2. Raiding the Hen-House

TALES OF DINGDONG FOREST Part 2

Sally Slowcoach took her time going home. Well she would wouldn’t she, with a name like that?

And when she arrived at her cozy little burrow it was to find Sidney Snailshell waiting for her. He was slouching on her kitchen table, leaving a trail of slime just about everywhere, and had helped himself to one of her best cream cakes. She had a love for cream cakes, and so did Sidney Snailshell.

“There’s trouble in the forest,” he told her, wiping a smear of cream off his face with a sheet torn off Sally’s kitchen roll.

“What trouble might that be?” she asked, curious because she hadn’t noticed anything really troublesome while she’d been out in the sun.

“It’s farmer Bigpants. He’s in a bad mood, and that’s no mistake,” Sidney told her.

“And what’s wrong with the farmer? What’s upset him?” asked Sally, washing a trail of snail-slime off her nicely polished floor with a mop she kept specially for the purpose.

“It’s Ferdy Fox,” explained Sidney, licking the fast smudge of cream off the table top. “He’s been after the chickens again, and Farmer Bigpants doesn’t like it.”

“Then,” sighed Sally, “we’ll have to do something about it.”

“I know, but I can’t think of anything,” sniffed Sidney.

“We have to think out of the box,” decided Sally.

“But I’m not in any box!” protested the snail, wondering if Sally would mind him sneaking another cream cake.

“What I mean,” explained Sally, “is we’ll have to think of something unusual. Something mad old Ferdy won’t be expecting. Tell me, you know the old fox better than I do, is there anything he particularly hates?”

“You mean, like onions?” asked Sidney.

Sally nodded. “Yes, that sort of thing.”

Sidney thought. “There’s garlic,” he said after a really long think, “I’ve heard that he really hates garlic. It makes him go to the toilet even when he smells it near him, and he makes such a dreadfully smelly mess! And he’s sick. It’s horrible to watch him being sick.”

“Then that’s it!” laughed Sally, “let’s help the farmer. Will you do something to help me to help him?”

“As long as it doesn’t mean I have to go far,” sniffed Sidney, “because there’s one thing I can’t do and that’s hurry.”

“I want some garlic,” Sally told him, “and we’re in luck because I happen to know that there’s some wild garlic growing just down the lane, not far at all. You go and fetch some garlic and I’ll be off to see Pongo Trouserpeck the scarecrow. They say one good turn deserves another, and I helped him so he can help the rest of us.”

“Garlic?” sighed Sidney, “I dared say I can manage that.”

“Then I’m off to see Pongo,” she said with a huge grin, and she watched as Sidney Snailshell slowly slithered off her table, jumped onto a chair and then onto the floor, and slowly made his way out of her burrow.

Then, when he was out of sight she picked up the cream cake he’d been hoping to take and pushed it into her own mouth before setting off for Farmer Bigpants’ field.

Pongo Trouserpeck was where he usually was, gazing across a field that was loaded with as many ears of corn as a field can grow without the whole lot falling through a hole in the Earth because of its weight, and sinking out of sight, probably to end up in the seas near Australia.

“I need some corn,” Sally told him, “I’ve got a plan to cheer Farmer Bigpants up.”

“I can arrange that,” replied Pongo, “I’ll have a word with some friendly crows.”

“If they can bring it to me at my burrow I’ll be so pleased I might even give them some crumbs from my cream cakes,” she said.

“They’d really like that,” nodded Pongo.

After an hour Sally Slowcoach had everything ready. Sidney had brought several cloves of wild garlic and the crows had been really good and brought a pile of corn from the field.

Then, using her own special skill, Sally mixed the corn and the garlic together until the corn reeked of garlic, and then she put every grain of it in her second best handbag (she didn’t want her best one to reek of garlic) and set off down the lane for the hen-house.

“Who‘s that?” demanded Henrietta, the chief hen.

“It’ s Sally, and I’ve brought you a load of corn in my handbag. It might smell a bit of garlic, but I want you to all eat some of it even if you’re not keen on garlic.”

“We like garlic,” said Henrietta.

“That’s all to the good!” laughed Sally, “here you are, in my second-best handbag. Share it out and eat all of it, and if that awful fox comes back tonight you’ll all smell of garlic and he won’t want to go anywhere near you!”

“What a good idea! It’ll make all of smell and taste of garlic!” smiled Henrietta, and she shared the corn out between all of the hens.

It was dark when decided he’s like a nice plump chicken for his supper, so her set off for the hen-house. He might have noticed the faint aroma of garlic in the air, but he didn’t. His trouble was he was greedy and too fond of tasty chicken for his supper.

He saw Henrietta pecking the ground not far from where he was watching and he leapt, suddenly, into the air and over the wire fence that was there to keep him out.

He grabbed mouthful of Henrietta’s tail feathers, and she squawked as loud as she could and beat him off with her wings, calling him a really rude name while she did so. That wouldn’t normally have worried cunning old Ferdy, but instead of the nice chickeny smell he was expecting he got a mouthful of garlic.

“Help!” he cried, “Garlic!”

But the smell and the taste was everywhere, and it made him want to poo and it made him want to be sick, and he pooed everywhere and was sick everywhere and ran away as fast as ever he could, leaving a nasty smelly brown trail behind him.

“Never again,” he yelped, and he meant it. Never again would he go on a night raid to the hen-house. He’d have to learn to live without!

© Peter Rogerson, 16.11.20