Watership Down

  'Well, you've hurt my ribs, anyway. Tunnel of water, indeed! What rubbish! Can we go back to sleep now?'

  'Hazel - the danger, the bad thing. It hasn't gone away. It's here - all round us. Don't tell me to forget about it and go to sleep. We've got to go away before it's too late.'

  'Go away? From here, you mean? From the warren?'

  'Yes. Very soon. It doesn't matter where.'

  'Just you and I?'

  'No, everyone.'

  'The whole warren? Don't be silly. They won't come. They'll say you're out of your wits.'

  'Then they'll be here when the bad thing comes. You must listen to me, Hazel. Believe me, something very bad is close upon us and we ought to go away.'

  'Well, I suppose we'd better go and see the Chief Rabbit and you can tell him about it. Or I'll try to. But I don't expect he'll like the idea at all.'

  Hazel led the way down the slope of the run and up towards the bramble curtain. He did not want to believe Fiver, and he was afraid not to.

  It was a little after ni-Frith, or noon. The whole warren were underground, mostly asleep. Hazel and Fiver went a short way above ground and then into a wide, open hole in a sand patch and so down, by various runs, until they were thirty feet into the wood, among the roots of an oak. Here they were stopped by a large, heavily-built rabbit - one of the Owsla. He had a curious, heavy growth of fur on the crown of his head, which gave him an odd appearance, as though he were wearing a kind of cap. This had given him his name, Thlayli, which means, literally, 'Furhead', or as we might say, 'Bigwig'.

  'Hazel?' said Bigwig, sniffing at him in the deep twilight among the tree-roots. 'It is Hazel, isn't it? What are you doing here? And at this time of day?' He ignored Fiver, who was waiting farther down the run.

  'We want to see the Chief Rabbit,' said Hazel. 'It's important, Bigwig. Can you help us?'

  'We?' said Bigwig. 'Is he going to see him too?'

  'Yes, he must. Do trust me, Bigwig. I don't usually come and talk like this, do I? When did I ever ask to see the Chief Rabbit before?'

  'Well, I'll do it for you, Hazel, although I'll probably get my head bitten off. I'll tell him I know you're a sensible fellow. He ought to know you himself, of course, but he's getting old. Wait here, will you?'

  Bigwig went a little way down the run and stopped at the entrance to a large burrow. After speaking a few words that Hazel could not catch, he was evidently called inside. The two rabbits waited in silence, broken only by the continual nervous fidgeting of Fiver.

  The Chief Rabbit's name and style was Threarah, meaning 'Lord Rowan Tree'. For some reason he was always referred to as 'The Threarah' - perhaps because there happened to be only one threar, or rowan, near the warren, from which he took his name. He had won his position not only by strength in his prime, but also by level-headedness and a certain self-contained detachment, quite unlike the impulsive behaviour of most rabbits. It was well-known that he never let himself become excited by rumour or danger. He had coolly - some even said coldly - stood firm during the terrible onslaught of the myxomatosis, ruthlessly driving out every rabbit who seemed to be sickening. He had resisted all ideas of mass emigration and enforced complete isolation on the warren, thereby almost certainly saving it from extinction. It was he, too, who had once dealt with a particularly troublesome stoat by leading it down among the pheasant coops and so (at the risk of his own life) on to a keeper's gun. He was now, as Bigwig said, getting old, but his wits were still clear enough. When Hazel and Fiver were brought in, he greeted them politely. Owsla like Toadflax might threaten and bully. The Threarah had no need.

  'Ah, Walnut. It is Walnut, isn't it?'

  'Hazel,' said Hazel.

  'Hazel, of course. How very nice of you to come and see me. I knew your mother well. And your friend -'

  'My brother.'

  'Your brother,' said the Threarah, with the faintest suggestion of 'Don't correct me any more, will you?' in his voice. 'Do make yourselves comfortable. Have some lettuce?'

  The Chief Rabbit's lettuce was stolen by the Owsla from a garden half a mile away across the fields. Outskirters seldom or never saw lettuce. Hazel took a small leaf and nibbled politely. Fiver refused, and sat blinking and twitching miserably.

  'Now, how are things with you?' said the Chief Rabbit. 'Do tell me how I can help you.'

  'Well, sir,' said Hazel rather hesitantly, 'it's because of my brother - Fiver here. He can often tell when there's anything bad about, and I've found him right again and again. He knew the flood was coming last autumn and sometimes he can tell where a wire's been set. And now he says he can sense a bad danger coming upon the warren.'

  'A bad danger. Yes, I see. How very upsetting,' said the Chief Rabbit, looking anything but upset. 'Now what sort of danger, I wonder?' He looked at Fiver.

  'I don't know,' said Fiver. 'B-but it's bad. It's so b-bad that - it's very bad,' he concluded miserably.

  The Threarah waited politely for a few moments and then he said, 'Well, now, and what ought we to do about it, I wonder?'

  'Go away,' said Fiver instantly. 'Go away. All of us. Now. Threarah, sir, we must all go away.'

  The Threarah waited again. Then, in an extremely understanding voice, he said, 'Well, I never did! That's rather a tall order, isn't it? What do you think yourself?'

  'Well, sir,' said Hazel, 'my brother doesn't really think about these feelings he gets. He just has the feelings, if you see what I mean. I'm sure you're the right person to decide what we ought to do.'

  'Well, that's very nice of you, to say that. I hope I am. But now, my dear fellows, let's just think about this a moment, shall we? It's May, isn't it? Everyone's busy and most of the rabbits are enjoying themselves. No elil for miles, or so they tell me. No illness, good weather. And you want me to tell the warren that young - er - young - er - your brother here has got a hunch and we must all go trapesing across country to goodness knows where and risk the consequences, eh? What do you think they'll say? All delighted, eh?'

  'They'd take it from you,' said Fiver suddenly.

  'That's very nice of you,' said the Threarah again. 'Well, perhaps they would, perhaps they would. But I should have to consider it very carefully indeed. A most serious step, of course. And then -'

  'But there's no time, Threarah, sir,' blurted out Fiver. 'I can feel the danger like a wire round my neck - like a wire - Hazel, help!' He squealed and rolled over in the sand, kicking frantically, as a rabbit does in a snare. Hazel held him down with both forepaws and he grew quieter.

  'I'm awfully sorry, Chief Rabbit,' said Hazel. 'He gets like this sometimes. He'll be all right in a minute.'

  'What a shame! What a shame! Poor fellow, perhaps he ought to go home and rest. Yes, you'd better take him along now. Well, it's really been extremely good of you to come and see me, Walnut. I appreciate it very much indeed. And I shall think over all you've said most carefully, you can be quite sure of that. Bigwig, just wait a moment, will you?'

  As Hazel and Fiver made their way dejectedly down the run outside the Threarah's burrow, they could just hear, from inside, the Chief Rabbit's voice assuming a rather sharper note, interspersed with an occasional 'Yes, sir,' 'No, sir.'

  Bigwig, as he had predicted, was getting his head bitten off.

  3. Hazel's Decision

  What am I lying here for? ... We are lying here as though we had a chance of enjoying a quiet time ... Am I waiting until I become a little older?

  Xenophon The Anabasis

  'But, Hazel, you didn't really think the Chief Rabbit would act on your advice, did you? What were you expecting?'

  It was evening once more and Hazel and Fiver were feeding outside the wood with two friends. Blackberry, the rabbit with tipped ears who had been startled by Fiver the night before, had listened carefully to Hazel's description of the notice board, remarking that he had always felt sure that men left these things about to act as signs or messages of some kind, in the same way that rabbits left marks on runs and gaps. It was
another neighbour, Dandelion, who had now brought the talk back to the Threarah and his indifference to Fiver's fear.

  'I don't know what I expected,' said Hazel. 'I'd never been near the Chief Rabbit before. But I thought, "Well, even if he won't listen, at least no one can say afterwards that we didn't do our best to warn him".'

  'You're sure, then, that there's really something to be afraid of?'

  'I'm quite certain. I've always known Fiver, you see.'

  Blackberry was about to reply when another rabbit came noisily through the thick dog's mercury in the wood, blundered down into the brambles and pushed his way up from the ditch. It was Bigwig.

  'Hullo, Bigwig,' said Hazel. 'You're off duty?'

  'Off duty,' said Bigwig, 'and likely to remain off duty.'

  'How do you mean?'

  'I've left the Owsla, that's what I mean.'

  'Not on our account?'

  'You could say that. The Threarah's rather good at making himself unpleasant when he's been woken up at ni-Frith for what he considers a piece of trivial nonsense. He certainly knows how to get under your skin. I dare say a good many rabbits would have kept quiet and thought about keeping on the right side of the Chief, but I'm afraid I'm not much good at that. I told him that the Owsla's privileges didn't mean all that much to me in any case and that a strong rabbit could always do just as well by leaving the warren. He told me not to be impulsive and think it over, but I shan't stay. Lettuce-stealing isn't my idea of a jolly life, nor sentry-duty in the burrow. I'm in a fine temper, I can tell you.'

  'No one will steal lettuces soon,' said Fiver quietly.

  'Oh, that's you, Fiver, is it?' said Bigwig, noticing him for the first time. 'Good, I was coming to look for you. I've been thinking about what you said to the Chief Rabbit. Tell me, is it a sort of tremendous hoax to make yourself important, or is it true?'

  'It is true,' said Fiver. 'I wish it weren't.'

  'Then you'll be leaving the warren?'

  They were all startled by the bluntness with which Bigwig went to the point. Dandelion muttered, 'Leave the warren, Frithrah!' while Blackberry twitched his ears and looked very intently, first at Bigwig and then at Hazel.

  It was Hazel who replied. 'Fiver and I will be leaving the warren tonight,' he said deliberately.' I don't know exactly where we shall go, but we'll take anyone who's ready to come with us.'

  'Right,' said Bigwig, 'then you can take me.'

  The last thing Hazel had expected was the immediate support of a member of the Owsla. It crossed his mind that although Bigwig would certainly be a useful rabbit in a tight corner, he would also be a difficult one to get on with. He certainly would not want to do what he was told - or even asked - by an outskirter. 'I don't care if he is in the Owsla,' thought Hazel. 'If we get away from the warren, I'm not going to let Bigwig run everything, or why bother to go?' But he answered only, 'Good. We shall be glad to have you.'

  He looked round at the other rabbits, who were all staring either at Bigwig or at himself. It was Blackberry who spoke next.

  'I think I'll come,' he said. 'I don't quite know whether it's you who've persuaded me, Fiver. But anyway, there are too many bucks in this warren, and it's pretty poor fun for any rabbit that's not in the Owsla. The funny thing is that you feel terrified to stay and I feel terrified to go. Foxes here, weasels there, Fiver in the middle, begone dull care!'

  He pulled out a burnet leaf and ate it slowly, concealing his fear as best he could; for all his instincts were warning him of the dangers in the unknown country beyond the warren.

  'If we believe Fiver,' said Hazel, 'it means that we think no rabbits at all ought to stay here. So between now and the time when we go, we ought to persuade as many as we can to join us.'

  'I think there are one or two in the Owsla who might be worth sounding,' said Bigwig. 'If I can talk them over, they'll be with me when I join you tonight. But they won't come because of Fiver. They'll be juniors, discontented fellows like me. You need to have heard Fiver yourself to be convinced by him. He's convinced me. It's obvious that he's been sent some kind of message, and I believe in these things. I can't think why he didn't convince the Threarah.'

  'Because the Threarah doesn't like anything he hasn't thought of for himself,' answered Hazel. 'But we can't bother with him any more now. We've got to try to collect some more rabbits and meet again here, fu Inle. And we'll start fu Inle, too: we can't wait longer. The danger's coming closer all the time - whatever it is - and besides, the Threarah isn't going to like it if he finds out that you've been trying to get at rabbits in the Owsla, Bigwig. Neither is Captain Holly, I dare say. They won't mind odds-and-ends like us clearing off, but they won't want to lose you. If I were in your place, I'd be careful whom I picked to talk to.'

  4. The Departure

  Now sir, young Fortinbras,

  Of unimproved mettle hot and full,

  Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there

  Sharked up a list of lawless resolutes

  For food and diet to some enterprise

  That hath a stomach in't.

  Shakespeare Hamlet

  Fu Inle means 'After moonrise'. Rabbits, of course, have no idea of precise time or of punctuality. In this respect they are much the same as primitive people, who often take several days over assembling for some purpose and then several more to get started. Before such people can act together, a kind of telepathic feeling has to flow through them and ripen to the point when they all know that they are ready to begin. Anyone who has seen the martins and swallows in September, assembling on the telephone wires, twittering, making short flights singly and in groups over the open, stubbly fields, returning to form longer and even longer lines above the yellowing verges of the lanes - the hundreds of individual birds merging and blending, in a mounting excitement, into swarms, and these swarms coming loosely and untidily together to create a great, unorganized flock, thick at the centre and ragged at the edges, which breaks and re-forms continually like clouds or waves - until that moment when the greater part (but not all) of them know that the time has come: they are off, and have begun once more that great southward flight which many will not survive; anyone seeing this has seen at work the current that flows (among creatures who think of themselves primarily as part of a group and only secondarily, if at all, as individuals) to fuse them together and impel them into action without conscious thought or will: has seen at work the angel which drove the First Crusade into Antioch and drives the lemmings into the sea.

  It was actually about an hour after moonrise and a good while before midnight when Hazel and Fiver once more came out of their burrow behind the brambles and slipped quietly along the bottom of the ditch. With them was a third rabbit, Hlao - Pipkin - a friend of Fiver. (Hlao means any small concavity in the grass where moisture may collect, e.g. the dimple formed by a dandelion or thistle-cup.) He too was small, and inclined to be timid, and Hazel and Fiver had spent the greater part of their last evening in the warren in persuading him to join them. Pipkin had agreed rather hesitantly. He still felt extremely nervous about what might happen once they left the warren and had decided that the best way to avoid trouble would be to keep close to Hazel and do exactly what he said.

  The three were still in the ditch when Hazel heard a movement above. He looked up quickly.

  'Who's there?' he said, 'Dandelion?'

  'No, I'm Hawkbit,' said the rabbit who was peering over the edge. He jumped down among them, landing rather heavily.' Do you remember me, Hazel? We were in the same burrow during the snow last winter. Dandelion told me you were going to leave the warren tonight. If you are, I'll come with you.'

  Hazel could recall Hawkbit - a rather slow, stupid rabbit, whose company for five snow-bound days underground had been distinctly tedious. Still, he thought, this was no time to pick and choose. Although Bigwig might succeed in talking over one or two, most of the rabbits they could expect to join them would not come from the Owsla. They would be outskirters who were getting a thi
n time and wondering what to do about it. He was running over some of these in his mind when Dandelion appeared.

  'The sooner we're off the better, I reckon,' said Dandelion. 'I don't much like the look of things. After I'd persuaded Hawkbit here to join us, I was just starting to talk to a few more, when I found that Toadflax fellow had followed me down the run. "I want to know what you're up to," he said, and I don't think he believed me when I told him I was only trying to find out whether there were any rabbits who wanted to leave the warren. He asked me if I was sure I wasn't working up some kind of plot against the Threarah and he got awfully angry and suspicious. It put the wind up me, to tell you the truth, so I've just brought Hawkbit along and left it at that.'

  'I don't blame you,' said Hazel. 'Knowing Toadflax, I'm surprised he didn't knock you over first and ask questions afterwards. All the same, let's wait a little longer. Blackberry ought to be here soon."

  Time passed. They crouched in silence while the moon shadows moved northward in the grass. At last, just as Hazel was about to run down the slope to Blackberry's burrow, he saw him come out of his hole, followed by no less than three rabbits. One of these, Buckthorn, Hazel knew well. He was glad to see him, for he knew him for a tough, sturdy fellow, who was considered certain to get into the Owsla as soon as he reached full weight.

  'But I dare say he's impatient,' thought Hazel, 'or he may have come off worst in some scuffle over a doe and taken it hard. Well, with him and Bigwig, at least we shan't be too badly off if we run into any fighting.'

  He did not recognize the other two rabbits and when Blackberry told him their names - Speedwell and Acorn - he was none the wiser. But this was not surprising, for they were typical outskirters - thin-looking six-monthers, with the strained, wary look of those who are only too well used to the thin end of the stick. They looked curiously at Fiver. From what Blackberry had told them, they had been almost expecting to find Fiver foretelling doom in a poetic torrent. Instead, he seemed more calm and normal than the rest. The certainty of going had lifted a weight from Fiver.