Watership Down

  7. The Lendri and the River

  Quant au courage moral, il avait trouve fort rare, disait-il, celui de deux heures apres minuit; c'est-a-dire le courage de I'improviste.

  Napoleon Bonaparte

  As Dandelion ended, Acorn, who was on the windward side of the little group, suddenly started and sat back, with ears up and nostrils twitching. The strange, rank smell was stronger than ever and after a few moments they all heard a heavy movement close by. Suddenly, on the other side of the path, the fern parted and there looked out a long, dog-like head, striped black and white. It was pointed downwards, the jaws grinning, the muzzle close to the ground. Behind, they could just discern great, powerful paws and a shaggy, black body. The eyes were peering at them, full of savage cunning. The head moved slowly, taking in the dusky lengths of the wood-ride in both directions, and then fixed them once more with its fierce, terrible stare. The jaws opened wider and they could see the teeth, glimmering white as the stripes along the head. For long moments it gazed and the rabbits remained motionless, staring back without a sound. Then Bigwig, who was nearest to the path, turned and slipped back among the others.

  'A lendri,' he muttered as he passed through them. 'It may be dangerous and it may not, but I'm taking no chances with it. Let's get away.'

  They, followed him through the fern and very soon came upon another, parallel path. Bigwig turned into it and broke into a run. Dandelion overtook him and the two disappeared among the ilex trees. Hazel and the others followed as best they could, with Pipkin limping and staggering behind, his fear driving him on in spite of the pain in his paw.

  Hazel came out on the farther side of the ilexes and followed the path round a bend. Then he stopped dead and sat back on his haunches. Immediately in front of him, Bigwig and Dandelion were staring out from the sheer edge of a high bank, and below the bank ran a stream. It was in fact the little river Enborne, twelve to fifteen feet wide and at this time of year two or three feet deep with spring rain, but to the rabbits it seemed immense, such a river as they had never imagined. The moon had almost set and the night was now dark, but they could see the water faintly shining as it flowed and could just make out, on the further side, a thin belt of nut-trees and alders. Somewhere beyond, a plover called three or four times and was silent.

  One by one, most of the others came up, stopped at the bank and looked at the water without speaking. A chilly breeze was moving and several of them trembled where they sat.

  'Well, this is a nice surprise, Hazel,' said Bigwig at length. 'Or were you expecting this when you took us into the wood?'

  Hazel realized wearily that Bigwig was probably going to be troublesome. He was certainly no coward, but he was likely to remain steady only as long as he could see his way clear and be sure of what to do. To him, perplexity was worse than danger; and when he was perplexed he usually grew angry. The day before, Fiver's warning had troubled him, and he had spoken in anger to the Threarah and left the Owsla. Then, while he was in an uncertain mood about the idea of leaving the warren, Captain Holly had appeared in capital time to be attacked and to provide a perfect reason for their departure. Now, at the sight of the river, Bigwig's assurance was leaking again and unless he, Hazel, could restore it in some way, they were likely to be in for trouble. He thought of the Threarah and his wily courtesy.

  'I don't know what we should have done without you just now, Bigwig,' he said. 'What was that animal? Would it have killed us?'

  'A lendri,' said Bigwig. 'I've heard about them in the Owsla. They're not really dangerous. They can't catch a rabbit that runs, and nearly always you can smell them coming. They're funny things: I've heard of rabbits living almost on top of them and coming to no harm. But they're best avoided, all the same. They'll dig out rabbit kittens and they'll kill an injured rabbit if they find one. They're one of the Thousand, all right. I ought to have guessed from the smell, but it was new to me.'

  'It had killed before it met us,' said Blackberry with a shudder. 'I saw the blood on its lips.'

  'A rat, perhaps, or pheasant chicks. Lucky for us it had killed, otherwise it might have been quicker. Still, fortunately we did the right thing. We really came out of it very well,' said Bigwig.

  Fiver came limping down the path with Pipkin. They, too, checked and stared at the sight of the river.

  'What do you think we ought to do now, Fiver?' asked Hazel.

  Fiver looked down at the water and twitched his ears.

  'We shall have to cross it,' he said. 'But I don't think I can swim, Hazel. I'm worn out, and Pipkin's a good deal worse than I am.'

  'Cross it?' cried Bigwig. 'Cross it? Who's going to cross 11? What do you want to cross it for? I never heard such nonsense.'

  Like all wild animals, rabbits can swim if they have to: and some even swim when it suits them. Rabbits have been known to live on the edge of a wood and regularly swim a brook to feed in the fields beyond. But most rabbits avoid swimming and certainly an exhausted rabbit could not swim the Enborne.

  'I don't want to jump in there,' said Speedwell.

  'Why not just go along the bank?' asked Hawkbit.

  Hazel suspected that if Fiver felt they ought to cross the river, it might be dangerous not to. But how were the others to be persuaded? At this moment, as he was still wondering what to say to them, he suddenly realized that something had lightened his spirits. What could it be? A smell? A sound? Then he knew. Near-by, across the river, a lark had begun to twitter and climb. It was morning. A blackbird called one or two deep, slow notes and was followed by a wood-pigeon. Soon they were in grey twilight and could see that the stream bordered the farther edge of the wood. On the other side lay open fields.

  8. The Crossing

  The centurion ... commanded that they which could swim should cast themselves first into the sea and get to land. And the rest, some on boards and some on broken pieces of the ship. And so it came to pass, that they escaped all safe to land.

  The Acts of the Apostles, Chapter 27

  The top of the sandy bank was a good six feet above the water. From where they sat, the rabbits could look straight ahead upstream, and downstream to their left. Evidently there were nesting holes in the sheer face below them, for as the light grew they saw three or four martins dart out over the stream and away into the fields beyond. In a short time one returned with his beak full, and they could hear the nestlings squeaking as he flew out of sight beneath their feet. The bank did not extend far in either direction. Upstream, it sloped down to a grassy path between the trees and the water. This followed the line of the river, which ran straight from almost as far away as they could see, flowing smoothly without fords, gravel shallows or plank bridges. Immediately below them lay a wide pool and here the water was almost still. Away to their left, the bank sloped down again into clumps of alder, among which the stream could be heard chattering over gravel. There was a glimpse of barbed wire stretched across the water and they guessed that this must surround a cattle-wade, like the one in the little brook near the home warren.

  Hazel looked at the path upstream. 'There's grass down there,' he said. 'Let's go and feed.'

  They scrambled down the bank and set to nibbling beside the water. Between them and the stream itself stood half-grown clumps of purple loosestrife and fleabane, which would not flower for nearly two months yet. The only blooms were a few early meadow-sweet and a patch of pink butter-bur. Looking back at the face of the bank, they could see that it was in fact dotted thickly with martins' holes. There was a narrow foreshore at the foot of the little cliff and this was littered with the rubbish of the colony - sticks, droppings, feathers, a broken egg and a dead nestling or two. The martins were now coming and going in numbers over the water.

  Hazel moved close to Fiver and quietly edged him away from the others, feeding as he went. When they were a little way off, and half-concealed by a patch of reeds, he said, 'Are you sure we've got to cross the river, Fiver? What about going along the bank one way or the other?'


  'No, we need to cross the river, Hazel, so that we can get into those fields - and on beyond them too. I know what we ought to be looking for - a high, lonely place with dry soil, where rabbits can see and hear all round and men hardly ever come. Wouldn't that be worth a journey?'

  'Yes, of course it would. But is there such a place?'

  'Not near a river - I needn't tell you that. But if you cross a river you start going up again, don't you? We ought to be on the top - on the top and in the open.'

  'But, Fiver, I think they may refuse to go much further. And then again, you say all this and yet you say you're too tired to swim?'

  'I can rest, Hazel, but Pipkin's in a pretty bad way. I think he's injured. We may have to stay here half the day.'

  'Well, let's go and talk to the others. They may not mind staying. It's crossing they're not going to fancy, unless something frightens them into it.'

  As soon as they had made their way back, Bigwig came across to them from the bushes at the edge of the path.

  'I was wondering where you'd got to,' he said to Hazel. 'Are you ready to move on?'

  'No, I'm not,' answered Hazel firmly. 'I think we ought to stay here until ni-Frith. That'll give everyone a chance to rest and then we can swim across to those fields.'

  Bigwig was about to reply, but Blackberry spoke first.

  'Bigwig,' he said, 'why don't you swim over now, and then go out into the field and have a look round? The'wood may not stretch very far one way or the other. You could see from there; and then we might know which would be the best way to go.'

  'Oh well,' said Bigwig rather grudgingly, 'I suppose there's some sense in that. I'll swim the embleer* river as many times as you like. Always glad to oblige.'

  Without the slightest hesitation, he took two hops to the water, waded in and swam across the deep, still pool. They watched him pull himself out beside a flowering clump of figwort, gripping one of the tough stems in his teeth, shake a shower of drops out of his fur and scutter into the alder bushes. A moment later, between the nut-trees, they saw him running off into the field.

  'I'm glad he's with us,' said Hazel to Silver. Again he thought wryly of the Threarah. 'He's the fellow to find out all we need to know. Oh, I say, look, he's coming back already.'

  Bigwig was racing back across the field, looking more agitated than he had at any time since the encounter with Captain Holly. He ran into the water almost headlong and paddled over fast, leaving an arrow-head ripple on the calm, brown surface. He was speaking as he jerked himself out on the sandy foreshore.

  'Well, Hazel, if I were you I shouldn't wait until ni-Frith. I should go now. In fact, I think you'll have to.'

  'Why?'asked Hazel.

  'There's a large dog loose in the wood.'

  Hazel started. 'What?' he said. 'How do you know?'

  'When you get into the field you can see the wood sloping down to the river. Parts of it are open. I saw the dog crossing a clearing. It was trailing a chain, so it must have broken loose. It may be on the lendri's scent, but the lendri will be underground by now. What do you think will happen when it picks up our scent, running from one side of the wood to the other, with dew on it? Come on, let's get over quickly.'

  Hazel felt at a loss. In front of him stood Bigwig, sodden wet, undaunted, single-minded - the very picture of decision. At his shoulder was Fiver, silent and twitching. He saw Blackberry watching him intently, waiting for his lead and disregarding Bigwig's. Then he looked at Pipkin, huddled into a fold of sand, more panic-stricken and helpless than any rabbit he had ever seen. At this moment, up in the wood, there broke out an excited yelping and a jay began to scold.

  Hazel spoke through a kind of light-headed trance. 'Well, you'd better get on, then,' he said, 'and anyone else who wants to. Personally, I'm going to wait until Fiver and Pipkin are fit to tackle it.'

  'You silly blockhead!' cried Bigwig.' We'll all be finished! We'll -'

  'Don't stamp about,' said Hazel. 'You may be heard. What do you suggest then?'

  'Suggest? There's no suggesting to be done. Those who can swim, swim. The others will have to stay here and hope for the best. The dog may not come.'

  'I'm afraid that won't do for me. I got Pipkin into this and I'm going to get him out.'

  'Well, you didn't get Fiver into it, did you? He got you into it.'

  Hazel could not help noticing, with reluctant admiration, that although Bigwig had lost his temper, he was apparently in no hurry on his own account and seemed less frightened than any of them. Looking round for Blackberry, he saw that he had left them and was up at the top of the pool, where the narrow beach tailed away into a gravel spit. His paws were half-buried in the wet gravel and he was nosing at something large and flat on the water-line. It looked like a piece of wood.

  'Blackberry,' he said, 'can you come back here a moment?'

  Blackberry looked up, tugged out his paws and ran back.

  'Hazel,' he said quickly, 'that's a piece of flat wood - like that piece that closed the gap by the Green Loose above the warren - you remember? It must have drifted down the river. So it floats. We could put Fiver and Pipkin on it and make it float again. It might go across the river. Can you understand?'

  Hazel had no idea what he meant. Blackberry's flood of apparent nonsense only seemed to draw tighter the mesh of danger and bewilderment. As though Bigwig's angry impatience, Pipkin's terror and the approaching dog were not enough to contend with, the cleverest rabbit among them had evidently gone out of his mind. He felt close to despair.

  'Frithrah, yes, I see!' said an excited voice at his ear. It was Fiver. 'Quick, Hazel, don't wait! Come on, and bring Pipkin!'

  It was Blackberry who bullied the stupefied Pipkin to his feet and forced him to limp the few yards to the gravel spit. The piece of wood, hardly bigger than a large rhubarb leaf, was lightly aground. Blackberry almost drove Pipkin on to it with his claws. Pipkin crouched shivering and Fiver followed him aboard.

  'Who's strong?' said Blackberry. 'Bigwig! Silver! Push it out!'

  No one obeyed him. All squatted, puzzled and uncertain. Blackberry buried his nose in the gravel under the landward edge of the board and raised it, pushing. The board tipped. Pipkin squealed and Fiver lowered his head and splayed his claws. Then the board righted itself and drifted out a few feet into the pool with the two rabbits hunched upon it, rigid and motionless. It rotated slowly and they found themselves staring back at their comrades.

  'Frith and Inle!' said Dandelion. "They're sitting on the water! Why don't they sink?'

  'They're sitting on the wood and the wood floats, can't you see?' said Blackberry. 'Now we swim over ourselves. Can we start, Hazel?'

  During the last few minutes Hazel had been as near to losing his head as he was ever to come. He had been at his wits' end, with no reply to Bigwig's scornful impatience except his readiness to risk his own life in company with Fiver and Pipkin. He still could not understand what had happened, but at least he realized that Blackberry wanted him to show authority. His head cleared.

  'Swim,' he said. 'Everybody swim.'

  He watched them as they went in. Dandelion swam as well as he ran, swiftly and easily. Silver, too, was strong. The others paddled and scrambled over somehow and as they began to reach the other side, Hazel plunged. The cold water penetrated his fur almost at once. His breath came short and as his head went under he could hear a faint grating of gravel along the bottom. He paddled across awkwardly, his head tilted high out of the water, and made for the figwort. As he pulled himself out, he looked round among the sopping rabbits in the alders.

  'Where's Bigwig?' he asked.

  'Behind you,' answered Blackberry, his teeth chattering.

  Bigwig was still in the water, on the other side of the pool. He had swum to the raft, put his head against it and was pushing it forward with heavy thrusts of his back legs.' Keep still,' Hazel heard him say in a quick, gulping voice. Then he sank. But a moment later he was up again and had thrust his head over the back of t
he board. As he kicked and struggled, it tilted and then, while the rabbits watched from the bank, moved slowly across the pool and grounded on the opposite side. Fiver pushed Pipkin on to the stones and Bigwig waded out beside them, shivering and breathless.

  'I got the idea once Blackberry had shown us,' he said. 'But it's hard to push it when you're in the water. I hope it's not long to sunrise. I'm cold. Let's get on.'

  There was no sign of the dog as they made haste through the alders and up the field to the first hedgerow. Most of them had not understood Blackberry's discovery of the raft and at once forgot it. Fiver, however, came over to where Blackberry was lying against the stem of a blackthorn in the hedge.

  'You saved Pipkin and me, didn't you?' he said. 'I don't think Pipkin's got any idea what really happened; but I have.'

  'I admit it was a good idea,' replied Blackberry. 'Let's remember it. It might come in handy again some time.'

  9. The Crow and the Beanfield

  With the beanflower's boon,

  And the blackbird's tune,

  And May, and June!

  Robert Browning De Gustibus

  The sun rose while they were still lying in the thorn. Already several of the rabbits were asleep, crouched uneasily between the thick stems, aware of the chance of danger but too tired to do more than trust to luck. Hazel, looking at them, felt almost as insecure as he had on the river bank. A hedgerow in open fields was no place to remain all day. But where could they go? He needed to know more about their surroundings. He moved along the hedge, feeling the breeze from the south and looking for some spot where he could sit and scent it without too much risk. The smells that came down from the higher ground might tell him something.

  He came to a wide gap which had been trodden into mud by cattle. He could see them grazing in the next field, further up the slope. He went cautiously out into the field, squatted down against a clump of thistles and began to smell the wind. Now that he was clear of the hawthorn scent of the hedge and the reek of cattle dung, he became fully aware of what had already been drifting into his nostrils while he was lying among the thorn. There was only one smell on the wind and it was new to him: a strong, fresh, sweet fragrance that filled the air. It was healthy enough. There was no harm in it. But what was it and why was it so strong? How could it exclude every other smell, in open country on a south wind? The source must be close by. Hazel wondered whether to send one of the rabbits to find out. Dandelion would be over the top and back almost as fast as a hare. Then his sense of adventure and mischief prompted him. He would go himself and bring back some news before they even knew that he had gone. That would give Bigwig something to bite on.