I wandered on for two more days, finding the road again and relieved to find it. I was determined not to waste any more time, but to find my home and to find some answers.
Road signs were becoming more difficult to read; I had to gaze at them for a long time and concentrate hard. However, I found the right way and continued my journey, pleased to reach a town further on; it was much easier for me to get food when I was among people and shops. A few people took pity on me in my bedraggled state (although others chased me away as though I were something unclean) and gave me scraps. I spent the night with a family who took me in, and I think they had intentions of keeping me as a pet, but the following morning when they let me out to relieve myself, I ran off to the next town. I hated spurning this family’s kindness, but nothing could deter me from my purpose now.
I was less successful in scrounging food in the next town, although I still ate adequately enough. The road was becoming more and more familiar and I knew I was nearing my home. My excitement grew.
When dusk fell I was between towns, so I left the roadside and entered a deep wood. Hungry (of course) and tired (naturally), I searched for a safe place to sleep. I don’t know if you’ve ever spent the night in a wood alone, but it’s very creepy. It’s pitch-black for a start (no street lights), and there’s a constant rustling and cracking of dry twigs as the night animals mooch around. My night vision’s good — better than yours — but even so, it was still difficult to detect much in the darkness. Eerie glowing lights set my heart racing until I investigated and discovered a couple of glow-worms going through their meeting routine. Another blue-green glow upset me until I realised it was only honey fungus growing on a decaying tree-trunk.
I could hear bats flapping around, their high-pitched squeals making me jump, and a hedgehog trundled into me and pricked my nose with its spikes. I considered going back to the roadside, but the blinding lights and roaring engines of passing cars were even more frightening.
The woods at night are almost as busy as in the daytime, except everything seems even more secretive. I adopted this secretive attitude myself and skulked around as stealthily as I could in search of a resting-place. Finally I discovered a nice soft mound of earth beneath a thick roof of foliage, just under a tree. It made a snug hiding place and I settled down for the night, a strange feeling of portentousness filling me. My instincts were right, for later that night my sleep was disturbed by the badger.
And it was the badger who explained things to me.
I had failed to fall into a comfortable sleep and lay dozing in the dark with my eyes constantly blinking open at the slightest sound. A shifting of earth behind me made me jump and twist my head round to see the cause of the disturbance. Three broad white lines appeared from a hole in the sloping ground and a twitching nose at the base of the middle stripe sniffed the air in all directions.
It stopped when it caught my scent.
‘Who’s there?’ a voice said.
I didn’t reply -1 was ready to run.
The white lines widened as they emerged from the black hole. ‘Funny smell,’ the voice said. ‘Let me see you.’
I now saw there were two shiny black eyes on either side of the middle stripe. I realised it was a badger speaking, and it was, two black stripes running down his white head which gave him this white-striped appearance. I backed away, aware that these creatures could be fierce if alarmed or angered.
‘Is it… is it a… dog? Yes, it’s a dog, isn’t it?’ the badger guessed.
I cleared my throat, undecided whether to stay or run.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ the badger said. ‘I won’t cause you any bother unless you mean us harm.’ He waddled his great coarse-haired body out of his sett and I saw he was at least three feet long and very tall.
‘Yes, I thought I recognised the smell. We don’t get many dogs in here on their own. You are on your own, aren’t you? You’re not night-hunting with one of those cattle farmers, are you?’
Like the fox, he didn’t seem to trust the dog’s association with man. I found my voice and nervously assured him I wasn’t.
He seemed puzzled for a moment and I felt rather than saw him regard me curiously. Whatever was going on in his mind was interrupted as another badger shuffled from the sett. I assumed this was his sow.
‘What’s going on? Who’s this?’ came a sharp voice.
‘Hush now. It’s only a dog and he means us no harm,’ the boar told her. ‘Why are you alone in the woods, friend? Are you lost?’
I was too nervous to speak up right then and the sow piped up again: ‘Chase him away! He’s after the babies!’
‘No, no,’ I managed to say. ‘No, please, I’m just passing through. I’ll be on my way now. Don’t get upset.’ I turned to trot off into the darkness.
‘Just a moment,’ the boar said quickly. ‘Stay awhile. I want to talk to you.’
Now I was afraid to run.
‘Chase him away, chase him away! I don’t like him!’ the sow urged.
‘Be quiet!’ the boar said quietly but firmly. ‘You go on about your hunting. Leave a good trail for me to follow — I’ll join you later.’
The sow knew better than to argue and huffed her way rudely past me, emitting a vile odour from her anal glands as a comment.
‘Come closer,’ the boar said when his mate had gone. ‘Come where I can see you better.’ His enormous body had shrunk and I realised his hair must have become erectile on seeing me and had now returned to its normal smoothness. ‘Tell me why you’re here. Do you belong to a man?’
I shuffled forward, ready to flee.
‘No, I don’t belong to anyone. I used to, but don’t any more.’
‘Have you been mistreated?’
‘It’s a lucky dog who hasn’t.’
He nodded at this. ‘It would be a fortunate animal or man who hasn’t,’ he said.
It was my turn to regard him curiously. What did he know of man?
The badger settled himself into a comfortable position on the ground and invited me to do the same and, after a moment’s hesitation, I did.
‘Tell me about yourself. Do you have a man name?’ he asked.
‘Fluke,’ I told him, puzzled by his knowledge. He seemed very human for a badger. ‘What’s yours?’
The badger chuckled dryly. ‘Wild animals don’t have names, we know who we are. It’s only men who give animals names.’
‘How do you know about that? About men, I mean.’
He laughed aloud then. ‘I used to be one,’ he said.
I sat there stunned. Had I heard right? My jaw dropped open.
The badger laughed again, and the sound of a badger laughing is enough to unnerve anyone. Fighting the urge to run I managed to stammer, ‘Y-you used…’
‘Yes. And you were too. And so were all animals.’
‘But… but I know I was. I thought I was the only one! I…"
He stayed my words with a grin. ‘Hush now. I knew you weren’t like the others at my first whiff of you. I’ve met some who have been similar, but there’s something very different about you. Calm down and let me hear your story, then I’ll tell you a few things about yourself — about us.’
I tried to still my pounding heart and began to tell the badger about my life: my first recollections in the market, my first owner, the dogs’ home, the breaker’s yard, the Guvnor, Rumbo, the old lady, and my episode with sly old fox. I told him where I was going, of my man memories and, as I went on, my nerves settled, although an excitement remained. It was wonderful to talk in this way, to tell someone who would listen, who understood the things I said, how I felt. The badger remained quiet throughout, nodding his head from time to time, shaking it in sympathy at others. When I had finished, I felt drained, drained yet strangely elated. It seemed as though a weight had been lifted. I was no longer alone — there was another who knew what I knew! I looked eagerly at the badger.