The Animals of Farthing Wood. Colin Dann

the way. I decided to make my bed under some trees, so I scooped out a little hole in the earth, and pulled some dry leaves round me. I slept quite well during the day because, apart from the birds, no one seemed to be about.

      ‘When it was dusk I emerged again, and continued forward. After a while, the trees gave way to some open land, and ahead of me I could sense water. You can’t imagine how excited I became at that, after all those weeks without a dip. It was another bright, moonlit night, and eventually I could see a pool ahead, where the moon was reflected perfectly. As I approached I thought I could hear one or two croaks coming from the water. I realized I had not been mistaken, when the whole party of the pool’s inhabitants started croaking in unison, making a tremendous racket. It was a call I couldn’t place, unlike any I had heard before. They were obviously frogs – but what sort of frogs?

      ‘As I didn’t know if they were likely to be friendly, I approached the water’s edge cautiously, and just watched them for a while. There seemed to be quite a number of them splashing about in the centre of the pool, and some were just floating, with their heads out of the water. These were the ones making the noise. They were blowing out their cheeks like two bubbles in their efforts to croak the loudest.

      ‘After I had been there for a little while, they stopped croaking, and seemed to decide amongst themselves that it was time to leave the water. They began to make for the shore, some swimming in my direction. I stood my ground. As they clambered out, one of them called, “We’ve got a visitor. A toad.”

      ‘They all came up to have a look, remarking that they hadn’t seen me before, and that the toads who shared their pond in the spring had all been gone a week or more to make their homes on land. They made quite a fuss of me when I told them my story. They explained to me that they had just left the pond to feed, and invited me to join them.

      ‘There was no shortage of food, and we were all able to eat our fill. Although it was night-time, I was able to discover that these unusual frogs were a definite shade of green, with darker spots, and a stripe of a paler colour down the centre of the back. When we had finished eating, they asked me to join them in a swim, and I was glad to accept.

      ‘We swam out to the centre, and rested amongst the water-weed, and I took the opportunity of asking them about the park. Their spokesman was an old, fat male who seemed to be a sort of patriarch of their society. He told me the park was called White Deer Park, and it was a Nature Reserve.’

      Toad paused for effect, and there were obliging murmurs of, ‘Ah’ and ‘Of course – the Nature Reserve.’

      ‘We have heard of these Nature Reserves,’ said Badger. ‘Do they, in fact, reserve nature?’

      ‘Exactly as the name implies,’ Toad answered emphatically. ‘My friends the frogs told me all about it. A Nature Reserve is a piece of land – or water – of exceptional value and interest because of the rare animals or plants – or both – in it. There is a certain breed of human called a Naturalist, who, unlike most ordinary humans, spends his time learning about, and caring for, animals and plants. Their prime consideration is our well-being and safety. The frogs told me these Naturalists usually work in groups, and it was one of these groups that decided that their homeland, White Deer Park, was too valuable to be left unprotected. So, about three years ago, it was sealed off, designated a Reserve, and now no humans are permitted entry to it without a special pass. Even then, they may not remove any animal or plant from the Reserve whatsoever.’

      ‘It sounds wonderful,’ said Hare’s mate. ‘Peace and security all the time. No hiding. No running away. No guns!’

      ‘And that’s not all,’ Toad went on. ‘The Reserve is under the permanent care of one of the Naturalists, who is called a Warden. The animals’ health and safety is in his keeping, and he patrols the Reserve to ensure their protection.

      ‘Apparently, in the frogs’ park there is a herd of albino deer which is unique. They themselves are a colony of rare frogs, called Edible Frogs by the humans, although luckily nobody is allowed to eat them. There is also an unusual type of water-plant in their pond, and they believe one or two rare butterflies feed in the Park. But they assured me that there is also a good representation of the commoner animals, like ourselves, who live there and benefit from the protection.’

      ‘Why, it sounds like Paradise,’ breathed Badger. ‘I can’t think why you wanted to leave it.’ Fox looked at him meaningfully, and Badger went on quickly, ‘That is, of course, I understand why you did. But . . . but . . . tell me, Toad, how far is it? It’s taken you months to get here.’

      ‘It’s certainly a long way,’ agreed Toad. ‘I wouldn’t deny it. I spent a week with the frogs, and then explained to them that I had to go on. Of course, they understood perfectly.’

      ‘Is it a large park?’ asked Fox.

      ‘One of the frogs told me that he’d heard it was about five hundred acres, which, as you can imagine, would more than hold all of Farthing Wood! And I mean the old wood – as it used to be.

      ‘Anyway, it took about another week to cross the park completely. Then, every day after that, I pressed on, never staying in one place more than a day. I travelled mostly in the dark hours, finding a convenient hiding-place during the day-time. I ate what I could on the move . . . and so the weeks went on. I must tell you that I was constantly buoyed up by the thought that every day, every step or hop, brought me nearer to my friends.’

      ‘Good old Toad,’ said Badger under his breath.

      ‘When I noticed the weather was beginning to get colder I tried to hurry. I could sense there wasn’t a tremendous distance left, and I wanted to get home before the winter really arrived. But I knew if I didn’t eat properly, and the winter overtook me, I would die. So I compromised, I kept on going, but at a more leisurely pace, eating as much as I could find every night. Finally, I knew it was time to hibernate. The other frogs and toads, and lizards too, that I had encountered during the previous week or so, had been looking for a comfortable roost, and I found one on some farm land.

      ‘I chose a grassy bank, by a ditch where there was plenty of cover. Food was becoming scarce by now, and I spent all day picking up what I could. Then, as night was approaching, I dug myself a nice hole under a large stone, and settled into that. It was really quite cold by then, and I felt so sleepy that I went out like a light as soon as I closed my eyes.

      ‘Well, there I stayed until the warm spell at the beginning of March woke me up, and then I had a good meal at an ants’ nest, and set off again. And . . . the rest you know, really.’

      ‘A brave fellow indeed,’ remarked Badger warmly.

      ‘Very courageous,’ agreed Weasel.

      ‘What tremendous perseverance!’ commented Fox. ‘I’ve always admired you toads for that. Once started on something, you just won’t be diverted!’

      ‘I’d do it again, gladly, if you’d all come with me,’ said Toad stoutly.

      ‘That’s fighting talk!’ cried Badger. ‘How about it, everyone? Shall Toad be our guide to a new home?’

      ‘And a fresh start for everybody,’ Toad added, ‘away from the threat we’ve been living under here for so long?’

      There was a deafening chorus of agreement.

      ‘Then it’s farewell to Farthing Wood?’

      There were more shouts of approval. The animals were excited now.

      ‘Better to say, “Welcome to White Deer Park”,’ said Mole.

      ‘Now Mole, don’t get carried away,’ said Badger kindly. ‘We haven’t even taken our first step yet, you know.’

      Mole grinned contritely. Badger looked around the chamber.

      ‘Are there any dissenters?’ he asked formally, and studied every individual face. There was no reply.

      ‘Then I take it as unanimous. We go to White Deer Park!’