Fox's Feud (2 page)

‘It seems,’ began Fox, ‘that one or two of you have noticed an undercurrent of – er – unfriendliness running through some of White Deer Park’s inhabitants. Now we don’t want to find ourselves looked upon as intruders, and I wanted to caution you all to be particularly careful in your behaviour towards the native animals in the future – until things seem quieter again.’

‘The Park animals seem to think we have encroached rather on their territory, I believe,’ Rabbit remarked.

‘That could be true in the case of you rabbits,’ suggested Weasel wryly. ‘There are so many more of you
now than there were when we arrived at the Reserve last summer, despite your losses during the winter.’

Some of the animals laughed but Rabbit was not amused. ‘We’re not the only ones to have increased our numbers,’ he said indignantly. ‘What about the hedgehogs? And Toad left his mark in the pond. Even Fox and Vixen now have a family.’

‘No offence meant, Rabbit,’ Weasel assured him. ‘But I think you might have been right about the question of territory. There
are
certain rights respecting that, after all.’

‘Humph! Lot of nonsense!’ snorted Tawny Owl. ‘Plenty of space for everyone. There aren’t that many of us.’

‘Have you encountered any difficulties, Toad?’ Fox asked him.

‘No, no,’ Toad shook his head. ‘Of course, the frogs have known me a long time,’ he said, referring to his first visit to the Park. ‘They accept me in their pond with the utmost friendliness but, you see, I don’t see many of the other creatures. My small legs don’t carry me so far as some of you larger fellows.’

The animals chortled at this remark of Toad’s, recalling the epic journey he had made alone from White Deer Park across miles of country to return to his home pond in Farthing Wood.

He smiled at their mirth. ‘Well, my travelling days are done now, anyhow,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t relish the prospect of our moving to a third home.’

‘No question of it,’ Fox assured him hurriedly. ‘White Deer Park is our home now. It’s a Nature Reserve and we’ve as much right to be protected as those that were born here.’

‘Well said, Fox,’ murmured the sardonic Adder, ‘and
may I say, from one carnivore to another, I find the irony delicious.’

Fox looked somewhat embarrassed at this unexpected comment, but Badger came to his rescue.

‘It’s the Law of Nature, Adder,’ he reminded him, ‘and that is unalterable. We can’t all be grass-eaters.’

‘Of course not,’ drawled Adder, ‘especially when there are so much choicer items available.’ He leered at the mice, who ignored him totally. They knew perfectly well their common Farthing Wood background meant they were quite safe from the snake’s intentions, and that he seemed to feel that such remarks were expected of him.

Hare said: ‘My surviving youngster has grown up here. Leveret barely remembers Farthing Wood, so he’s far more familiar with the Park’s surroundings. The native hares seem to look upon him almost as if he, too, had been born here. He certainly mixes quite freely.’

‘I wonder if there are any grounds for apprehension at all,’ Kestrel remarked airily.

‘Not in your case, certainly,’ Vole rasped. ‘You spend more time patrolling the countryside outside the Park than you do within its confines.’

‘Have you ever thought there might be a reason for that?’ Kestrel chided him gently. ‘If I always hunted inside the Park, there is a very great danger that some time I might kill the wrong vole or fieldmouse. Small creatures like you look very alike when I’m hovering high up in the sky.’

‘That had certainly occurred to
me
,’ Fieldmouse assented. ‘But, well, you know Vole doesn’t always see things so clearly.’

‘I must apologize, Kestrel,’ Vole said contritely. ‘I should have realized you had our interests at heart.’

‘Well, well, no harm done,’ said Badger the peacemaker.
‘Er – is there any more to be said, Fox? This wind is beginning to get very chilly.’

‘No more for the present, I think,’ said Fox. ‘We must all be on our guard for a bit, that’s all. I think we should all remain in our corner of the Park for the time being also. That way, if anyone needs to raise the alarm at any time we are in a position to act together quickly.’

At this point Whistler the heron flexed his great wings, producing the familiar shrill sound as the air rushed through the bullet-hole in his damaged one. ‘Perhaps a few more of you should have done as I,’ he announced in his lugubrious tones, ‘and mated with a member of the indigenous population. There can be no swifter way of achieving acceptance amongst a foreign community.’

About three weeks after the meeting in the Hollow, the fox cubs could be seen playing with their parents in the spring sunshine outside their earth. One day Tawny Owl was watching them, sleepily, from a nearby willow tree. He noticed that, although none of them strayed far from a convenient bolt-hole to the den, one cub was slightly more adventurous in his wanderings. His small, chocolate brown body was cobby and healthy looking, as indeed were those of his brother and sisters, but his infant frame seemed to be just a little stouter.

‘He’s going to be a bold young fellow,’ Tawny Owl mused to himself. ‘Never still for a moment. Now the others are quite happy to sit at times, and just enjoy the warmth of the sun on their bodies.’ He chuckled at their antics. ‘Yes, one in particular seems very fond of that.’

Vixen spotted the bird half-dozing on the branch. ‘Won’t you join us, Owl?’ she invited. ‘Or are you too sleepy?’.

‘Nothing of the kind, nothing of the kind,’ Tawny Owl
replied huffily and promptly flew to the ground.

Fox greeted him cheerfully. ‘Glad to see you, Owl,’ he said. ‘Well, it looks as if our fears were groundless. Old Scarface has not been near recently.’

‘No. I expect he’s occupied in much the same way as you at present,’ Tawny Owl observed knowingly.

‘Oh? Is he a father again?’ Fox asked quickly.

‘Oh yes. His mate produced three cubs about the same time as Vixen.’

‘Have you seen them?’ Vixen wanted to know.

‘Not yet,’ replied the bird. ‘I don’t venture over to that section of the Park since our agreement in the Hollow. However,’ he added archly, ‘I’m sure they couldn’t be as delightful as yours, dear Vixen.’

‘Oh, flatterer!’ she laughed. ‘This one we call Charmer actually.’ She indicated one of the female cubs. ‘She has very winning ways. Her sister is Dreamer.’

‘Very appropriate,’ agreed Tawny Owl, noticing the cub thus named was the one he had singled out from his perch. ‘And the others?’

‘The big male cub is Bold,’ Fox told him with more than a hint of pride in his voice. ‘But we haven’t as yet found anything quite applicable to describe his brother.’

‘I daresay it’ll suggest itself before long,’ said Tawny Owl.

‘Oh yes,’ Vixen agreed. ‘They all have their own personalities.’

At that moment the cub in question chose to investigate the family’s visitor and approached the owl, wagging his little tail.

‘Already as big as me,’ Tawny Owl said with amusement. The little cub sat down directly next to him and commenced to sniff him all over. Finally he lay down over Tawny Owl’s talons and sighed deeply.

‘I think this one’s just named himself,’ the owl
remarked. ‘At any rate, I shall call him Friendly.’

‘An excellent name,’ Fox assented. ‘Don’t you think so, dear?’

Vixen nodded happily. There seemed to be nothing that could disturb the peace of such a perfect day. For a while longer Tawny Owl watched the cubs playing and then, finding it increasingly difficult to stifle his yawns, he made an excuse and flew back to his tree for a long nap before dark.

At dusk he awoke with a start to see a familiar shape skulking in the shadows. The scarfaced fox had evidently decided to resume his reconnaisance.

‘What on earth is he up to?’ Tawny Owl muttered to himself, as he watched the animal pause at one of the entrances to Fox’s earth. ‘He’s listening for something, I’ll be bound.’

The beast stood motionless, head cocked at an angle, for some moments. Then he sniffed carefully all round the entrance and listened again. Finally he moved slowly off into the darkness.

Tawny Owl was puzzled. ‘Very curious,’ he commented.

He was still cogitating when Fox emerged from the earth and paused while he, too, sniffed the air. Then he looked up towards the willow. ‘Are you there, Owl?’ he called.

‘Yes.’ Tawny Owl alighted on the ground beside him.

‘Have you seen anything?’ Fox asked him.

‘Scarface has been back.’ Tawny Owl described his movements.

‘I knew it. I smelt him.’

‘He must have detected
your
scent,’ Tawny Owl surmised, ‘and then decided to go back.’

‘Exactly. Had I been out hunting . . .’ The friends exchanged glances.

‘You can rely on me,’ declared Tawny Owl. ‘I’ll see no harm’s done.’

‘But, with all due respect, would you be a match for such a tough customer?’ Fox queried hesitantly.

‘Vixen and I together could deal with him, if necessary,’ the bird assured him. ‘And, in any case, it may not come to anything. Perhaps it’s just harmless curiosity?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Fox. ‘But I don’t like it. His secretiveness . . .’

‘Are you hunting tonight?’ Tawny Owl asked him.

‘No. I’ll stay put this time. But tomorrow I must. And then . . .?’

‘Maybe we’ll learn a little more about our interested visitor,’ said Tawny Owl coolly. ‘As for now, I think I’ll pay a call on Badger. We don’t want him to feel he’s being left out of anything.’

The next night was clear and crisp, with a bright half moon. Tawny Owl was in position on the willow branch well before dark, and Badger joined him at the foot of the tree, concealed in a clump of bracken.

When it was quite dark, Fox quitted his earth to go hunting. He gave no sign of any kind that he was aware of his friends’ presence. They saw him trot nonchalantly away in the moonlight.

For some time all was quiet. Badger shivered once or twice in the chill evening air and wished he could move about a bit. Neither he nor Tawny Owl spoke. A breeze began to whisper through the leaves of the willow, and with it another faint sound – a regular pattering sound.
Footsteps! Badger tensed under the bracken. The noise came nearer . . . pitter patter, pitter patter . . . and then a long, dog-like shadow was visible on the ground. The pattering ceased. Out into the moonlight came the scarfaced fox, treading very slowly and carefully towards the main entrance to the cubs’ den.

By the opening he stopped again and looked all round warily, snuffling the air. For a moment he looked towards the spot where Badger was hidden. The moon shone full on his face, scarred and hideous from a score of battles. Despite himself, Badger’s stout old heart missed a beat. Then the animal turned again and lowered himself to creep stealthily into the hole.

At once, Tawny Owl glided noiselessly down from his perch, and Badger rushed forward. Scarface sprang back.

‘You’ve no reason to go in there,’ said Tawny Owl. ‘What exactly is your game?’

‘I’m not accountable to you,’ snarled the fox, angry at being detected unawares.

‘But you’re accountable to the inhabitants of the den who, to my knowledge, have not invited your presence.’

‘A social call from one fox to another is no concern of a bird’s,’ Scarface sneered.

‘It is in this instance,’ Tawny Owl informed him calmly, ‘as I was specifically requested to keep watch for intruders.’

‘Intruders?’ snapped Scarface. ‘Intruders? How dare you talk to me of intruders. I’ve lived in this Park all my life –
and
my kind with me. I’ve more right to enter this earth than those who are already in it – cubs or no cubs.’

‘Just because you were born here doesn’t mean you own the Park, you know.’ Badger spoke for the first time. ‘There’s more than enough room for everyone to live comfortably without any interference being called for.
We
all lost our original homes thanks to human intervention,
and we came here for the very reason that it was safe from human hands.’

‘Yes, yes, we’ve all heard about your heroic journey from Farthing Wood,’ the fox said sarcastically. ‘I was at the reception party when you arrived, just like everyone else. The Park could absorb
your
numbers rightly enough. But now you’ve started breeding . . .’

‘Some of us have,’ Badger corrected him. ‘I myself have no mate. Neither does Tawny Owl here. But you’ve nothing to fear from our party. We like to keep ourselves to ourselves.’

‘You have to eat, don’t you? I’m sure you don’t leave the Park every time you go hunting.’

‘Of course not,’ replied Tawny Owl imperturbably. ‘Do you?’

Scarface bristled with anger again. ‘The whole of this Reserve is my hunting territory,’ he seethed. ‘From time immemorial my ancestors lived and hunted here, long before it was fenced off by humans, or even had a name. When it was still wild and unchecked countryside, they roamed here freely. And it will always be that way. My cubs will hunt here after me, and their cubs after them . . .’

‘And so on ad infinitum,’ Tawny Owl remarked drolly.

Scarface looked at him dangerously, baring his fangs. Badger quailed slightly, though Tawny Owl stood his ground. In slow, menacing tones Scarface said: ‘No other family of foxes will be allowed the freedom of the Park. Tell your gallant leader to stay in his own quarter if he values the safety of his mate and her cubs. My family is large: I have many dependents. Don’t let him think he can outwit me. I’ve lived many years and I’ve yet to be bested.’ With a final snarl, he loped off into the shadows.