Twenty

Sometime later that day, Hugo returned to face the crowds of wood flies that spread out by the old oak tree.

“Where is father?” Hector whispered close to Hugo’s ear.

“He’s resting in the old men’s hollow. He’s been hindering my plans. He’s old and stubborn and lives in an age gone by. Things are different now. We have to move with the times, Hector. Anyway, he’ll be better off there. His cronies will keep him good company.”

Hugo walked a few paces closer to the crowds and his voice thundered out. “My people, tomorrow when the sun shows its full face over Sunrise Hill our swarms, led by my brother Hector, my second in command, and me, will attempt a surprise landing on Blossom Valley.”

An old female wood fly suddenly sprang up and blurted out. “You’re leading our men to this surprise landing as you call it, but for all we know it could turn into war. We don’t want to lose our sons, brothers and husbands for the sake of exchanging the ordinary life we’ve lived happily, for the snobbish upper-crust Blossom Valley. Who wants a change anyway?”

“We do! We do!” the younger wood fly generations cried out.

Hugo raised his hand, gesturing for silence. “There will be no war,” he said with calm confidence in his voice. “The surprise landing will be a kind of protest of right against wrong. Our right to live on the land the spider selfishly claims as hers, her wrongfulness in denying us this right and insulting us with her mean, hurtful remarks.”

Then Hugo’s voice brimming with pride rose across Penny Clearing. “We mustn’t let the privileged walk over the ordinary. The spider needs to learn that the wood flies are as important as any of her creatures and we have a right to invade anywhere, if it means a better life for our people.”

“Yeeess! Yeeess!” yelled the wood flies, thrusting their fists above their heads.

Exhausted by the burst of enthusiasm, pride and emotion, Hugo paused for breath. Then addressing the old female by her name he spoke again. “I respect your opinion, Anthea, as I do the opinion of all our people. But I believe a change will bring a renewed existence to our community, better conditions, and a better life. So I urge those of you who have second thoughts to raise their hands now.”

One single hand rose, that of Anthea’s.

“That’s it then,” said Hugo as he glared at Anthea, “a unanimous decision. Now I want all the females, children and elderly to move to where our brothers Phillip, Darius and Phelan are standing. They, together with our father, will take care of things. All men fall in line six abreast, march in the middle of the clearing and wait for orders.”

As everyone started to move, Anthea blurted out. “We were happier with Wilfred, our old faithful, fair and caring leader. Where is he by the way, Hugo?”

Hugo grabbed the arm of one of his men and whispered in his ear. “When everyone has gone from here, take Anthea to the women’s detention hollow. Make sure the bolt is secure.”

Out in the clearing Hugo divided the men into two units. Hector leading his, would go out first. Hugo would keep well behind until Hector and his men were over the wall and inside the valley. “We’ll be camping out here,” said Hugo. “Try and get a good night’s sleep, for a hard day awaits us tomorrow.”

At the crack of dawn, the wood flies were lined up and, after a brief body exercising, they took a short flight over Penny Clearing, practised their formation manoeuvres, then camouflaged themselves in the undergrowth, their eyes pinned to the sky, waiting for the Blossom Valley birds to fly over the clearing and on to the fields.

“This is it, men,” cried Hugo. “The sky is now empty of birds which means, the valley is left unprotected and free for the taking. Let’s do it. Hector! Assemble your men. You are going out first as planned.”

“Come on, men!” Hector ordered. “It’s time we took flight. Keep your humming low or try not to hum at all. Sound travels fast in the wind.”

Swift raced to Blossom Valley with a brief message. “Hector is about to set out. Hugo will follow.”

***

Plato and George took their posts on the top branch of the big fir tree. The two birds sat side by side, silently watching and waiting. George broke the silence. “Aren’t you at all anxious, Plato?” he asked in a quavering whisper.

Plato remained deaf to George’s question. His eyes still and watchful, stared ahead without blinking. A second passed and George poked Plato with the tip of his left wing. “I can see a grey cloud in the horizon racing towards us. Can you see it?”

“Not clearly,” answered Plato, “but I’m certain it isn’t a storm cloud.”

Seconds lingered before George poked him again. “Can’t you see they’re almost upon us, Plato?”

Unperturbed, Plato turned his eyes to George. “Have some faith in me, Crow. I know what I’m doing.” At once, he brought both his wings over his beak and blew through the feathers.

As the signal went out, the blackbirds flew above the trees, flapping and soaring until the sky was painted black. They dived and rose, tipped and turned, gradually falling one by one into a stacking formation. A line of blackbirds hovered in mid-air, then another above them, and lastly a third line. It seemed they were attempting to create a barrier of some sort.

“Hector!” one wood fly screamed, “I can see birds! What’s happening?”

“We’ve been set up, fellas!” Hector bellowed. “Keep your spirits up! Fight! In the name of the wood fly world, let’s show them what we’re made of.”

Spurred on by Hector’s cries, his unit, humming with fury charged forward.

The blackbirds stretched their wings out and the wood flies smashed onto a rigid impenetrable black wall. Huge numbers of shrieking wood flies dropped dead on the ground.

“Volume and belly!” blasted Hector, and at once his men reassembled into a solid mass of wood fly bodies and charged like bats out of hell crashing onto the blackbirds’ bellies. The impact was tremendous. The black wall dissolved and the blackbirds, squawking with agonizing pain, fell on the ground. Some were injured, other died and the rest retreated to the nearest trees.

The wood flies raced for the ivy wall. Plato let out the crows’ signal. The crows rushed out of the ivy, stretched their wings, and with sharp swatting blows, knocked the wood flies down by the dozen. Those rare few that escaped the crows’ blows were bombarded with volleys of acorns and fir cones by the squirrels until every last one had fallen.

Meanwhile on the ground, trained teams of squirrels and rabbits with Red Cross bands on heads and arms and carrying stretchers, were picking up the injured birds and those wood flies that stirred. They rushed them to the Red Cross tent where Tawny Owl and her team could see to them.