Seventeen

Nothing much had changed since the last time Gaspar had been down this way. The majestic old oak tree still stood there, its great limbs gnarled and darkened, stretching across the clearing. He shaded his eyes from the dazzling sun and slowly trudged along.

The old oak tree hollow was crammed with wood flies. A huge number were chasing each other up and down the enormous oak tree trunk and loads more were loafing on the grass. The humming was loud and the smell unwelcoming.

One wood fly spotted him and sluggishly walked towards him. It was his old mate, Wilfred, head of the wood flies. His face was withered with age and his swollen belly wobbled like soft jelly as he moved closer.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Gaspar, our long lost mate,” he said with a chuckle. “Come and see fellas.”

Heaps of wood flies poured out of the hollow as if tipped out of a huge bucket. They blinked and peered at him, as if they’d just woken up or had sore eyes.

“We had you for dead mate,” Wilfred said, “cause you do get yourself mixed up in some dodgy doings and...”

“I’m done with dodgy stuff,” Gaspar interrupted. “And if you’re asking about my gang, they’re still loyal to me. I left them behind cause it’s something very important I’ve come to talk to you about. But first let me hear your news, Wilfred. How has it been for you?”

“We aren’t complaining, mate,” Wilfred replied, patting his belly. “Life’s been good for us. Food is plentiful around here and our women look after us well. Other than that, it’s the same old life. Mind you, we’re glad now that spring’s here. We can stretch out in the sun, the best part of the day.”

“Some life,” Gaspar snorted. “Dull, boring no excitement no purpose. Idle life has made you obese, Wilfred. You need to be active, have fun, exercise.”

“We do exercise,” a group of wood flies resting on the brim of the hollow blurted out.

“We go over the fields.” Wilfred took over. “We do our formation flights. We’re the best in the wood fly world, you know. Mind you, me and my age group don’t do much. We mostly watch and advise.” Then he went silent, staring at the grasshopper, his eyes full of suspicion. “What is it you’re after, Gaspar? You haven’t showed up to give us advice on healthy living, that’s for sure. So I’d better warn you, if it’s anything to do with your old pranks, you’re wasting your time and ours.”

“I know that a lot of my doings haven’t been good, Wilfred, and some have been terrible.” Gaspar tried to sound regretful. “But it takes all sorts to make the world, doesn’t it? Those bad old days are long gone. Age has changed me to a better being. No more scheming, bullying and fighting. I’ve done it all. I’ve been looking for a place for me and my men to settle down and lead a peaceful life and that’s the reason I’m here, Wilfred. Wandering through the meadow the other day, I overheard some ladybirds talking about a place called Blossom Valley. Have you heard of it?”

Wilfred let his head drop in a nod, then opened his mouth and let out a long loud yawn. “I’m getting bored, mate,” he moaned. “Where are you taking us with all this?”

“Be patient, it’ll get more interesting as I go on. The ladybirds were saying that Blossom Valley is a magical place where butterfly princes and princesses live, and I couldn’t believe my ears when they said an enormous spider runs the place. To cut a long story short, I found the place and sneaked in. Mates, you’ve never seen anything like it. Its beauty blew me away. I was trotting along, trying to take it all in, when the spider stomped in front of me. This place is private land and you are trespassing, she said. I am the head of this place and I order you out or I’ll have you removed. Five or six squirrels darted out of nowhere and stood in front of me waiting for the spider’s order to tear me apart. I was scared stiff, of course I was, but I was determined to stand up to her. This isn’t private land, I said to her. It belongs to us all to live in, and no creature whether small or big, weak or mighty, can claim it as theirs. Isn’t that right, mate? Correct me if you think I’m wrong.”

“No, you’re not wrong, mate,” Wilfred replied, shaking his head.

“No, no,” the wood flies mumbled together, shaking their heads.

“Once we had a fox,” an old wood fly started. “Do you remember, fellas?”

They all nodded.

“A pack of hounds were after her. She dashed into our hollow. We didn’t turn her away cause it was our own home. Instead we blocked the hollow with our bodies. The hounds lost her scent and we were chuffed we’d saved her life. Isn’t that right, fellas?”

“Y...eees” they all groaned.

“Private land, be blowed,” said the old wood fly, belching loudly. “Farmers call their land private, cause they’re humans and buy the farmland from other humans, if you know what I mean.”

“Well said, my friend,” said Gaspar, eager to carry on. “Going back to the spider, I said to her, me and my friends the wood flies are looking for a place to live and Blossom Valley seems nice enough. So what makes you think you’ve got the right to refuse us? Without any hesitation and with an air of superiority she said, I have complete authority over this place and wood flies are not the sort of creatures I’d welcome in. They’re rough and foul and I wouldn’t welcome conniving grasshoppers either. You’ve heard my answer, she said, now get out. I was boiling with anger and wanted to give her a kick when the squirrels darted at me, gnashing their teeth.” Gaspar drew breath and was about to carry on, when Wilfred stopped him.

“Hold it there, mate,” he said, cause you’ve got me a little confused. Did you ever hear us say we’re in need of a home? It’s you and your gang that have always been homeless. Besides, who gave you the right to speak to the spider on our behalf? Cause I’m telling you her remarks have upset me real deep.” He gave Gaspar a long considering look. “If I know you, and I know you well, you’ve never given a toss about us nor, anyone else. All you’ve ever cared was what you’d get out of it. So what’s the catch, grasshopper? What’s inside that cunning brain of yours?”

Never before had Wilfred called him grasshopper, and that worried Gaspar. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and his jaw twitched nervously. He glanced over at the crowds of wood flies and his gaze rested on Wilfred’s suspicious face.

“There’s no catch mate,” he said with certainty in his voice. “It’s genuine through and through. I have friends, of course I have, who’d give their right arm to live in place like Blossom Valley. But they’re the troublesome lot from my old days and I’ve broken away from them. Blossom Valley is a vast place, too big for a handful of us. My gang has shrunk since I last saw you.” He faked sadness in his voice. “I’ve lost some of my best men. You’ve been my mates for donkeys’ years and I trust you cause you’re honest creatures. This is the reason I’m here today, to offer you this golden opportunity to move with me and my men to Blossom Valley.

“Your population has grown since I last saw you, and the squalid conditions you live in crammed up in these hollows are unacceptable for you but more so for your females and the young ones. Blossom Valley is a paradise with gardens you’ve never imagined, streams and ponds where you can wash yourselves or have a swim and there’s more trees and hollows than you can count. The females will love it there, especially the young ones who can mix with the noble butterflies, and you never know, some butterfly prince may fall in love with them.”

The young female wood flies hid themselves behind each other and squealed bashfully.

Gaspar spotted the excitement in their eyes, and the shy smile that came to their faces and a tingle of encouragement went through him. “Well?” he prompted Wilfred with a long stare.

But the old wood fly, wise to the grasshopper’s devious nature, remained unimpressed and disinterested.

The grasshopper coughed to draw everyone’s attention for all he could do now was bluff.

“Well mates,” he said trying to hide all trace of disappointment, “you’ve heard all that I said. If you’re still, doubting me you’ve only got to say so, and I’ll be on my way.”

Wilfred glanced at his people and his people glanced at him. It seemed that Gaspar’s words had brightened their cheerless faces and put a sparkle in their dull eyes.

“I must say, Gaspar,” he began, “you did well to stand up to the spider the way you did. Her arrogance has angered me but her harsh words against us wood flies have hurt me deeply cause all us creatures are what we are. That’s how nature made us; we didn’t choose what to be. But we all have a purpose on this earth and no creature more privileged than us should despise us. So somebody should tell the spider that. As to whether we want to move, it’s not up to me to decide. I’ve handed the leadership over to my eldest son, Hugo, who makes the decisions now.”

“How come you have retired, Wilfred? Have you been in poor health?” Gaspar asked his question in a deep tone of concern to hide his disappointment. A young new leader might not fall for his scheme. It was possible he’d heard Wilfred talk about Gaspar’s devious past, and would be wary of him. Shame, for it had been going so well.

“No mate,” Wilfred replied, “I’m as fit as a fiddle. Hugo is a good son, but I still guide him and I’m certain he will be a sensible and fair leader to our people.”