog interrupted sharply. ‘Not this sort of human.’ He was tired of the same old response.

‘What do you mean? How were these different?’

‘These humans have the greedy eyes and stony faces of the selfish. My friend, no good will come of their curiosity. These are not tree-gazers like the ones you refer to.’

Kindly Badger was disturbed. ‘What does their presence indicate then, do you think?’

‘It indicates harm,’ the old hedgehog predicted. ‘Harm to us and to the Wood.’

‘Will you speak to others about this?’ the badger
asked. ‘It does seem, perhaps, that this time we should take note.’

‘I shall talk to the foxes,’ the determined hedgehog replied. ‘I have some hopes that the stout one at least may listen this time. He can help us. I shall tell him the foxes must track the otters and bring them back before it’s too late!’

However some of the foxes hastily backtracked, making detours, when they saw Sage Hedgehog approaching. It was spring and they were too preoccupied with their own needs and duties to wish to bother with him. But the old creature valiantly persisted in calling for their attention. He still hoped by some means to involve them. Stout Fox failed to avoid him and was obliged to stand and listen to his latest message.

‘What you say all sounds very plausible, I’m sure,’ he told the hedgehog afterwards, impressed by his urgency. ‘But I think it must be a long time since you had a mate carrying your young. At times like this there’s very little opportunity for the father to think about anything else. I can’t deal with your demands just now.’ And he carried on his way. He was not yet a father, but he was soon to be so, and in the meantime Stout Vixen needed nourishing and was relying on him to provide for her.

Sage Hedgehog was fatalistic about the animals’ reactions. ‘They
will
listen to me,’ he told himself. ‘In time they will. They must. I shall continue to give warnings and try to persuade them to heed them. One day they will understand. I know my role and I shall pursue it.’

Away from the Wood, Lame Otter limped into the thick growth of grass and weeds where the two bitch otters were lying restlessly. He told them what he had seen of the dead male, and let the realization sink in of the otters’ mortal vulnerability in this vicious new world. The females were silent and sombre. Lame Otter wondered who would choose to join him on his return journey. He knew it was only in that way that his partner would be decided. He was perfectly aware that, as a prospective mate, neither would choose him in normal circumstances. He waited a while. Then he spoke.

‘We shall all die out here,’ he said simply. ‘And very soon. There is one other option. You must both know what that is.’

Long-Whiskers looked at him longingly, as if begging him to take the decision for her.

‘The other option,’ said Sleek Otter, ‘doesn’t exist as far as I’m concerned. For me there’s no going back.’

Lame Otter and Long-Whiskers exchanged meaningful glances. They both understood the choice was made.

Sleek Otter understood too. After a period of silence she said quietly, ‘Don’t persuade me to come with you. I wish you well. But I – I shall be a lone otter with, I think, a better chance of cheating danger.’ She was putting a brave face on it. They all knew that and there was nothing more to say.

At dusk the three otters moved. Their first priority was to find food. Whereas before Sleek Otter had taken the lead in exploration, Lame Otter and Long-Whiskers realized now they must rely on themselves. They
deliberately took a different direction from Sleek Otter, parting from her without a word and aware, as she was, that they would never see each other again.

‘You’ll have to do the hunting,’ Lame Otter said to his companion. ‘I’m useless as a predator’.

‘I know,’ Long-Whiskers answered. ‘I’ll do my best.’

Lame Otter limped behind. Suddenly Long-Whiskers turned and said, ‘It would be best if you lie low while I’m on a hunt. We need to practise stealth if we’re going to eat and –’

‘And I’m clumsy? Yes, I’ve got the foxes to thank for that,’ Lame Otter interrupted bitterly. They were both at once reminded of the perils that would have to be faced back in Farthing Wood. ‘I’ll go back to where we left the sleek one,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where else I can lie hidden.’

Rain began to fall heavily as he returned to the overgrown garden. The evening was cool and the grasses and wet soil smelt sweet. The shower brought frogs and toads out of hiding. The garden, long untended, had provided a perfect refuge for them. Lame Otter was exhilarated. He ignored the foul-tasting toads and pounced on a frog that squatted only a few centimetres away. This success lifted his spirits, but the frogs were able to leap considerable distances and afterwards he never quite managed to get close enough before his prey vaulted beyond reach. He longed for Long-Whiskers to return. He knew that here she could have rounded up a good meal for them in no time. The one frog he had been able to eat had tasted delicious and he was impatient for more.

‘Come on, come on,’ he fretted as he watched with exasperation while the frogs themselves seized their
own prey in the shape of slugs and worms, although he went hungry.

Suddenly, noiselessly, Long-Whiskers was beside him. She had brought no food. ‘Quickly, come
now
,’ she whispered. ‘I ran into some humans and only escaped in the nick of time.’ She was quivering with fright. ‘One tried to grab me. They’re after us – they’re carrying traps and bright gleaming lights that shine all around like huge stars.’

‘But-but,’ Lame Otter stammered, looking at the frogs with regret, ‘there’s food here. Can’t we hide?’

‘Not here,’ she hissed. Even as she spoke Lame Otter heard human voices, and abruptly the garden was swept by powerful torch-light. Long-Whiskers leapt in alarm and raced away.

‘There it is!’ a man cried, seeing her movement.

‘There’s another!’ came a second voice as Lame Otter was bathed in light, cowering back amongst the greenery.

The men came crashing into the garden, intent on capturing the animals they had been seeking for days. Fear clawed at Lame Otter’s heart and lent speed to his limbs. A net was thrown at him, but he dodged it and scrambled clear, running as he had never run since receiving his wound. He was oblivious of any pain; his injured leg seemed to respond to his desperate need to escape.

‘Catch it!’, ‘Stop it!’ human voices cried as the men thrashed about, trying another throw of the net. But Lame Otter had found darkness again and, using its merciful veil, he raced away as though all the foxes in Farthing Wood were after him.

Long-Whiskers had run towards the railway embankment. She could think only of the deep black
interior of the hollow log and wanted to wrap herself in its protection again. Her fur streamed with water. She took great gulps of air as she ran, straining every muscle to reach her goal. But, before she could find sanctuary, a train – a monster of speed and light – came rushing, as she thought, towards her out of the gloom. She reared up, changing tack, and ran along the crest of the embankment, parallel to the railway line. The train disappeared. Long-Whiskers continued to run blindly. The embankment dropped down to a road which crossed the line at that point. A few cars were crawling over this level crossing. The barriers had just been raised following the passing of the train. Long-Whiskers slowed and hesitated. She seemed to recognize the road as the way to escape the rushing monsters. She pattered across the line in the wake of the vehicles and then veered away through an orchard that bordered the embankment on the opposite side.

Lame Otter had seen her dark shape illuminated on the crest by the lights from the train windows, and he struggled to keep her in view. He was so fearful of losing her with all that would entail from that, that the shock of the humans’ sudden appearance became of secondary consideration. He trailed her to the level crossing and then, on the other side, could find no trace of where she had gone next. He called her urgently.

Long-Whiskers had paused to draw breath. His plaintive cries reached her ears. Joyfully, and with relief, she answered. Lame Otter hobbled towards her. Now that the immediate danger was averted, pain reclaimed his senses and his pace became agonizingly slow. She was waiting for him under an apple tree whose boughs were awash with blossom.

‘Brave creature,’ she breathed compassionately. ‘You saved yourself.’

‘At some … cost … I’m afraid,’ Lame Otter gasped.

‘We’ve escaped them for now,’ Long-Whiskers resumed. ‘But they won’t give us up if they think we’re still in the area.’

‘Then we … must leave it.’

‘Tomorrow. You can go no further for the present.’

‘No.’

‘Rest here while I look for a refuge.’

‘Don’t go far,’ he pleaded.

‘Only as far as is necessary,’ she assured him.

Lame Otter collapsed against the trunk of the apple-tree. His legs trembled violently from his exertions. He wondered if he would even be able to move as far as the nearest hiding-place. No human sounds were evident and he fell into a sleep of exhaustion.

He was wakened by Long-Whiskers’ gentle nudges. It was a while before he could recover himself and recognize what was happening.

‘Some luck at last,’ she was murmuring. ‘I’ve found a pond in the next field. There’s plenty of cover and there are water-fowl and a moorhen’s nest. We can take shelter and feed ourselves at the same time. There’s nothing like the savour of tender young nestlings.’

Lame Otter looked at her dreamily. ‘I have a feeling,’ he said, ‘things are about to change for us.’

The otter pair hid themselves thankfully amongst a thick growth of water-irises. How could they know that the humans they had evaded meant them no harm? That they actually would have delivered them to their old home by a much safer and quicker route? To the animals, these men with their brilliant lamps and their nets seemed terrifying. As for Sleek Otter, she had bolted into a drainage ditch where she lay quaking until the humans had disappeared.