The story of Little Acorn

Miriam Lowther

The sun was rising on the early spring morning and there was an air of freshness about the small village of Little Acorn. The long grass was dancing in the slight breeze and the ground was jewelled with dew. Butterflies fluttered playfully amongst the bright new blossom and the crickets were chattering away. The morning was perfect and yet Cornelius Owl sensed disturbance in the countryside. The rest of the villagers were oblivious to the wise birds worries and started their day as every other beautiful morning in the valley. The valley covered miles of countryside, from the north where the weather was icy and the fields barren right down to where it meets the vicious vast sea (something the little Acorn folk could only ever imagine). Little Acorn itself was positioned in the fields hidden deep within the forests that separated the mountains of ice from the open sea. It was protected from weather and man and was home to many different woodland animals and creatures. It was paradise and only one threat was present, the threat that one-day Little Acorn would be invaded by the only animals that could not and would not live in harmony. For the time being this was not spoken of and the animals of Little Acorn began a normal spring day.

The moles were busy on the underground creating yet further webs of tunnels and secret passages. Each mole house was a masterpiece and the elderly mole men spent much time drinking fine dandelion cordial discussing how they designed there own beautiful (in a muddy dim sort of way) homes.

The mice however were out in full and their little town was buzzing with action. They scurried about their daily chores, getting on with their jobs as bakers, grocery owners, carpenters and workers in the post office and general store, and behind all these was yet another busy workforce of little mice in aprons. The children played ball games in the square or in the fields, they frolicked playfully around the huge trees. Life was normal.

So the ground rumbled with the sound of the moles song and on land mice chatted and called hello to each other but we mustn’t forget the skies. The bright blue endless skies were alive too, filled by the jerking flight of the tiny sparrows and little splattering of red-breasted robins, The larger, more graceful black birds, soared high above.

There was another sound in the air that day and the feeling although blissful peace now, held a sense of unease. As the day progressed villagers started gossiping (a normal occurrence for mice and rabbits) but the topic matter was slightly more threatening. The mice told the rabbits who hopped furiously across to inform the pond creatures. The voles and frogs sent messages via sparrows to the squirrels and the squirrels sent word underground to warn the moles. Cornelius listened with interest and worry to the fearful whispers of the simple folk of little acorn,

'...Evil beings, ...

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'...Evil beings, heading this way...'

'...I heard they were coming straight for little Acorn...'

'...Worried for the children...'

'...Hundreds or thousands they say...'

He decided to call together the leaders of the animals and some dear friends to decipher the rumours from the truth and the ‘what to do next’. He sent words to the owls and the Kestrels to fly out across the lands to see what lay ahead he also sent out some trusty Sparrows to call together the following respected gentlemen and leaders: -

Murry Mouse of Oak lane

Marty Mole of Digger Hall

Arthur Rabbit of Hole Court

Sparrow Smith of Treetop View

The list went on until all the animals required were called and the meeting could take place. It would happen at sunset. The birds would be back with the verdict and some sense could be made of the situation.

“Please if you could all just SETTLE DOWN…”

There was a ferocious noise and many different types of creatures were packed tightly inside the small hall usually used for classical concerts and so forth. The atmosphere was gripped with anxiety and panic and some of the smaller animals were shaking. Then Cornelius hammered the solid table with a large tankard, and desperately tried to call everyone hastily to their places so to address them all.

"Now as you all know there has been a lot of rumours going around about a large vermin force nearby hoping to invade little Acorn, and after sending the birds out I can confirm that there is a large army of rats and weasels."

There were horrified gasps around the room and soon agitated shouts were made causing uproar, again Cornelius hammered the table,

"Please, can I have some kind of order gentlemen? Now we have to presume that they have hostile intent and we need to do something about it, anyone got any sensible prepositions?"

"Run away!" came a scared voice

“Fight for our land!” came a deeper shout

Cornelius looked desperately around the crowd for a sensible idea amongst the rabble but all he could see was fear and chaos. Then a small suggestion from a small creature turned chaos into war.

“Well us mice can take on anything so a fight is all that’s needed.”

Followed by an angry growl,

“Yer courdernt scare one rat off on yer own leta loan an army of them.”

“Well what could you do dig them away?”

And the argument was off. Every animal fighting for its own race, and fighting against any other. As wise as old Cornelius was there was nothing he could do but watch. He hoped that the animals would see the error of their ways before it was to late. For now he ruffled his glorious mottled brown feathers spread out his wings and soared straight up and out of the highest window. The crowd below barely noticed through their selfishness and conflict and the meeting came to a bitter end. Every creature to himself and his own kind no matter what the danger.

The following morning the mood was quite different and the sun less bright. The birds were singing a troubled tune and mice everywhere were cleaning their cosy little homes desperate to keep busy. Carpenters and masons were already busy making mess again, preparing catapult parts and bits of weapons. The intellectual mice were crowded round small wooden tables laden with maps and bits of paper covered in complicated scribble planning attacks. Life was thriving and for now excitement exceeded fear. The plan of the mice was one of animal-to-animal combat and through catapults and armour they planned to defeat the ‘black army’. Murry (leader of all mice) scuttled between fighters, workers and thinkers adding comments where he felt necessary. He was skeptical about the force of his army but would not reveal his cowardice to any one of his fellow mice no matter what their part in it all. The intellects conversed the issue of getting close enough to the opposition without raising alarms.

The moles were deep underground also busy. Not with weapons and armour but with shovels at the ready. The moles had worked through the night with a candle as their guide following paths out deep into the field. Their tactic was attacking from beneath in the hope of scaring away the enemy (combat was not a strong point for the slightly shortsighted moles). Marty was also bustling through the crowds with words of wisdom for his fellow workers. He himself was confident in their plan but if it didn’t work he feared for the lives of his kinfolk and for his own life.

The sparrows were also busy high up in the trees chirping orders and instructions to all the sparrows of Little Acorn. The leaders fretted. Their army was small, their power weak ‘what use was it’ Sparrow Smith kept muttering. There was talk of immigration, flying far away across the valley to a safer place. Their plan to attack from above with sticks and rocks was a good plan but not strong enough on its own. They had little hope and throughout the town worry spread like the rumours had and many pleaded with leaders to reconsider but each was to proud to admit trouble.

Cornelius, deeply concerned by the ever approaching ‘black army’, had hope in his terrified army’s and new their worries would save them. He swooped down below ground to Marty, across the field to Murry and to his natural environment high in the trees where Sparrow Smith still had a furrowed brow. He spread his words of wisdom around the village to every animal and as the sun set he flew east to his own home in the highest branch of the oldest Poplar in all the valley. He waited with a settled feeling inside.

The first blinding rays of light crept over the hills of little Acorn as the sun began its journey across the sky. It was shadowed that morning by a black cloud approaching the village and the outcome of that day was still unknown.

The sun was now high in the clear blue sky and was beating intensely down on the backs of the little mice as they marched determinedly towards the peak of the small hillock. There was no birdsong today and an eerie silence was creeping across the fields, tension was rising and mice were shaking despite the heat.

As Murry was leading the pack towards the summit, a monstrous scent reached his nose, it made his whiskers tingle and he felt sick, it was the smell of rats, rats and weasels, he knew already there were a lot of them and panic began to grip him, he looked around at his fellow comrades, they too could smell the enemy, eyes wide and cheekbones twitching with fear.

‘Brave mice’ he thought, as they knew what lay ahead of them. Slowly, the hill seemed to fall away, and as Murry took that last step to the top of the hill he was horrified by what he saw, a huge black forest of rats and weasels, he stood there shaking, knowing this would be the last time he saw the midday sun.

As the rest of the mice clambered up to the top, many experienced the same and there were a lot of frightened gasps, and terrified faces. Murry knew that they were outnumbered, possibly even doubled; he knew he was going to die.

Somewhere, however, something was moving, as the ground was shaking, and Murry prayed to God, please don’t let it be more rats, but as soon as the prayer had escaped his lips was he sent flying backwards, cracking his head against the ground, he picked himself up, and where he had been standing a moment ago was a large brown mound of earth, and stout black furry things were pouring out like water, then relief came upon him. The moles were here. Possibly a hundred of them came, dressed not in their usual dungarees and hard hats but ready for war, wearing bulky leather armour and each carrying a large stone club.

“We courdernt leave yer alls on yer own against thy vermin yonder” Marty smiled and winked his small short-sighted eye at Murry

“And we are very grateful for that, but we need to put up a brave fight, as disciplined as we are, still we are outnumbered.”

And a most peculiar thing happened, Marty started laughing, not nervously but a deep hearted belly laugh as if he’d had too much root beer, and as Murry was becoming exasperated at his friends light hearted approach to the situation he looked up, and in the air was a dark cloud of birds, sparrows, robins and high above all the others was Cornelius. A broad grin crept across Murry’s face as the surrounding countryside bristled with life, out of the long grass came many an eccentric long eared rabbit.

“Not too late for the bally old battle I hope chaps, off the hammer the vermin, I say!”

And leaping out of the trees came a stream of squirrels, thick bushy tails guiding them down gently to the left of the mice, and as every last creature came to Murry’s side he cried out.

“Time for the War Cry Men, 1…2…3…RAAAAARGH!”

And with the mighty clamour that was caused the black enemy ran, once a formidable opponent, now leaving nothing but flattened grass and a foul smell, and once again peace settled around the whole of Little Acorn.