Read The Siege of White Deer Park Online
Authors: Colin Dann
The Siege of White Deer Park
About the Book
‘
It’s horrible, just waiting around for this . . . this
Something
to make an appearance
.’
Terror has come to White Deer Park, driving panic-stricken animals before it. A killer beast is on the loose – a predator so silent and skilful that it leaves almost no trace, and had never been seen.
As the deaths mount up, Owl, Fox, Badger and the elders of the animals of Farthing Wood meet to make a plan. They have survived so many threats before, but have they finally met their match?
Another gripping adventure of the animals of Farthing Wood by award-winning author Colin Dann.
For Sarah, Rachael, Davidand Ruth
In the Nature Reserve of White Deer Park the animals were looking forward to the bustle of Spring. It was the end of February and dead Winter’s grasp was loosening little by little with each spell of sunshine. The survivors of the band of beasts and birds who had travelled to the haven of the Park from their destroyed home in Farthing Wood had passed their third winter in the confines of the Reserve. Only a few still survived. The short life spans of most had run their course. But now their descendants populated the Park, and they knew no other home. These voles and mice, hedgehogs, rabbits and hares mingled and mated as natives with others of their kind whose
forefathers had always lived within the Park’s boundaries. Yet they were still conscious of a sort of allegiance to the few stalwarts of the old Farthing Wood community who remained alive.
Foremost among these were the Farthing Wood Fox and his mate Vixen, venerated almost as mythical beings to whom the animals turned for advice and counsel. They were the doyens of the Park’s inhabitants, along with the aged Great Stag who was still supreme among the deer herd. Fox’s oldest companion, Badger, was also a counsellor who tried to promote harmony between birds and beasts where it was feasible within their own natural order. Badger was very ancient now and never strayed far from his own set. He was slow, dim-sighted and rather feeble, but his kindly ways made him, if less respected, more loved even than Fox.
Tawny Owl, Adder, Toad, Weasel and Whistler the heron still lived and were occasional companions of Badger’s extreme old age. But the old creature missed Mole, who had been his special friend. Mole’s offspring – the result of his union with Mirthful, a female born in the Reserve – tended to live their own lives. So Badger suffered the loss of the wonderful bond that had existed between the two underground dwellers. Mole’s allotted span of existence had reached its end during the winter. As he had lived, so he died – underground. His home had become his grave, and his tiny body went unnoticed in the labyrinth of tunnels. But he was remembered and mourned.
The descendants of Fox and Vixen now stretched almost to the fourth generation, for in the spring the cubs of their grandchildren would be born. From their own first litter Friendly and Charmer survived. Their cub Bold, who had left the Reserve and died outside it, had mated with Whisper who had journeyed to the Park for
the safe birth of her own offspring. Now they, too, would become parents. So each season the Farthing Wood lineage was extended.
Badger and Tawny Owl had never paired off in their second home. They were too old and set in their ways – at least, so they said. As for Adder, who vanished altogether for long periods – well, no one was quite sure about him . . .
It was dusk on one of the last days of February when the first signs of some strange influence in their lives appeared to one of the old comrades from Farthing Wood. Tawny Owl had been quartering the Park’s boundaries where these adjoined the open downland. He noticed an unusual number of rabbits converging on a hole scraped under part of the fencing. The timid animals were jostling and bumping each other in their attempts to reach this entrance to the Reserve before their fellows.
‘Hm,’ mused Owl. ‘This is odd. What’s their hurry, I wonder?’ He was not thinking of the possibilities for himself in this sudden abundance of food. His first thought was for the cause of their fright. He flew out of the Park a little way, following the rabbits’ trail backwards – all of the time expecting to discover what was driving them. But he saw nothing, however much his night eyes scanned the ground.
‘
Something
scared them,’ he murmured to himself. ‘Yet why haven’t they dived for their burrows?’ Tawny Owl knew all about the behaviour of rabbits.
He flew back and hooted a question at them. ‘What’s all the fuss about?’
Some of the animals looked up but, when they saw the owl, they scuttled ahead even faster. They were certainly not going to stop still to talk to a hunter! And, by the time Tawny Owl remembered his stomach, they had disappeared
into the undergrowth.
He perched in an ash tree and pondered, his great round eyes staring unseeingly through the bare branches. He rustled his brown wings.
‘No point brooding on it,’ he muttered. ‘Things reveal themselves eventually.’ He flew off on his noiseless flight into the gathering darkness.
A few days later, again in the evening, Fox and Vixen were emerging from their den to go foraging. In the winter months there was often carrion to be found and recently they had been subsisting chiefly on that. Fox paused as a clatter of wings broke the stillness of their home wood.
‘Pigeons,’ he remarked.
But there were other noises. Birds’ cries, and the sounds of sudden movements in the tree-tops as many took to flight, made the pair of foxes listen intently. There was a general disturbance that went on for some minutes.
‘The whole wood’s been alarmed,’ said Vixen. She stayed close to her bolt-hole in case of trouble.
Fox gazed fixedly at the night sky. At last he said: ‘I think I see what it is.’
Vixen waited for him to explain. He was still looking up through the fretwork of naked branches.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Well – what?’ Vixen prompted, a little impatiently.
‘There are a lot of birds flying in from beyond the Park. They seem to be wheeling about, uncertain where to go. They must have unsettled those at roost here.’
‘They sound very panicky,’ Vixen observed.
The foxes watched a while longer. Eventually many of the birds from outside found perches in the Reserve.
Others flew onwards, and gradually quietness was restored. Fox and Vixen went on their way.
Occurrences such as these became more frequent in the ensuing weeks. All the inhabitants of the Park became aware that something, as yet unknown, was bringing change to their little world. Animals from all over the countryside came flooding into the Park. Sometimes the creatures stayed; sometimes they passed right through or overhead; sometimes they returned again whence they had come. But it was obvious that the wildlife around was in a state of real alarm, and these continual movements to and fro brought an atmosphere of disquiet to the Nature Reserve. Weasel, running through the carpet of Dog’s Mercury under the beech trees, noticed a sudden increase in the numbers of wood mice. These mice appeared to have thrown their inbred caution to the winds – most of them were running about quite openly, inviting themselves to be taken. Weasel was not one to refuse the offer and he had quite a field day or, rather, night. It was only later that he realized that the mice had been thrown into a state of panic by the arrival of dozens of hunting stoats and weasels like himself, who were closing in on their quarry from every direction. The poor mice simply did not know where to run next. But where had these hunting cousins of his suddenly appeared from? They were certainly not the ordinary inhabitants of White Deer Park.
Squirrel and his relatives found themselves competing for their hoards of autumn-buried acorns and beech mast with strangers from elsewhere who watched where they dug and stole where they could.
Hare’s first-born, Leveret, who was still called so by his Farthing Wood friends from old association (though he
had for long now been an adult) saw more of his own kind running through the dead grass and bracken than he had ever done since his arrival in White Deer Park.
Finally the friends began to gather to compare their opinions. It was now March and a shimmer of green was slowly spreading through the Park. New grass, tentative leaves on hawthorn and hazel, and ripening sycamore and chestnut buds gave glad signs to the animals that Winter was over. But they were puzzled and a little worried by the recent influxes.
‘Where do they come from?’ asked Squirrel.
‘What’s bringing them here?’ asked Leveret.
Badger had no comment to make. He was only acquainted with the facts by hearsay. He had seen nothing himself.
‘It’s as if they’ve been driven here,’ Tawny Owl said.
Fox had been doing a lot of thinking. ‘You could be right, Owl,’ he remarked. ‘Birds and beasts are being driven here to the Reserve in the hope of shelter and then –’
‘Finding themselves cornered?’ Vixen broke in.
‘Exactly! Then they’d be ripe for rounding up. It’s like part of a deliberate plan by some clever creature.’
‘Or creatures,’ Weasel observed.
‘Yes,’ said Fox. ‘It couldn’t be just one. Unless . . .’
‘Unless of the human variety,’ finished Whistler the heron drily.
‘Wouldn’t make sense,’ Tawny Owl contradicted him. ‘What purpose could there be in this for Man?’
‘How should we know?’ asked Friendly, Fox’s son. ‘Who else is so clever?’
‘I don’t like this rounding up idea,’ Leveret said nervously. ‘It stands to reason –
we’d
be caught up in it too.’
They fell silent while they digested the implications of this.
‘From what you say, Fox,’ Badger wheezed, ‘it sounds as if some animal or other is planning to use the Park as a sort of larder.’
Fox looked at him. ‘You’ve gone straight to the point, Badger. But what sort of creature . . .’ he muttered inconclusively.
‘A sort of creature
we
know nothing about,’ said Owl.
‘The deer are very uneasy,’ put in Vixen. ‘You can tell they sense something.’
‘It’s horrible waiting around,’ said Charmer, her daughter, ‘for this . . . this . . .
Something
to make an appearance. There are young to be born and looked after.’
‘We mustn’t get too jittery,’ said Fox. ‘Perhaps there
is
no “Something”. There might be a more simple explanation. And a less alarming one.’ But he could not convince himself.
Tawny Owl said, ‘We mustn’t fool ourselves either, Fox. We should prepare for the worst.’