Disability Arts Online

The rain had eased in a coppice in middle England. The animals were moving out along the branches towards their feeding grounds. The trees were beginning to shake their leaves dry.

Suddenly the ground started shaking as if a thousand rhinos were charging. A machine the size of a house with a huge steel claw grabbed a big old oak around its waist and with one massive tug ripped it clean out of the ground, leaving a hole the size of a bus. Three other machines were ripping and tearing through everything. It was done before anyone knew what was happening. Only a few of the birds escaped. The insects, squirrels, rabbits and foxes were lost! So too were the daffodils, bluebells and the white beds of wild garlic. The iron tracks of the machines just pulverised them.

Humans in yellow hats were following behind the machines like soldiers behind a tank. Then they were slicing up the oak with their chainsaws. The trees brown innards were being sprayed over the forest floor. Their arms were cut off, then thrown into another machine which powdered them into a following wagon.

A similar machine was moving towards the big poplar that was right in the middle of the coppice where two young red squirrels had been cheering and whooping about getting to the top. They were now shaking with fear.

Bogarth the crow and a few of the pigeons were in full flight when they saw the squirrels waving for help. They tucked in their wings and dive-bombed towards the top of the poplar. Their claws were outstretched.

“Quick, don't be frightened, grab hold of my feet!” shouted one of the pigeons.

Nothing.

“Let me try!” Bogarth shouted. “I promise I won't drop you!”

“We can't! We're too frightened,” they squealed.

Bogarth was circling again, ready to go in closer. He knew he wouldn't get another chance. This was it. He tucked his black wings tight into his chest, head down, beak out, pointed like a jet plane zooming down, down towards the top of the trees. He instinctively knew he wouldn't get there in time, but he had to try. He felt a sudden gust of wind. It was an eagle, passing him at twice the speed he could go, its claws outstretched. “No!” Bogarth shouted. “Leave them alone!”

The talons of the eagle stretched outwards, wide. Talons strong and wide enough to lift a child or a young sheep.

On the ground the machine was grabbing the poplar by the waist. The squirrels were being tossed about as the machine tugged at the tree.

“Hurry!” shouted the Poplar. “I can't hold them back much longer!”

It was only the huge network of roots which had prevented the machine from pulling the poplar out. The squirrels were holding on for dear life. The machines were growling louder than ever, angry. Smoke bellowed as the machine moved in for the kill. There was a sudden jerk. The mighty tree was moving upwards. Suddenly the tree lost its grip with the soil. It knew it was going to die. But it had to grip onto to whatever earth it could, to give the squirrels time. It was hopeless. The tree was being lifted clean out.

“No!” screamed the crow as the tree began to move.

Nests with newly hatched eggs were falling to the ground below. The thousands of insects who depended on that tree for their food and survival were dropping to the floor.

Smoke belched out of the machines; their growling was deafening. The big tree was falling… The squirrels were screaming. Suddenly out of nowhere came the eagle, its talons stretched as wide as they could be stretched. His wings were slanted back. The eagle was going to overshoot, it was going to miss the squirrels. Suddenly its brown wings flapped, stretched out to two meters wide catching the wind. Its talons went down, wide. The great bird was slowing. The squirrels were about to fall out of the tree when the eagle plucked them to safety and then swooped upwards then down towards the ground where they were safe.

The eagle said nothing as it swooped away out of sight.

The survivors gathered on the ground in the other field. All that was left was a magpie, a crow and the two red squirrels.

“Who was that?” asked the magpie.

“I don't know”, said Bogarth, the crow. “There are no eagles around here!”

“Anyway, who are you?” asked Bogarth. “I've seen you around but I don't know your name.”

“I'm Coy of the north field magpies!”

“It looks to me like you're the only magpie, are you OK?”

Coy nodded. “These two squirrels don't look so good, though. Look at them. They can't stop shaking!”

“They'll be alright in a while.” Bogarth said.

“What are your names?” Coy asked the squirrels.

“I'm Ben,” said the bigger of the two “and this is Mildred. We'd just got it together, you know, we were thinking of starting a family and things. You know what I mean?”

“I'm sorry,” said Coy.

“It'll happen” said Ben. “We just want to be happy! That's all; why don't they leave us all alone?”

“I don't know” said Bogarth. “I'll tell you something. It's not going to happen again. They have to be stopped!”

“Adam needs to know all about this!” said Ben.

Bogarth was too busy looking out towards the coppice.

“What are you looking for?” asked Coy

“Surely there's more of us than this?” asked Bogarth.

“You need,” shouted the squirrel. “To go and tell Adam!”

There was a long silence before Coy, the magpie said, “No!” hopping around everyone.

“Am I talking to myself or what?” asked Ben.

“What are you chattering on about?” asked Coy.

“Adam will know what to do. He knows everything!”

“Adam!” said Coy. “My mother used to tell me stories about Adam the great oak tree. That can't be him. He must be dead by now!”

“Oh, he's old alright. But he's still very much alive.”

“He is," said Mildred, the other squirrel. “We get lots of acorns from him. He lets us all play on his arms. It's like, well, I was going to say it used to be like one big family? It's all going to go isn't it. I can feel it in the wind.”

“Take it easy,” said Bogarth. “Our day will come. They cannot keep doing this! Come on, we have got to go over and warn Borsdane. They may be next!”

“We live in Borsdane Woods. That's where Adam lives. You have to speak to Adam. He knows everything. He'll know what to do.”

“Come on, then, hurry!” shouted Bogarth. “We haven't much time!”

“Wait for us,” shouted the squirrels.

In the distance they could see a huge mixed woodland, where beech and elm pricked holes in the sky. There was another huge poplar, and hundreds of pine trees. He'd only heard about this wood from some of the other crows. He'd been told this was the wood where anyone could get up at the monthly Council and say what ever they wanted. They could talk about anything. Each and everyone could have their say. It didn't matter if you were a centipede, or a fox. You were given five minutes to say whatever you wanted. Bogarth knew he had to get to them to Borsdane Wood. He knew he had to warn them.

He turned for a final glimpse. The machines had taken over. Not one tree was standing. Smoke was rising from what had been their home.