Fifteen

Blossom Valley was fervently preparing for the celebration, as any day now the cuckoo would be flying over with his spring message.

The stage where the dancing, singing and acting would be performed was finished. But the repairs on the stands had fallen behind as senior rabbit carpenters were in hospital with injuries and broken legs.

Luckily, the jack rabbits, craftsmen in carpentry, offered a helping hand and in no time the stands were restored. Soon afterwards a buzz of activity took over as everyone did their bit to get Blossom Valley spick and span for the big day.

The hedgehogs were rolling along the stage and the stands, their spikes working hard on the wooden planks until they came out smooth and shiny.

The girl ants were making daisy chains, one for every creature to wear round their neck and some spares for visitors who might drop in.

Teams of squirrels and rabbits, trundling the wooden wheelbarrows uphill and downhill, chattering away, whistling and singing, were clearing paths, grass and flower beds of dead leaves, twigs and flower petals. They stored the twigs on the far northern hill, for as they did every spring, the herons would be picking those twigs up for their nest building.

Conti, a gourd swinging from each hand, tore to and fro to fetch water from the pond to water the plants that were wilting under the hot sun. The gourds were the large hollow fruit of a trailing plant that grew wild inside the valley. When their hard skin dried, the squirrels would chisel them into pails. Gourds were scattered across the grounds to provide water for the creatures, or a bath for the smaller birds, and it was Conti’s responsibility to keep them full at all times.

The butterflies and bumblebees were making streamers with flowers of different, dazzling colours to decorate the stage and stands.

The crows promised they’d fly over places where funfairs were held and salvage those balloons that broke free from children’s grasps.

Thelma was on her way to the hospital to cheer the sick and injured with the news that they’d soon be out to celebrate the arrival of spring. She was shielding her eyes from the harsh sunlight when she jolted to a halt. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the intruder. “What on earth are you doing, here?” she yelled. “This is private land and you’re trespassing. Leave at once.”

The grasshopper stooped, snapped the stem of a white daisy and waved it in the air. “I’ve come in peace. There’s no need to be annoyed,” he said, looking around. The sky was empty of birds but on the ground, a number of red squirrels had darted onto the bushes around him, all eyes fixed on him.

“I’m Gaspar,” the grasshopper said with a grin, “head of a powerful and respectable family of grasshoppers. But before I state the reason for my visit, I need to put something straight and make it clear to you that I have as much right to be on this land as you have, cause the land belongs to us all and neither you nor any other creature, whether big or small, weak or powerful, can claim it as theirs. So I am not trespassing.”

Holding her head right up, Thelma replied to his remark with defiance and pride in her voice. “This land, which the trees and ivy seclude from the outside world, has belonged to our ancestors for centuries and has been passed down to our generations. I should know better than you, grasshopper. So yes, this land is ours.”

Gaspar was taken aback by Thelma’s grand manner but only for a short second. He’d stashed some wicked lies in his head, certain that one of them would shackle the old spider’s arrogance.

“That’s a great shame, lady,” he said with a devious grin, “cause my friends, the wood flies, are looking for a place to move in and Blossom Valley seems like a...”

“Stop!” Thelma cried out. “I want to hear nothing from you, for as far as time goes back, your kind, have been liars, bullies and deceivers.”

Gaspar took a step closer to Thelma. His bloodshot eyes stared directly at hers and his hot breath almost touched her face. Thelma drew back in disgust.

“You’ve spoken badly of us, lady,” he said angrily, “and you, being as clever as you make out, should know that all creatures are different and none of us are perfect, but we’re not the names you’ve just called us. You have insulted the grasshoppers’ world, and neither me nor my people will take kindly to it.”

Thelma ignored his angry talk and said scornfully, “So, grasshopper, the wood flies have sent you to speak on their behalf, have they? If the wood flies want to move in with us,” she went on, “they should state their wish themselves, not through a representative such as a grasshopper. We’ve never refused kindly creatures, and there’s plenty of room in Blossom Valley.” She wasn’t keen on the wood flies living on their land but the grasshopper needn’t know that. “You can tell the wood flies, they’ll be welcomed here, only they’ll have to come and see me.”

Gaspar’s temper was heating up and sweat started rolling down his craggy cheeks. But a cooling smile lit up his face as in that instant the spark in his brain ignited an explosive lie that would blast the spider. He swiped his arm across his runny nose and, picking his words carefully said. “The truth is, lady, the wood flies aren’t bothered much about your land. It’s your butterflies they want. The young leader, head of the wood fly swarms, heard about your butterflies and sneaked in to see them. He was enchanted by them, but his eyes settled on one with exceptional beauty, the one you call princess, I believe. He fell in love with her at first sight and wants to marry her. Don’t worry about the rest - there are quite a few second-in-command grooms.”

“Over my dead body will our princess or any of our butterflies marry a wood fly. Did you hear me, grasshopper? Now get out of here.”

Grinding their chiselling teeth, the red squirrels shot out of the bushes and surrounded him.

“No need to use force, fellas,” said the grasshopper, waving the white daisy in front of their eyes. “I’m almost done. There’s one more thing, Thelma. Your name has been on the tip of my tongue all this time and it’s just come to me. It is Thelma, isn’t it? The wood flies are ferocious, brutal and stubborn. They always get what they’ve set their mind upon. They’ll storm your valley and snatch your butterflies in front of your very eyes.” With a horrible cackle the grasshopper turned his back and stalked away with the red squirrels at his heels.

George, who’d been within the valley, still recovering, found Thelma shaking. “We heard it all, Thelma,” he said in a whisper. “Plato was with me and he has already alerted his scout bird to keep a close watch on the grasshopper and the wood flies. Don’t be upset. We won’t let any creature come into the valley. Anyway, the wood flies may not even exist.”

“They do exist, George. There’s a big population of them at Penny Clearing. It’s not them that worry me, it’s Rosa. This was her work, I know it was. The grasshopper knew all about us. He even knew my name. It’s her that scares me George. She won’t rest until the butterflies are...” she choked.