The Farthing Wood Collection 1 Read Free Page A

possibilities for fun.
    ‘Dreary lot, aren’t they?’ Smooth Otter remarked to a lone female. ‘They need cheering up. Ought to be enjoying themselves on a lovely crisp day like this. Life can’t be serious all the time.’
    ‘What are you going to do?’ asked the bitch otter. ‘Most creatures are asleep in the daytime.’
    ‘Seek some of them out,’ he replied as he ran off. ‘Why,’ he cried, ‘they don’t know what they’re missing.’
    Under the trees Smooth Otter sought playmates amongst those who were, in other respects, rivals. This contradiction in roles didn’t strike him. He was bent on a round of pleasure and he wanted others to be the same. Fresh prints in the snow led him to Sly Stoat’s den. He bounded along boisterously, slipping and sliding on purpose in the powdery snow, calling all the while for others to join him.
    A jay screeched at him from a lofty bough. ‘Mad creature! Lost your wits?’
    The otter skidded to a stop, somersaulted over and looked up, his head caked with lumps of snow. ‘Wits? You don’t need wits on a day such as this,’ he cried. ‘All you need is high spirits!’
    The jay screeched again and flew off in alarm. Sly Stoat’s head popped out of a burrow. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said as he saw Smooth Otter. ‘I might have guessed an otter would be causing the commotion.’
    ‘Where’s your sense of fun?’ was the answer. ‘Come on, I’ll chase you through the snow.’
    Sly Stoat’s head disappeared at once.
    ‘There’s nothing to fear,’ Smooth Otter assured him. ‘It’s only a bit of sport. Tell you what, you chase me. Set your blood tingling!’ He raced away, expecting the smaller animal to follow. After a while he turned, but there was no sign of the stoat. ‘Oh, what’s the matter with them all?’ Smooth Otter muttered. ‘Where are –’ He broke off as he saw a familiar figure padding softly, cautiously, across a glade. It was StoutFox. ‘Hallo, let’s see how the land lies here,’ the otter said to himself. ‘All foxes aren’t the same. Perhaps this fellow would enjoy a run.’
    He gambolled across. Stout Fox was at once on his guard. His hackles rose and he bared his teeth.
    ‘No call for that, Foxy,’ Smooth Otter told him glibly. ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘What a question,’ the fox growled. ‘You otters are always a problem.’
    ‘Let bygones be bygones,’ the otter offered. ‘I want your company.’
    ‘Company? Whatever for?’ Stout Fox asked suspiciously.
    Smooth Otter explained.
    ‘Snow? Play? the fox repeated dully. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. You otters are all crazy, but I’ve more sense than to listen to you. And I’ll give you a spot of advice. Keep away from Farthing Wood if you value your safety.’ He turned his back and continued on his way.
    ‘Please yourself,’ Smooth Otter called after him. ‘You’re the loser.’ Setting his face once more in the direction of the stream he mumbled, ‘Better stick to my own kind. What’s the use of courting others’ friendship?’
    Of course there were plenty of playfellows amongst the otters. But the antics of the otters that early morning had attracted interest, after all, outside their own group. Two delighted human onlookers were trying hard to keep still behind a thin screen of vegetation as they watched the animal gymnastics. Wildlife enthusiasts were not a rare sight in Farthing Wood. They came hoping chiefly for a glimpse of the otters whose existence was well-known in the area. Usually these cleveranimals confined their activities to those times when people were absent from the Wood – during the night and around dawn – and so they were only occasionally spotted. Now their enjoyment of the snow drove caution to the winds. The two amateur naturalists couldn’t believe their luck. It was as though the otters had put on a special display for them. And the humans were not the only witnesses.
    ‘Just look at those show-offs,’ Lean