The Siege of White Deer Park (2 page)

‘That’s very helpful,’ remarked Weasel sarcastically.

‘I meant it for the best,’ Owl defended himself. ‘We don’t want to be caught napping, do we?’

‘No, but there’s a reasonable chance in your case,’ Weasel murmured wickedly. It was well known that Tawny Owl spent most of the daylight hours dozing. Owl pretended not to hear.

‘Oh!’ exclamined Fox. ‘How I wish our brave Kestrel was still around to do some scouting for us!’

‘Yes,’ said Whistler the heron. ‘If anyone could have spotted the danger he could have done. But can I be of any service? I don’t have Kestrel’s piercing vision, but I
do
have wings, and there’s a deal to be seen from the air
which you creatures would likely miss.’

‘Of course,’ said Fox. ‘Thank you. Any help is most welcome.’

‘You know long flights are awkward with your bad wing,’ Tawny Owl pointed out to the heron. He referred to the bird’s old wound from a badly aimed bullet, which had caused him more trouble as he grew older. ‘It had better be me.’

Whistler, whose name derived from the noise this wing made as it flapped through the air, knew perfectly well that Owl felt he had lost face by not offering his services first. But he was too polite to mention it. ‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘I know you night birds have to catch up on your sleep while my sort are active.’

His intended tact misfired. Tawny Owl’s feelings were hurt. He was very conscious that his advancing age made him sleep longer than he used to. His feathers ruffled indignantly.

‘Nonsense!’ he said. ‘I’m quite capable of flying by day. And more accurately than you, I might add.’

‘As you say, old friend,’ Whistler said readily with his constant good humour. He was quite unaffected by Owl’s sharp retort.

‘We’ll share the search then.’

‘Very well,’ replied Owl huffily.

Weasel looked at Owl with distaste. ‘He gets worse as he gets older,’ he murmured to himself.

The two birds made long flights over the surrounding area; the heron by day, the owl by night. Neither was able to see anything that might explain the recent developments. But some of the creatures who had taken refuge within the Reserve talked to the animals they met there. Word spread of a large, fierce beast who made raids in the night. No animal had seen it and survived, so none of the refugees could give even the vaguest description of it. There were rumours of terrible slaughter. Tales of its unnerving hunting skills were rife. It could climb; it could swim; it could catch creatures underground. Some even suspected it could fly, since
birds also suffered from its depredations. Soon the whole Park was in a state of suspense.

But it was Spring and, despite the suspense, the activities of Spring went on. Pairing and mating, nest-building and preparing dens for imminent births overrode any other consideration. For a while the threat of the unknown seemed to recede. Then, with startling suddenness, a change in the usual absorbing routine shocked the animals out of their preoccupation. In the midst of their mating season, the colony of Edible Frogs made a mass exodus from their pond. They were not content to hide themselves in the waterside vegetation. They hopped away in all directions as far as they could go, apparently desperate to get right away from the pond. Other aquatic creatures such as newts were seen in great numbers leaving the pond, and the ducks, coots and moorhens who had built their nests on or near the water deserted them entirely. It was obvious that something very alarming had happened to drive them away. The animals and birds did not need to ask each other what this could be. They knew. The Beast had arrived in the Park.

Toad, who had acted as guide to the Farthing Wood animals on their long journey to White Deer Park, was eager to talk to Fox. He had not been in the water himself when the eruption of the Edible Frogs from the pond had occurred. But he had witnessed their panic.

‘It was pandemonium,’ he told Fox. ‘They couldn’t scramble away fast enough from that water. There was something
in
the pond.’

‘Did you see what it was?’ Fox asked quickly.

‘No, no. It was too dark for that,’ replied Toad. ‘But I didn’t want to stay around myself to find out!’

‘Of course not. I can well see why.’

‘I don’t know what the Frogs will do now,’ Toad croaked. ‘The pond is their gathering point. How can they carry on their lives now – and in the middle of the most important time of the year?’

‘I wonder how any of us will cope,’ Fox returned. ‘You can’t deal with something unseen.’

‘I’d like to stay around here for a while if I may?’ Toad murmured. ‘There’s comfort in company and I haven’t seen Badger in a long while.’

Fox spoke quietly: ‘I’m afraid he’s failing, Toad, little by little. We’re all much older than we were, but Badger seems to live in his own little world. He only does what’s necessary – can’t be bothered with anything else.’

‘I think Mole’s sadly missed,’ Toad murmured. ‘And Kestrel too. What an acrobat
he
was in the sky! But our old life, back in the Wood, and the great trek here that seemed as if it would go on for ever – doesn’t it seem so long ago?’

‘An age,’ Fox agreed. ‘Vixen and I often talk about the past. A sign of
our
age, no doubt,’ he mocked himself.

‘Yes. We always overcame troubles together before, didn’t we?’ Toad went on. ‘But, you know, this new menace – I have a feeling it may be too much for us.’

After this, life in the Reserve went on as if on tiptoe. The whole community held its breath – and waited. One morning the remains of three adult rabbits were found close together under some blackthorn. It was obvious this was not the work of a fox. The other rabbits spoke of a hint of soft footfalls around their burrows. As usual they had seen nothing. But each of them seemed to have been aware of a Presence.

At intervals other carcasses were discovered. Their killer had great stealth and cunning. It was never seen during the day, and at night, although every animal and bird stayed alert for it, nothing positive was heard.

The inhabitants of White Deer Park, many of whom were chiefly nocturnal in their habits, began to feel as if they were under siege. Yet they had to eat. They went about in fear and trepidation, trying to stay as close to their homes as possible. But deaths still occurred. The mystery continued to hang balefully over the Reserve.

The creature’s amazing silence was a constant talking point. The hunters among the Park’s population began to feel a sort of grudging respect for its expertise. Some of the young foxes harboured ideas of emulating its methods.

‘That sort of skill would make any animal the most respected of predators,’ remarked one youngster, a nephew of Friendly’s called Husky.

‘Do you admire it?’ his uncle enquired.

‘Of course. Don’t you? If I were like that I’d be the envy of all.’

‘You’d have to learn a little more quietness then,’ Friendly chaffed him. The point was not lost on his young relative who was something of a chatterer. ‘And,’ he went on, ‘can you climb trees?’

‘I can climb a bit,’ the youngster declared. ‘I’m not sure about trees.’

While this conversation was proceeding, the elders of the Farthing Wood community were meeting specifically to discuss the threat from the super-predator. The talk seemed to go round and round in circles, without anything being resolved. At last Badger, who had held his peace for most of the time, murmured, ‘I can’t help thinking of cats.’

‘What? What did you say, Badger?’ Fox asked sharply.

‘Well, you see, Fox,’ Badger went on in his rather quavery voice, ‘I’m reminded of Ginger Cat. I spent a lot
of time with him in the Warden’s home after my accident. You’ll remember that winter when I hurt my –’

‘Yes, yes,’ Fox cut in hurriedly. He knew how Badger was apt to wander off the point. ‘We all recall Ginger Cat. Now what about him?’

‘Well, the thing that struck me most about
him
was his stealth,’ Badger explained. ‘He could be so quiet in his movements, you wouldn’t know he was about. And . . . and . . . he could
climb
like anything. So I wonder if this stranger in our midst might be a cat?’

‘Oh, Badger, don’t be absurd!’ Tawny Owl scoffed. ‘How could a cat have slaughtered as this beast has done? It wouldn’t have the strength.’

‘I didn’t necessarily mean a cat like the Warden’s cat,’ Badger continued doggedly. ‘But – er – another sort of cat . . .’

Weasel said: ‘It makes sense, doesn’t it, Fox?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Fox. ‘What other sorts of cats are there?’

None of them had an answer to that.

‘It’s
not
a cat,’ Tawny Owl declared peremptorily. ‘It’s a larger animal altogether.’

‘But if it’s so large, Owl,’ Weasel said cheekily, ‘why haven’t you been able to spot it?’

Tawny Owl looked awkward. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, and shuffled his feet. ‘But Whistler looked too,’ he added quickly as if that helped his argument which, of course, it did not.

‘The fact is,’ said Toad, ‘we’re all completely in the dark. And we shall remain in the dark until one of us – or another animal – comes face to face with the creature.’

‘If that should happen, he won’t live to tell the tale,’ Fox reminded him.

‘He might – if he had wings,’ Toad suggested.

‘Wings haven’t been of much use so far,’ Whistler said. ‘Birds have been taken from their nests.’

‘Then the bird in question should remain in the air,’ Toad answered.

‘I think Toad has something,’ Vixen remarked. ‘Another search should be made. Tawny Owl and Whistler didn’t actually search the Reserve itself because the beast was believed to be outside it.’

‘Very true,’ said Fox. ‘No use looking by day, though. It keeps itself well hidden. Owl, if you were very clever and very quiet, you might catch a glimpse of it. It has to hunt.’

‘Oh, I can match the beast itself for quietness,’ Tawny Owl boasted. ‘No question of that. My flight is utterly noiseless. You see, my wing feathers –’

‘Yes, we’re all aware of your abilities,’ Weasel cut in, rather sourly.

‘Will you have another try?’ Fox asked hurriedly, before Owl reacted.

‘I certainly will,’ the bird answered at once. He was delighted to be relied upon, and flattered by Fox’s confidence in him.

‘I still think it’s a creature of the feline type,’ Badger muttered obstinately.

Tawny Owl stared at him. His hooked beak opened on a retort, but he closed it again without speaking. He would very soon prove Badger wrong about that.

The gathering began to break up, when Fox suddenly asked: ‘Has anyone seen Adder?’

It appeared that none of them had. Toad was usually the first to set eyes on him in the spring, for they often hibernated together. But even he had no idea where he was.

‘I don’t like to leave him out of our discussion,’ Fox remarked. ‘But he knows where
we
are so it’s easier for
him to seek us out.’

‘Perhaps now it’s warmer he’ll turn up soon?’ suggested Whistler.

‘Huh! I suppose he might deign to show himself,’ Weasel retorted. ‘But as time goes by Adder gets crustier and crustier or, perhaps I should say in his case, scalier and scalier.’

‘He’ll be around,’ Toad affirmed. ‘I think I know him better than you do, Weasel. You’ve always taken his offhand manner too much to heart. It’s just his way. After all, he is a snake, not a warm-blooded mammal. And I can tell you, he’s just as loyal as any of us.’

The little group split up and went about their own concerns. As it turned out, talking about Adder seemed, though quite by chance, to hasten his arrival. The very next day Vixen found him coiled up by the entrance to her earth.

‘Ah, Vixen,’ said the snake. ‘Another spring and yet you look just the same.’

Compliments from Adder were few and far between. Vixen was conscious of the unusual distinction. ‘How nice to be greeted in such a charming way,’ she said graciously. ‘And how good to see you after all this time.’

Adder uncoiled himself and slid towards her. His thin body was blunt at the tail where some time ago he had lost about two centimetres of his length in a tussle with an enemy fox.

‘The Reserve is alive with frogs, it seems,’ he remarked with his infamous leer. ‘I must try to work up an appetite and make the most of them.’ His tongue flickered in and out as he tested the air.

‘That won’t be very difficult after your long fast, I should think.’

‘Oh, my cold blood needs time to heat up properly,’ he
answered. ‘I’m always a bit sluggish at first.’

Vixen explained what had happened at the pond.

‘Yes, I’ve heard rumours,’ the snake drawled. ‘There seem to be all kinds of strange stories about. Some monster or other on the prowl, I believe?’

‘I think that’s an exaggeration,’ Vixen said. ‘But there
is
a fierce creature roaming the Park. None of us feels safe. And the worst of it is – we don’t know what this creature
looks
like.’

Fox, hearing Adder’s voice, had emerged from the earth. ‘Tawny Owl is keeping a lookout on his night travels,’ he added, after he and Adder had exchanged greetings.

‘Hm. Well, I’ve seen nothing,’ the snake said. ‘Except –’