Colin Dann - The Animals of Farthing Wood

‘We could try!’ piped up one of the fieldmice.

‘Of course you could, and you would be very brave to do so,’ said Badger kindly. ‘But that would only be one journey. If this drought continues we’ll all have to make several journeys to drink what we need.’

‘The only suggestion I can make,’ said Hare, ‘is for the larger animals to carry the smaller – as many as we can manage.’

‘Yesss,’ drawled Adder. ‘I could carry several little mice and voles in my jaws, and I should be so gentle, they wouldn’t feel a thing.’ His tongue flickered excitedly. ‘I should so enjoy carrying the plump ones,’ he went on dreamily. ‘And Owl could manage a young rabbit or two in his talons, couldn’t you, Owl?’

‘You’re not looking at the situation in at all the right frame of mind, Adder,’ admonished Badger, looking with some sympathy at the smaller animals, who were huddling together as far away from Adder as they could manage without actually bolting into the tunnel. ‘You’re merely thinking, as usual,’ he went on, ‘of a way in which you can benefit personally from it. I know what you’re thinking, and it won’t do. It won’t do at all. We’re a community, facing a dangerous crisis. You know the Oath.’

‘Just a suggestion,’ hissed Adder, with a scarcely disguised leer. He was quite undismayed by the effect his words had had on the fieldmice and voles.

‘Now calm down, mice,’ soothed Badger. ‘Calm down, rabbits. You’ll come to no harm in my set.’

When the Assembly appeared to be more relaxed again, one of the squirrels said, ‘Couldn’t we dig for water?’

Badger looked towards Mole. The latter shook his black velvet head. ‘No, I don’t think it’s really possible,’ he said. ‘We’d only be wasting our energy, I’m afraid.’

There was silence then, while every animal cudgelled his brains for a way out of the difficulty. The seconds ticked past.

Suddenly, a voice was heard calling from the passage outside. ‘Hallo! Who’s there? Who’s there?’

Weasel ran to the tunnel. ‘I can see something moving,’ he said. Then he called out, ‘This is Weasel! The other animals are here, too . . . Good Heavens, it’s Toad!’ he exclaimed.

‘I’ve been looking all over the place for everyone,’ said the newcomer, as he stumbled into the Chamber. ‘I’ve been so worried: I thought you’d all deserted the wood. Then I heard voices.’ He sat down to regain his breath. ‘And I noticed the lights.’

‘Toad, whatever happened to you?’ Badger cried, as all the animals gathered round him. ‘We’d given you up for lost. Wherever have you been? We haven’t seen you since last spring. And you’re so thin! My dear chap, tell us what has happened.’

‘I . . . I’ve been on a long journey,’ Toad said. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve got my breath back.’

‘Have you had anything to eat recently?’ Badger asked with concern.

‘Oh yes – I’m not hungry,’ he replied. ‘Just tired.’

The heaving of his speckled chest gradually quietened as he recovered from his exertions. The other animals waited patiently for him to begin. He looked wearily round his audience.

‘I was captured, you know,’ he explained. ‘It happened last spring, at the pond. They . . . they took me a long way away – oh! miles away! I thought I would never see any of you again.’

He paused, and some of the animals made soothing, sympathetic noises.

‘Eventually, though, I managed to escape,’ Toad went on. ‘I was lucky. Of course, I knew I had to make my way back here – to the pond where I was born. So I started out that very day. And ever since, except during the winter months, I’ve managed to get a little nearer: little by little, mile by mile, covering as much ground as I was able to each day.’

Fox looked at Badger, and Badger nodded sadly.

‘Toad, old fellow, I . . . I’m afraid there’s bad news for you,’ Fox said with difficulty. ‘Very bad news.’

Toad looked up quickly. ‘What . . . what is it?’ he faltered.

‘Your pond has gone. They’ve filled it in!’

3

Toad’s story

Toad looked at Fox with an expression of disbelieving horror. ‘But . . . but . . . they couldn’t!’ he whispered. ‘I was born there. My parents were born there . . . and all my relatives, and acquaintances. And every spring we have a reunion. Toads all around leave their land homes and make for their birthplace. They couldn’t take that away from us!’ He looked pathetically from one sad face to another, almost compelling someone to deny this awful piece of information; but he received no answer.

‘Filled all of it in? Is it . . . quite gone?’ Toad’s voice shook.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Badger mumbled. ‘But, you know, there was very little left of it really. With this drought the water had nearly all dried up anyway.’ He knew his words were of no comfort.

‘What about the other toads?’ Toad asked hoarsely.

‘I think they had probably left the pond before this happened,’ Fox said encouragingly. ‘After all, it is May now . . .’

‘Yes, yes,’ Toad agreed morosely. ‘I’m late. It’s not spring any more, really. Not what we toads call spring.’

‘This drought,’ Badger rejoined, ‘is a danger for all of us. That’s why I called this Assembly. There’s no water left, Toad. None anywhere in Farthing Wood. We just don’t know what to do.’

Toad did not reply. His downcast face took on a new expression. He looked considerably more hopeful. ‘I’ve got it!’ he exclaimed excitedly. ‘We’ll leave! All of us! If I could do it, so can all of you!’

‘Leave Farthing Wood?’ Badger queried with some alarm. ‘How could we? What do you mean?’

‘Yes, yes! Let me explain.’ Toad stood up in his excitement. ‘I know the very place to go to. Oh, it’s miles away, of course. But I’m sure we could manage it, together!’

The other animals began to chatter all at once, and Badger completely failed to quieten them.

‘We must face the facts!’ Toad cried. ‘What you’ve just told me about the pond has brought our danger home to me with a jolt. Farthing Wood is finished; in another couple of years it won’t even exist. We must all find a new home. Now – before it’s too late!’

The other voices broke off. Toad’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘The Nature Reserve,’ he announced dramatically. ‘We shall all go to the Nature Reserve, where we can live in peace again. And I shall be your guide.’ He looked round triumphantly.

‘Dear, dear! I don’t know.’ Badger shook his striped head. ‘You’d better tell us all about it, Toad. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. If it’s so far . . .’

‘Go on, Toad,’ Fox broke in. ‘Tell us about your adventure, right from the beginning.’

Toad sank back into his accustomed comfortable squat, and cleared his throat.

‘You’ll recall how last spring was very warm – in March particularly,’ he began. ‘Well, one weekend there were a tremendous number of humans at the pond; young ones with their horrible nets and glass jars – and a lot of them had brought their parents along. Everything in the pond was in a panic; there seemed to be no escape anywhere. The young humans were even wading out nearly to the middle of the pond in their eagerness to capture us. I remember I dived underwater and tried to hide in the mud on the bottom. So did a lot of others. But it was no use. They found me; and I was prodded into a jam-jar and carried away.’

‘How awful for you,’ one of the lizards commiserated. ‘They come after us, too, with those stifling glass jars that are made specially slippery, so that you can hardly grip the bottom.’