'I'll explain later,' said Hazek 'I'd like Blackberry and Fiver to hear as well. But let's go underground now. If you don't want to chew pellets, I do.'
During the afternoon Hazel organized more work on the warren. The Honeycomb was as good as finished - though rabbits are not methodical and are never really certain when anything is finished - and the surrounding burrows and runs were taking shape. Quite early in the evening, however, he made his way once more to the hollow. The bird was still there. It looked weaker and less alert, but snapped feebly as Hazel came up.
'Still here?' said Hazel. 'You fight hawk?'
'No fight,' answered the bird. 'No fight, but vatch, vatch, alvays vatch. Ees no good.'
'Hungry?'
The bird made no reply.
'Listen,' said Hazel. 'Rabbits not eat birds. Rabbits eat grass. We help you.'
'Vat for 'elp me?'
'Never mind. We make you safe. Big hole. Food too.'
The bird considered. 'Legs fine. Ving no good. 'E bad.'
'Well, walk then.'
'You 'urt me, I 'urt you like dam'.'
Hazel turned away. The bird spoke again.
'Ees long vay?'
'No, not far.'
'Come den.'
It got up with a good deal of difficulty, staggering on its strong, blood-red legs. Then it opened its wings high above its body and Hazel jumped back, startled by the great, arching span. But at once it closed them again, grimacing with pain.
'Ving no good. I come.'
It followed Hazel docilely enough across the grass, but he was careful to keep out of its reach. Their arrival outside the
wood caused something of a sensation, which Hazel cut short with a peremptory sharpness quite unlike his usual manner.
'Come on, get busy,' he said to Dandelion and Buckthorn. 'This bird's hurt and we're going to shelter it until it's better. Ask Bigwig to show you how to get it some food. It eats worms and insects. Try grasshoppers, spiders - anything. Hawkbit! Acorn! Yes, and you too, Fiver - come out of that rapt trance, or whatever you're in. We need an open, wide hole, broader than it's deep, with a flat floor a little below the level of the entrance: by nightfall.'
'We've been digging all the afternoon, Hazel -'
'I know. I'll come and help you,' said Hazel, 'in just a little while. Only get started. The night's coming.'
The astonished rabbits obeyed him, grumbling. Hazel's authority was put to something of a test, but held firm with the support of Bigwig. Although he had no idea what Hazel had in mind, Bigwig was fascinated by the strength and courage of the bird and had already accepted the idea of taking it in, without troubling himself about the reason. He led the digging while Hazel explained to the bird, as well as he could, how they lived, their ways of protecting themselves from their enemies and the kind of shelter they could provide. The amount of food the rabbits produced was not very large, but once inside the wood the bird clearly felt safer and was able to hobble about and do some foraging for itself.
By owl-time Bigwig and his helpers had scratched out a kind of lobby inside the entrance to one of the runs leading down from the wood. They lined the floor with beech twigs and leaves. As darkness began to fall the bird was installed. It was still suspicious, but seemed to be in a good deal of pain. Evidently, since it could not think of any better plan for itself, it was ready to try a rabbit hole to save its life. From outside, they could see its dark head alert in the gloom, the black eyes still watchful. It was not asleep when they themselves finished a late silflay and went underground.
Black-headed gulls are gregarious. They live in colonies where they forage and feed, chatter and fight all day long. Solitude and reticence are unnatural to them. They move southwards in the breeding-season and at such times a wounded one is only too likely to find itself deserted. The gull's savagery and suspicion had been due partly to pain and partly to the unnerving knowledge that it had no companions and could not fly. By the following morning its natural instincts to mix with a flock and to talk were beginning to return. Bigwig made himself its companion. He would not hear of the gull going out to forage. Before ni-Frith the rabbits had managed to produce as much as it could eat - for a time at all events - and were able to sleep through the heat of the day. Bigwig, however, remained with the gull, making no secret of his admiration, talking and listening to it for several hours. At the evening feed he joined Hazel and Holly near the bank where Bluebell had told his story of El-ahrairah.
'How's the bird now?' asked Hazel.
'A good deal better, I think,' replied Bigwig. 'He's very tough, you know. My goodness, what a life he's had! You don't know what you're missing! I could sit and listen to him all day.'
'How was it hurt?'
'A cat jumped on him in a farmyard. He never heard it until the last moment. It tore the muscle of one of his wings, but apparently he gave it something to remember before he made off. Then he got himself up here somehow or other and just collapsed. Think of standing up to a cat! I can see now that I haven't really started yet. Why shouldn't a rabbit stand up to a cat? Let's just suppose that -'