George the Orphan Crow and the Creatures of Blossom Valley Read online

  The crow’s, question startled Thelma and her brow furrowed with annoyance. A newcomer shouldn’t be asking questions, she thought to herself, and she wasn’t prepared to tell him. Aside from her, only Plato and the butterflies knew, but they never talked about it for the memory was too horrific.

  After the kingdom was lost, Blossom Valley plunged into desolate and dark times until all kinds of creatures from neighbouring and far away woods, hills and plains moved in. They built homes and made families and as the years passed Blossom Valley became a large community of all sorts of creatures. They wondered that the rare beauty of the butterflies wasn’t that of the ordinary butterflies they had seen fluttering over flowers, in woods and meadows. They made up their minds that these were magical creatures from some distant world and left it at that. They fawned on them but otherwise regarded them as members of the community like everyone else.

  George was bewitched by them and it was normal that he’d be curious and, Thelma considered, George did no wrong in wanting to know more about the lost kingdom. After all, he wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t mentioned it. She shouldn’t have frowned at a creature who had been orphaned only hours ago and prayed that George hadn’t noticed her annoyance.

  It took her a while before the words came out of her mouth.

  “The story goes back many years, George, and it’s best left alone. You’ll soon get to know everyone here including the butterflies who spend the mornings at the schools. They teach the ant classes, music and singing.”

  George looked baffled and Thelma noticed it. “Our ant choir is one of the best in the ant world. The bigger creatures, those who want to learn music or dancing, go to the Music Hall. Our butterflies who are gifted with exceptional voices teach them singing and Mr B Rabbit, a tap-dancing champion, teaches them to tap-dance. Our community is made up of families of all kinds and sizes of creatures. Each family lives its own private life, and all have a say in our community. All families we join together in one peaceful greater family. We gather at dusk to mix together, hear one another’s news or stories and have fun. What we do not allow in our community”- her voice rose - “is bullying or harming one another, and of course we unite against any threat to our community.”

  Her voice was clear and determined and George thought that a spider, even one her size couldn’t lead such a large community unless she had some secret or perhaps magical power hidden inside her.

  “Goodness!” Thelma shouted and George jolted out of his thoughts. “I’ve got carried away. I’m sorry if I’ve bored you, George. Don’t look so apprehensive. Cheer up. We’re glad to have you in our family. You’ll be happy with us.”

  A loud caw made George jump.

  “It’s the crow family,” Thelma explained. “They are on the ivy wall, waiting to meet you. We’ll see you later, George. Your friends will bring you down to the gathering.”

  Four

  A pale moon was floating over Blossom Valley when George and his fellow crows came down to the gathering.

  “Some of us flock up on the elm tree,” said Alphie, one of the younger crows. “You’ll find others by the white rock where Speedo the snail tells them stories. And if you hear screams and cheers, it’ll be the crows and rabbits kicking the conker, on a stretch of trimmed grass we call the Football Clearing. You’ll find it by the cluster of chestnut trees. Have a wander around, George. There’s a lot to see.”

  “I’ll do just that. Thanks, Alphie,” said George and trotted off.

  Squabbling loudly, the blackbirds flocked up onto the elm tree and kept on bickering among themselves until the wrens flew in. Their sweet evening trills drifted across the valley and all the creatures fell silent, enjoying the tranquillity of the dusk. Only Robin Redbreast wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He kept chirping and frolicking from bush to bush.

  “Can’t you stay still for five minutes, Robin? You’re giving me a headache watching you,” a pot-bellied sparrow complained in a shrilly chirp. “Relax, like all of us are trying to do.”

  Robin drew his feathers tight round him in anger. “Of all birds, to have been insulted by a common sparrow,” he mumbled, but loud enough to be heard. Then he flew away.

  Red squirrels and hedgehogs were spread out upon a mossy bank, the squirrels chattering away and munching at the same time, their jaws moving up and down with machine-like precision.

  “We can’t understand a word you’re saying,” an old hedgehog grumbled. “Empty your mouth before you talk. No manners!”

  “Granny Hedgehog...” A squirrel tried to say something, but Granny Hedgehog, huffing loudly through her nose, was waddling away. She settled with a group of rabbits and watched the tap-dancing rabbits practising for the upcoming tap-dancing competition.

  Loud voices and screams were coming from the chestnut trees and George hurried towards them, eager to see how crows could ever manage to play football. He opened his mouth in amazement when he saw them running between the rabbits’ legs, trying to steal the conker and keep it away from their half. The conker suddenly landed on the foot of the black rabbit who gave it an almighty kick and sent it flying towards the crows’ goal post. The crow goal keeper jumped up, stretched out his wings and hit the conker with such force, it raced back and straight into the rabbits’ net.

  The crows clapped with their wings, danced, screamed and cheered and George joined them in their excitement.

  “I wish you could teach me a few tricks. I’d love to learn the game,” George told the crow goal keeper.

  “We’ll be glad to,” he said. “Join us at the training tomorrow or any early afternoon of the week. Call me Ted and you are George. Pleased, to meet you,” said the goal keeper, wiping the sweat that was running down his nose.

  On his way down to the pond George stumbled by the white rock and paused to watch the snail who sat on the rock, his feelers bobbing up and down and his tiny eyes sparkling. Just below the rock, on a small patch of soft ground, hedgehogs, squirrels and ants, crows and sparrows were spread, all still and silent, listening, their eyes widening here, narrowing there, then bursting into laughter.

  “That’s all until tomorrow,” said the snail. “It’s time we went down to the pond.”

  ***

  “We’re in for some real excitement,” the frog croaked excitedly and everyone’s head turned towards the tall fir tree where Bond, the red squirrel, was tying a vine between two branches at the very top.

  “What’s that?” asked George.

  “It’s a tightrope,” Conti the frog explained. “Bond and his team will perform acrobatics on it.”

  The creatures burst out into wild whistling when Bond stepped on the tightrope, swinging his head and body to a rhythm. He bowed and, flipping a series of backward somersaults, reached the end of the rope and disappeared into the tree. Within seconds he was back on the vine, spinning round and round in a succession of cartwheels, slowly at first, then a little faster, and then with such speed that he became a blurred ball of red fluff.

  The spectators erupted into delirious screaming, clapping and stamping, but in the next instant everyone hushed and held their breath. The knots on one end of the vine came undone and Bond was heading for a nasty crash on the rocks that lay on the ground right beneath him. The creatures sprang to their feet, oohing and aahing, for the red squirrel was but a couple of inches away from crashing onto the sharp edges of the jagged rocks. But at the last instant the frayed end of the vine swayed in front of his face. Bond snatched it with his teeth, swung wildly in the air and landed on the ground. He saw Thelma standing close by and Tawny Owl, the nurse, next to her.

  “Sorry, if I worried everyone,” he said, then bowed.

  In the midst of all the excitement, Conti plunged into his pond, surfaced with a series of spluttering gasps and started his tune. The more excited he got, the louder he sang. Some creatures clapped their wings ove
r their ears.

  “Give us some peace, you noisy green beast!” the blackbirds moaned. “It’s been a hard day.”

  The frog stopped and leapt close to George. “The other creatures don’t seem to mind my singing,” he sputtered. “It’s them, the blackbirds, always whinging and fussing. It’s in their nature, I’m telling you.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t mean your singing isn’t good,” said George, feeling sorry for the frog. “It’s possible they’ve had a hard day, for the sky can be a dangerous place. Predators perhaps, and have you thought that classical tunes may not be everybody’s taste, especially at this hour?”

  Conti’s wet eyes, full of sincerity, stared at George.

  “I knew you were a kindly and understanding creature the minute I saw you, George,” he said. Then he stretched his neck close to George’s ear. “Weird things are happening and I need to talk to you about them. I tell Thelma. She won’t listen but I know you will. There’re these scary groans and muffled cries I hear in my pond when the moon becomes full, and...”

  At that moment Thelma walked across the grass. She raised her hands and spoke. “Good evening everyone.”

  “Good evening,” said the voices from across the valley.

  “Firstly, I would like all of us to say a welcoming hello to George, the crow, who joined our family today.”

  “Hello, George!” everyone shouted.

  “Hello, to you all,” George answered.

  Then Thelma clapped her hands. “Are all the members of our families here?”

  “Yes,” came the reply.

  “Are there any problems to be discussed?”

  “No,” the creatures chorused.

  “Then, let us all sing our Good Night Song.”

  Every creature threw their heads back and sang.

  Our day is about to end

  Soon night will descend but only for a short while

  Our pale moon will now ride in the sky

  To put on her silver dress for the night and switch on the stars

  That will twinkle over our valley until the night will glide

  Into a dawn joyful and bright

  Good night everyone. Sleep tight.

  The creatures made their way home while George trotted over to Thelma. He was surprised to see Plato talking to her.

  “Hello, George,” said Plato. I can tell you’re settling in and I’m pleased for you.”

  “I am,” said George. “How can I ever repay you, Plato?”

  “Just be my friend,” he replied, then took to the sky, heading for Penny Wood and his night hunt.

  Five

  George felt tired and couldn’t wait to get to his roost. He was about to get off the ground when the branches of a bush swung across his path and a fearsome ladybird darted out.

  “Oh!” George gasped.

  “What’s the matter, Crow?” the ladybird screeched. “You haven’t seen a ladybird before?”

  “Forgive me, lady,” George replied with a polite bow. “I’m the new crow, George.”

  “I know who you are,” she snapped. “No news escapes me, and I’m Rosa, if you care to know.”

  “I didn’t see any ladybirds at the gathering,” George said hesitantly.

  “You didn’t cause we don’t go there.”

  “Why?”

  “Cause they don’t like us and we don’t like them. They’ve looked down on me and my daughters ever since we came. They’ve got eyes only for them... the butterflies and we hate them for that. What have they got over us, I ask you, Crow? We are five spot ladybirds, the rarest of the species. Take a look at my shell, Crow,” she said and swivelled round. In the remains of the sunset glow that slanted through the trees, her shell shone a brilliant red tinged with orange, and her spots glistened like five black gems.

  “You see, Crow,” she beamed with pride. “We’re special, we’re not common. She, the spider, calls Estella, Princess, and Orpheo, Prince.” She curled her lips into a sneer. “Rubbish! Where there’s a prince or a princess, there’s a palace. Am I right, Crow? Go on correct me if you think I’m wrong. Now I’m asking you, Crow, did you see a palace in Blossom Valley?”

  “No I didn’t,” he stammered. “This is my first day here. I couldn’t see everything.”

  “No you didn’t, and you never will, crow, cause there isn’t one.”

  George’s mind drifted back to what Thelma had said. ‘Their Kingdom was destroyed.’

  “I know what you’re thinking, Crow, cause I heard all that the spider told you. If ever there was a palace, it can’t have disappeared in a huff of smoke. There would be some remains scattered or buried somewhere in this place. I’ve looked and found nothing. I’m telling you, Crow, it’s her, the spider, has made up the myth that her and her butterflies live by.

  She gets stroppy every time my daughters go near them, accusing them of bullying her butterflies. She claimed my Heather tried to drown prince Orpheo. That was a lie the old wrinkly frog made up and she believed him. Why are they so precious to her? I’m asking you, Crow. And who is she, a spider, even her size, to be the head of this vast place? It’s odd, isn’t it? Something weird, spooky, goes on in here, I’m telling you, Crow. She wants to see the back of us. I know. I’m not daft. We’ll go, but not before...”

  “Rosa,” George interrupted, “it saddens me to hear a beautiful ladybird such as you, use harsh words and bear awful thoughts against fellow creatures. They’re all a big family here who respect and look out for one another. You have stayed apart. Try and find the reason why. Is it jealousy? Is it hatred? Then get rid of it. Join the family and you and your daughters will feel a lot happier, trust me.”

  Rosa stared at George, listening to every word he spoke in utter stillness. Maybe, she thought, the crow was right. Change, get rid of her jealousy be a better creature, be family with the spider and the butterflies. Be nice to them? No.! She jerked as if she were waking from a nightmare. No, I was born like this and no one told me there was another way. Why change now? I enjoy it as I am. I won’t change. Not now that me and my Heather are working on a wicked plan that will shudder the spider and the whole Valley for many years to come. She thrust her sneering face close to George’s.

  “Well, I’ll be blowed!” she screeched. “Trust a stupid crow to come up with a speech as stupid as this. Join the family! Ha!” She gave George a black glare and took off in a huff.

  George stayed rooted to the ground, too upset to move. All sorts of thoughts and questions whirled inside his head but all he needed now was his roost to lie in.

  His fellow crows were nestled, all snug and fast asleep. He tried to push all thoughts out of his head, but as darkness gathered round him he felt lonely. He thought of his parents and broke into silent sobs. The crows stirred.

  “Hey,” whispered, Alphie, from the next roost. “Don’t cry. You miss your parents, we understand, but you’re not alone now. We’re here for you, all of us. Try and get some sleep. Things will look brighter in the morning, you’ll see.”

  Alphie’s kind words brought more tears to his eyes. He felt bad for disturbing them, so he quietly slipped out of his roost. He found a thick bush, hunched his head deep inside his wings and closed his eyes.

  Six

  A pink dawn was breaking when George opened his bleary eyes the next day. He took a gulp of fresh air and flapped his wings to exercise their muscles. He spent time preening his feathers and then set off for the pond.

  He’d walked just a few paces when he heard light pattering behind him. He feared the ladybird might be following him and spun round.

  “Good morning, Thelma,” he said, relief written all over his face. “I’m glad I’ll have the chance to talk to you, if you’re not too busy.”

  “I’m never too busy to listen, George, anything wrong?
You look apprehensive.”

  George hesitated.

  “Well?” Thelma prompted, her eyes widening with curiosity.

  “Rosa, the ladybird, bumped into me after the gathering. She knew my name before I...”

  “Rosa misses very little,” Thelma interrupted, “for she spends a lot of her time watching and earwigging. What did she have to say, anyway?” she asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

  George couldn’t bring himself to repeat Rosa’s hateful words and thoughts. “Not much,” he replied, “but her tongue was unkind when she spoke about you and the butterflies.”

  Thelma let out a long deep sigh then rested her eyes upon George. “We welcomed Rosa and her daughters a while back. The sob-story she told us touched us all in our community. I now wonder if there was any truth in it. They kept themselves to themselves for a time and we respected that. But as time passed they became jealous of the butterflies for their beauty and the voices they’re gifted with. Amongst other things, Heather, Rosa’s eldest daughter, took a fancy to Prince Orpheo and kept shadowing him. When she was told to stay away, she turned vengeful. With her sisters’ help, she tried to drown Prince Orpheo in the pond. Had Conti not been there, the prince would be dead today. Then they turned against the butterflies, especially Estella. They kept teasing and bullying them in a spiteful manner. I reprimanded them severely, of course I did. It is my job to protect the weak and vulnerable, especially the butterflies who are precious to me and Blossom Valley.”

  While Thelma was talking, all sorts of thoughts tumbled inside George’s head. “Why are the butterflies so precious to her? Is she their mother, turned into a spider by the evil force? Did she commit some dreadful deed and was punished or...? Phew! Too many riddles for my brain to guess,” he muttered silently to himself. “I won’t trouble my brain again. The riddle or riddles will be answered one day. I’ll just have to wait.”

  Suddenly, swirls of beautiful music drifted across the valley, followed by heavenly singing.