One day when they were out at feed our Pricket caught sight of a
little brown bird with a full dozen of little chicks cheeping all
round her; and as he was always anxious to make new friends he trotted
up to scrape acquaintance with the stranger. But what was his
astonishment when the little bird fluffed out her wings and flew at
him.
"You dare to touch mun," she said furiously, "you dare to touch mun,
and I'll peck out the eyes of 'ee."
"But, my dear soul," he said, "I won't do you any harm."
"Oh, beg your pardon," said the little bird, "I didn't see who it was,
and I made sure that it was one of they sheep-dogs. But I don't mind
ever to have seen one of you here; I thought you belonged farther down
the valley."
"But I come from the moor," he said.
"I ha'n't never been on the moor," said the little bird, "but there's
more of 'ee down the valley, at least I think there be, for, begging
your honour's pardon, I don't rightly know who you be. Do 'ee want to
know the way? Then follow down the river till you'm clear of the woods
and then turn up over the fields, till you see another wood, and that
will bring 'ee to the place where your friends be. And I beg your
honour's pardon for mistaking your honour for a sheep-dog, for I've
never seen the like of you before, but they sheep-dogs do worry us
poor Partridges terrible."
And she bustled away with her Chicks. But the Pricket was so much
excited to hear of other Deer that he entreated his mother to go where
the Partridge had told them. And they went just as she had said, over
the fields and into the wood that she spoke of, but to their
disappointment saw no sign of a deer there. So they passed on through
the wood to the valley again, and then they came to a park with the
river running through it, and great trees bigger than he had ever
seen, beech and oak and lime and chestnut, some in rows and some in
clumps, a beautiful expanse of green, all dripping in the morning dew.
And there the Pricket saw deer, and he was so delighted that he ran
on by himself to speak to them; but he was puzzled, for some of them
were black, and some were white, and some were red, and the greater
part were spotted; while not one was near so big as he was, though
many of them had growing horns as big as his own and bigger. So he
made sure that they must all be calves with some new description of
horn, and going up to the biggest of them he said rather
patronisingly, "Good morning, my little friend."
But the other turned round and said, "Little friend! Do you know who I
am, sir? I am the Master-Buck of this park, sir, and I'll trouble you
not to call me your little friend."
"But why don't you come to the woods and on to the moor?" said the
Pricket, astonished. "I've never seen you there."
"Did you hear me say that I was the Master-Buck of this park, sir?"
said the Fallow-Buck, "and do you know what that means? I am lord of
the whole of this herd, and master of everything inside this
park-fence. What do I want with woods and moors, when I have all this
beautiful green park for a kingdom, and all this grass to feed on in
the summer, and hay, sir, hay brought to me in the winter? Do you get
hay brought to you in the winter, sir?"
"Why," broke in the Pricket, "do you mean to say that you can't feed
yourself?"
But here the Hind trotted up and fetched her son away. "They are only
miserable little tame Fallow-Deer," she said. "You should never have
lowered yourself to speak to them."
"No, mother," he answered; "but fancy preferring to live in a wretched
little park instead of wandering free through the woods and over the
moor! Do let me go back and thrash him."
But when the Fallow-Buck heard this he trotted away as quick as he
could; and mother and son went back into the wood. And as they entered
it a very handsome bird with a grey back and a rosy breast and bright
blue on his wings fluttered over their heads screeching at the top of
his voice. "Come in," he said, "please to come right in. But we Jays
be put here to scritch when any stranger cometh into the wood, and
scritch I must and scritch I shall." And certainly he did, in a most
unpleasant tone, for he had been watching a brood of another bird's
chicks instead of minding his proper business, and so had missed them
when they first came in. So he screeched double to make up for lost
time.
Then presently there came towards them another bird, walking very
daintily on the ground. He had a green neck and bright red round his
eyes, and a coat which shone like burnished copper mixed with
burnished gold. He stopped as they came up, and waiting till the
Pricket had wandered a little way from his mother, he went up to him
and said in a very patronising tone: "Welcome, young sir, welcome to
my wood. I have not the pleasure of knowing who you are, but my name I
expect is familiar to you. Phasianus Colchicus, ahem--" and he
strutted about with great importance. "You have heard of me, no
doubt."
"I am afraid not," said the Pricket very civilly. "You see, I come
from the moor. But I thought that I saw one or two birds like you as
we passed through this wood."
"Like me," said the bird suspiciously; "are you quite sure that they
were like me, like me in every way?"
"Well," said the Pricket hesitating, "they had pretty white rings
round their necks--?"
"What!" broke in the bird, "rings round their necks, and like me! Oh,
the ignorance of young people nowadays. My dear young friend, you have
a great deal to learn. Have I a white ring round my neck? No. Well,
now I must ask your pardon if I turn my back upon you for one moment."
And round he turned very slowly and ceremoniously and stood with his
back to the Pricket, who stared at it not knowing what to say.
"Well," said the bird, looking over his shoulder after a time. "You
make no remark. Is it possible that you notice nothing? My dear young
friend, let me ask you, do you see any green on my back?"
"No," said the Pricket, and honestly he did not.
"So," said the bird very tragically. "Look well at that back, for you
will never see such another again, my young friend. I am one of the
old English breed, the last of my race, the last of those that, coming
centuries ago from the banks of the Phasis, made England their home
and were, I may venture to say, her greatest ornament. But now a
miserable race of Chinese birds has come in, and go where I will I see
nothing but white-ringed necks and hideous green backs. My very
children, now no more, took them for wives and husbands, and I alone
am left of the old pure breed, the last of the true Pheasants, the
last king of this famous wood, the last and the greatest--bless me,
what's that? Kok, kok, kok, kok, kok." Thereupon he flipped up into a
larch-tree and began at the top of his voice: "You wretched creature,
how often have I forbidden you the woods? Go home and catch mice, go
home. My dear young friend, let me entreat you to drive that wretch
away."
And the Pricket looking round saw a little black and white Cat
slinking through the wood close by, a thing he had never seen before
and did not at all like the sight of. She took not the least notice of
the Pheasant till the Hind trotted down through the covert and said
very sternly: "Go home, Pussy, go home. How dare you come out into the
woods? Take care, or you'll come to a bad end." And the Cat ran away
as fast as she could; and I may as well say that she did come to a bad
end the very next week, for she was caught in a trap and knocked on
the head, which last is the fate of all poaching cats sooner or later.
So if ever you own a cat, be careful to keep it at home.
"Ah!" said the old Cock-Pheasant, much relieved, as the Cat
disappeared. "Is that your mother, my young friend? What an excellent
person! You must introduce me some day, but really at this moment I
feel quite unfit to leave this tree."
So they left him sitting in the larch tree, not looking at all kingly,
and wandered about the wood, finding it very much to their liking; for
there was dry ground and wet ground, sunny beds and shady beds, warm
places and cool places, and great quiet and repose. And that is why
all wild animals love Bremridge Wood and always have loved it.
Now some days after they had made their home there, the Pricket became
troubled with a good deal of itching in the velvet on his head. He
shook his head violently, but this did no good except to make the
velvet fall down in little strips, so at last he picked out a neat
little ash-tree and rubbed and scrubbed and frayed till all the velvet
fell to the ground, and he was left with a clean little pair of smooth
white horns. At this he was so pleased with himself that he must needs
go down to the river to look at himself in the water; and after that
he could not be satisfied till he had passed through the deer-park to
let the Fallow-Deer see him. But here he was a little abashed, for the
horns of the Bucks were many of them much bigger than his own, though
flat, like your hand, and, as he thought, not nearly so handsome.
The Hind now became restless and inclined to wander, so that they went
the round of all the woods in the neighbourhood; and thus it was that
one day they came upon ground covered with rhododendrons, and azaleas,
and tall pine-trees of a kind that they had never seen before. They
would hardly have ventured upon it if they had not heard the quacking
of wild-ducks, which led them on till they came upon a little stream.
They followed the water downward till they came to a waterfall, where
they stopped for a minute in alarm; for at its foot lay the remains of
three little ducks quite dead, little more indeed than heaps of wet
feathers, only to be recognised by their poor little olive-green
beaks. But they still heard quacking below, and going on they
presently found a dozen Mallards and Ducks exactly like those that
they had seen on the moor, all full-plumed and full-grown.
The Hind went up to them at once, but they took not the least notice
of her. She wished them good-morning, but still they took no notice;
so then she said in her gentlest voice: "I am afraid that you have
had a dreadful misfortune with your little Flappers."
Then at last a little Duck turned round and said very rudely: "Ey?
What yer s'yin'?"
"Your little Ducklings which I saw lying dead by the fall," she said.
"Well," said the Duck still more rudely, "let 'em lie there. I can't
be bothered with 'em. Who asked you to come poking your nose into our
water?"
The Hind was very angry, for she had never been spoken to like this,
and she remembered how very differently the Duck had talked to her on
the moor. So instead of leaving these disgraceful little Ducks alone,
which would perhaps have been wiser, she began to scold them. "What,"
she said, "do you mean to say that you let the poor little things
drown for want of proper care? I never heard of such a thing. You
ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
And then all the Ducks broke out in chorus. "'Ow, I s'y, 'ere's an old
party come to teach us 'ow to bring up our chicks," said one. "Shall I
just step out and teach your little feller 'ow to run?" said another.
"Look out, little 'un, or your 'orns will drop off," said a third; and
this annoyed the Pricket very much, for how could his horns be
dropping off, considering that they were only just clean of velvet?
"The old 'un hasn't got no 'orns," said a fourth; "there's an old Cow
in the next field. Shall I go and borrow a pair for you, mum? She'll
be 'appy to lend 'em, I'm sure." And they all burst out laughing
together, "Quar, quar, quar, quar!" And I am sorry to say that the
Ducks laughed even louder than the Mallards.
Altogether they were so rude, and impudent, and vulgar, and odious,
that the Deer walked away with great dignity without saying another
word. And as they went they saw an old grey Fox crouching down in the
rushes by the water-side, as still as a stone, and quite hidden from
view. Then the Hind turned to warn the Ducks, but she could hardly
utter a word before they all came swimming down, laughing, "Quar,
quar, quar," till she couldn't hear herself speak. Presently they
turned to the bank, still laughing, and waddled ashore one after
another; when all of a sudden up jumped the Fox, caught the foremost
Mallard by the neck, threw him over his back, and trotted away
laughing in his turn. And the rest of the ducks flew back to the water
fast enough then, you may be sure, and were sorry when it was too
late that they had been so rude. But the truth is, that these were not
true wild-ducks, but what are called tame wild-ducks, which had been
bought in Leadenhall Market. And this accounted for their bad manners,
their ugly language, and their conceit; for like a great many other
creatures that are bred in towns, they thought they knew everything,
whereas in reality they could not take care of their children nor even
of themselves.
The Hind was very much disgusted, and began to think that she had
wandered too far from the moor, as indeed she had. For on their way
back to Bremridge Wood they were chased by a sheep-dog, and when they
shook him off by jumping a hedge they found themselves in the middle
of a lot of bullocks, which ran together and galloped after them and
tried to mob them. So they decided to have no more to do with a
country where there were so many tame things, but to go straight back
to the moor. The Pricket thought that it might be pleasanter only to
move up to their old home in the woods higher up the valley, but the
Hind was impatient to return to the moor. There was no one to warn her
not to go, and they set out that very same night.