29 A Drowned Rat?

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Stephen Whiteside
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29 A Drowned Rat?

Post by Stephen Whiteside » Thu Nov 10, 2011 5:58 am

29 A Drowned Rat?

© Stephen Whiteside 10.11.2011

At first they followed the top of the bank, and heard the water gurgling a little way below. The going was easy, and they made good progress. After a while, though, they could not mistake the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched. There was no doubt about it. Even at night-time, they were simply too conspicuous.

It was time to change tactics. So they picked their way down to the water’s edge. Here they felt much safer. They were lost in the shadows, and it would be very hard for any animal to track their movements now.

There was a down-side, though. Travel became much more difficult. Countless obstacles seemed to block their progress. First, there was all the flood debris. In particular, branches of dense foliage, and occasionally large branches or even trunks of trees lay across their path. Sometimes they could pick their way through. Sometimes they could climb over. Occasionally they needed to climb the bank, scurry along the top as quickly as possible, and then plunge back down through the long grass and soft earth to the water below.

Then there was the question of the natural geography of the creek. There were times when the bank sloped smoothly all the way down to the water’s edge, but then there were times when the creek seemed to pass through bands of rock, and rock walls would block their way. Of course the recent flood had eroded the banks badly in places, especially on bends, and here there was simply a steep cliff from the bank high above to the water below.

Horatio and Magnifico arrived at one such scoured area. A dilemma faced them. They could, as they had done so many times before, retrace their steps a little and make for higher ground. An alternative tempted them, however. The scoured earth was steep, but far from vertical, especially at the bottom. If they could just retain a grip on it, they could walk around the water instead of facing all the hassle of climbing over it. In truth, Magnifico was keen to climb up and avoid the treacherous-looking unstable earth beside the water. Horatio, though, was desperate to keep moving downstream at all costs. He hated the idea of lost time from the tedious plod up the bank.

Horatio prevailed, and they gingerly placed their feet on this newly exposed earth. They took a little time to find their balance, and then carefully moved forward. It didn’t seem too bad. They continued carefully and, much to Magnifico’s surprise, it seemed that Horatio was indeed right. The angle was such that it would support them both.

Alas, they spoke too soon. The angle continued to increase. It had not been obvious when they began, but the slope was increasing by another five degrees or so - not important normally, but critical in a situation such as this, where the slope was already so steep.

Horatio was at a loss. What to do? He thought of turning around, but didn’t think he could manage it on such a steep grade. There was nothing for it but to press on.

It all happened so quickly. One moment he was on dry ground, the next fully immersed in the freezing waters of the creek. The water closed over his head, and he felt himself falling, falling, until he touched the horrible slimy surface of the mud of the creek bed. Instinctively he kicked away and tried to claw his way to the surface. His natural buoyancy came to his aid, but his lungs now felt they were bursting. He could see the moon-light above him, but it seemed such a long way. How would he get that far without taking a breath first?

At last, his head broke the surface. He went to take a deep breath, but nothing happened! The cold waters held him in a vice, and his chest simply didn’t move. He tried again, and again. At last, something gave. Some air entered his lungs. What a relief! Pure, sweet, blissful air! The stuff of life! So often they had craved for food. Never until now, however, had Horatio craved for pure, simple air! Oh, it felt sweet! Still, there was no time to stop and think.

Fortunately, beside the bank on this bend of the creek, the current was not strong. Horatio could see safety not too far away. At the far end of the undercut bank lay a narrow but low ridge of rock that reached down to the water. If he could just reach that, he would be safe.

But could he swim? He had never swum before. This was not unusual for a civilised rat. Most of the rats in his village had never learnt to swim. There was a hydrotherapy pool near his parents’ nursing home, but that was different. You only had to walk back and forth along the bottom of the pool in hydrotherapy, and the water was shallow enough to allow that.

Well, it looked as though he was about to find out. Sink or swim, as the old saying goes. With a frantic thrashing of all four legs, Horatio willed himself to the shore. That is the best way to describe it. There was no science involved, and certainly no technique. If anything, it was instinct. The instinct for survival.

His progress was not fast, and it was exhausting, but it was progress nonetheless. Eventually, frozen to the core, his sodden, bedraggled form pulled itself wearily from the water onto the low ridge or rock. Horatio paused a few moments to catch his breath, but the wind, even though it was only a soft breeze, chilled him to his bones, and he crept carefully along the rock in search of the shelter of the bank once more.

Of course, Magnifico watched all of this with utter horror! Had he endured so much, only to lose his friend in this way? Had he abandoned the safety of the creek upstream to be with Horatio, only to find himself alone anyway in a much more dangerous place?

Fortunately, being a mouse, his centre of gravity was lower, and he was able to cope with the slight increase of the incline. When Horatio had tumbled into the water he had frozen on the spot, but once he saw that he had once more reached safety, he inched his way forward to meet his friend. It wasn’t easy going, and with every step he felt himself only moments from following Horatio’s troubled course, but he kept his head, made sure his steps, though hurried, were sound, and completed his rendezvous where the rock met the bank.

He immediately embraced his friend, placing his soft, dry head against the sodden neck. Horatio kept all four feet on the ground, and shivered violently. For cold? For emotion? Who can say.
Stephen Whiteside, Australian Poet and Writer
http://www.stephenwhiteside.com.au

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