Fishing (part 2)
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"So, Miss Hopps…" the Otter began to say, the words trailing off on his lips as he thought. "What takes you out this way? And with a Fox, too?"
"Can you say that again please?" Judy asked, raising her voice so that it reached through the thick timber door that separates the two.
"What takes you out this way, and with a Fox too?" he repeated.
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He'd been swimming his daily laps on his mill pond when he'd found the two kits, immediately seeing that one was in distress. Although the boy looked like he'd been tending to her, he couldn't help but wonder whether he'd had anything to do with her sorry state. Thankfully, he'd helped her along the banks of the pond and back to the mill house, before saying that they'd been sent there to go fishing. While Tarka had a dim view of mammals taking food from what he considered his personal larder (which his father had taken great care in stocking with a healthy variety of fish), he'd opened up given the ongoing rationing (with a few caveats of course). So, the fox had left to set up some kind of fish trap and then use his pole and line, leaving the bunny as his responsibility. He always enjoyed a hot bath after his swims and, with the large copper he heated his water in already simmering, it was fairly easy to give it to someone with a much greater need.
There were some issues though, and he'd sighed that this sudden complexity in his life was only getting more-so as time passed. Given her state, it was pointless for the Bunny to have a proper bath until she'd rinsed off most of the mud and removed all of the hitchhiking flora from her fur. As far as he saw it, the solution was obvious. Up by the millhouse the water was deep and a quick jump in would clean off the worst of it. But, despite being warmed up throughout summer, the water was still too cold for her, or so she said. As a result, he'd suggested that she just stand by the side and strip to her underwear, while he'd mix up some warm water that he'd shower her with. Thankfully she'd agreed, so he returned to his home, mixed up some warm water in a kettle and returned.
Before immediately pushing her in.
"If it's really that bad, better to get it over with," he'd instructed her as her head burst from the water. Her teeth chattering, she looked up with a glare that could put the fear into anyone, even the oafish mutt Deadlock that tried to make Tarka's life a misery every other year or so. "Now get scrubbing, because if you come out and aren't clean enough, I'll be tossing you back in!"
Thankfully she did as was asked and was quickly scrubbing herself. Working her fingers under her fur, the thick slime that had coated her ws soon floating away. Most of the stickyweed had gone too, though the burrs were a lot more persistent in their attachment.
"Right, that'll do." he announced after a couple of minutes. "I do have a warm kettle, given that I don't want you…." His voice trailed off. Instead of mentioning the possibility of her catching a cold, he stepped aside as she bolted up the ladder in a record pace. She looked very impatient and so he just waved her to the kettle. Despite being over forty years her senior, Tarka was still the smaller mammal so he left it to Judy to shower herself. The fuming water ran down her, the trickles pooling on hanging furs and the green burrs that covered her like buboes. Her shivering slowly began subsiding and, as she turned back to Tarka, she almost had a smile on her muzzle.
Almost…
"So?" she'd asked. "Now what?"
"That bath, I guess?" Tarka replied, before leading her back along the top of the dyke to his house. His tin bath, placed in the washroom next to the fire and the copper, was already half full of cold water. Together, he and Judy took turns filling buckets with the scalding water and pouring it into the bath. Every now and again Judy would dip her finger in to test the water, until eventually she decided that it was good. At that Tarka had left her in there with some towels and some cotton sheets. He reckoned that, as her clothes were ruined, she'd have to go 'roman' as he called it and wear the sheet instead.
It was as he waited outside that the odd appearance of the two earlier in the day came back to him. A slight whisper of concern scurried about in his mind, so he gently knocked three times on the door and spoke.
"So, Miss Hopps…" he began.
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"What takes you out this way, and with a Fox too?" he said, louder this time.
Back on the other side of the door Judy, who was industriously plucking burr after burr out with some tweezers, thought back and spoke. "He's an evacuee."
"From the city? Which one?"
"Zootopia."
"Figures," Tarka replied. "I'd got one of those letters saying that I might have to take one, only from much closer to home."
"Where from?" Judy asked.
"I guess it would be Ewecester," the otter replied. "Or Briestol, though I hear they're sending most of the mice there a good way north. Up near Peltenham and the like."
"I'm guessing that they want them to be with other rodent families."
"I guess. So, this Zootopia Fox... What does he go by then miss Hopps?"
"Nick," Judy replied. "And I go by Judy."
"Very well Judy. So, how did you and Nick get into that situation."
The inside of Judy's ears turned a shade or two pinker as she was reminded of the morning's embarrassment. Not so much the fact that she'd ended up coated in mud, but the fact that she'd lost and ended up coated in mud by her own clumsiness, drove her mad.
"Judy…"
"I-was-running-after-him-and-slipped..."
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"Guess that makes sense." he muttered, low enough for Judy to not hear him through the door and past the cracking of the fire. She didn't mind. Instead she pinched her nose and went under, letting the warmness bury her alive.
Tarka meanwhile went about with his own affairs. Business at this time of year was low, but there was a sense of something in the air. A static. An anticipation. He knew that in a few weeks the harvests would be coming in and the mill would be abuzz with activity as local families hauled their harvests in for grinding. He pitter-pattered across the cold stone flagstones of his house and stepped outside, taking a deep breath in and out. His house wasn't so much a large house, more an outhouse built by the red deer who once owned the mill in order to store equipment. The real mill house, all one storey facing the water and three at the base of the dyke, was in a sorry state of affairs. The mill itself and the equipment on the lowest floor was in working order. Above that though the floors were empty, used for storing crops that had been brought it or just lying empty, with scattered and rusting tools that were just waiting to turn into dust with the years. The proud sandstone blocks were looking a little rough around the edges and bulged out here and there as the roof spread, one or two and the corners having cleanly faulted through. Some large ropes in the loft space now kept the roof together, and at least the roof kept the water out. The tiles though had been chipped and replaced in a hundred-and-one different places, always needed a few little repairs every year. The least you could say about it was that it was luckier than the windows. Tarka remembered boarding them up with his father after they moved into the mill, back when he was a little pup.
Wandering back along the dyke, he came to the sluice which was placed by the side of the old mill. Checking that it was closed, he undid his clothes until he was as far from decent as one could publicly get. He looked down and jumped. The cool water enveloped him and he opened his eyes, taking the state of the metal sluice in. It was clogged with twigs, rotting leaves and large amounts of mud. Swimming up to it, he dug with his paws to free the mass, watching it as it fell into the murkiness below. A little irritation in his chest, he kicked his legs and broke the surface, releasing a deep breath and taking a new one, preparing to go back down. Before he did so, he looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the sight. The Fox (who's name he had completely forgotten) was chest deep in the water in his waders. Over one shoulder he held an open umbrella, shading his head from view. Tarka shook his head and dove back down below, ready to carry on his work.
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Earlier that day.
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Nick wasn't sure if he liked the Otter or not. He seemed quiet, and strangely suspicious. He always got annoyed by people who did that to him, particularly given that he often had the feeling that it was all due to him being a fox and not much else. However, his father always had a motto for those occasions. 'They think us foxes are sneaky and untrustworthy. Well like many things there is a little seed of truth in that. We're cunning. And cunning can be used for good or bad and it can make winners and losers. You should always try and use it for good. You should always use it to make winners. But, if someone treats you like you're sneaky and untrustworthy, give 'em a double-dose of cunning with some embarrassment to boot!'
Nick looked over at the otter and smiled, deciding to be as friendly and helpful as possible. He'd prove that he wasn't any of those things, and if they decided to be mean he'd just use lots of kindness to make them look double mean. "Hi, my friend and I were coming here to fish and she slipped. Could you help us please?"
The Otter looked over at Judy and nodded. "I can," he replied. "I was planning on having a bath today, she can have it. As for you, well I suppose you can fish by yourself until she's all cleaned up."
"That's great!" Nick said, smiling. "Do you want to walk, Judy? Or I could carry you?"
Judy, who was wiping some of the mud away from her eyes, turned to glare at him. "I have legs, I can walk!"
Tarka huffed slightly, his tail swishing behind him a few times, before he turned to his left and pointed. "The mill's this way. Follow me." At that, he waded out a bit before leaning forwards, twisting his body left and right as he quickly swam ahead. Nick followed, wading through the water and seeming to splash up as much of it as he could. Judy, at the rear, trudged along the banks. As she stepped forwards, her feet digging down into the cold wet mud with queasy squelches, her chin or ear would flicker slightly before returning to normal. But, apart from that and her incessantly twitching nose, she carried on with a face more befitting that of a hardened soldier than an eight-year-old girl.
Not paying much mind to her, Nick looked around at the surroundings and smiled. The mill pond water did have a similar colour and smell to the boat pond back in the city. However, it seemed more greener, more alive. Along the banks and sides paper like water lily's sprouted out and opened themselves up to the sky. There was the soft humming of insects, as damselflies and dragonflies danced in the air, while birds sung in a hundred different tunes. It was something so different to what Nick had known all his life, and he was loving every second of it. As far as he could care, he could wander and explore this like a scout (or, even better, with some fellow scouts) for months or weeks at a time! He raised his head up, looking over the trees that lined the other side of the pond and at the chiselled hills that rose up beyond. The trees ended and were replaced with patches of greens and browns, crisscrossed with stone walls or topped with strange stacks of rock. He knew he'd have to ask about exploring up there soon, but for now he was content to help Judy carry on over to the mill. While Tarka swam on, cutting across the still pond like a pair of shears through a cotton sheet, he and Judy and came across a problem. A small spur of the pond shot off to their right, cutting off their path. For Nick it was fine, given that he could wade out and over thank to his clothing. Judy, however, was sticking to the banks. Nick couldn't help but spot the bushes of bullrush and bramble that she'd have to go through.
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"What?" she asked, as she caught up to an expecting Nick. He just looked at her, his eyes smugly half lidded while his tail, were it not stored safely in his waders, would be lazily wagging around, ending each and every one of its turns with a quick and sassy flick.
"M'lady…" he replied, bowing down as he waved over at the water they'd have to wade through.
Judy chewed her bottom lip with her buck teeth, grimacing at the thought of what would need to be done. She certainly didn't like it (or more specifically, who would be doing it), that was for sure! "Don't do anything embarrassing," she warned.
Nick shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face as he continued his charming knight act. "M'lady, I…"
"DO… NOT… CALL…" Judy interrupted, seething out the words, only to be cut off herself.
"...Me that?" Nick interrupted. "How about carrots, instead?"
"You know what I'll do if you don't stop!" she warned, holding her finger up to emphasise the point but only causing Nick to giggle.
"Not get me to carry you across? Get even wetter instead?"
Judy looked at him and sighed. "Fine, just because there is absolutely, positively, NO WAY that I'm going back in that stupid water today… you can carry me. But if you dunk me I'll turn your tail into a scarf!"
"Thank you," Nick replied, as he stepped forward. One arm under her knees, one cradling the small of her back, he lifted her up and carried her across the water. "Though…. Surely you should be the one saying thank-you?"
Judy rolled her eyes, before replying. "Maybe when I'm safely over."
"Like now?" Nick asked, as they reached the other side. "Mind the Gap!" he announced, as he let Judy down, "between the fox and the platform!"
Judy looked at him in a strange way, like one does when you're pretty sure that you didn't get a funny joke, before walking off in front. Nick followed this time, looking to his side on occasions to see if he could see any fish in the water. Some way out, he saw dark shapes moving under the surface and he smiled. "I'm going to catch you fish!" he teased, and he meant it.
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It didn't take long for him and Judy to get over to Tarka's mill house. Nick at first thought they would be going to the large, slightly shabby, building that loomed over the weir. Instead, they went into a smaller cottage like structure that was slightly off to the right. It was made of simple bricks up until the height of one of the floors in his parents' house. Above that, it had a top storey made of thick timber coated a greasy brown with creosote. Mostly, however, it was covered in Ivy and creepers, making it look green with white polka dots more than any other colour. Tarka led Judy through his front door, which was the bottom half of a larger stable door that a Horse or Deer could fit through. Inside, it looked like the pictures of cottages inside Nick's old picture books. It was a bit gloomy, not that Nick minded one bit, while the walls were covered in all sorts of bits and pieces, from tools to horseshoes and from garlands of herbs and garlic to embroidery and paintings. Tarka looked over at Judy and shook his head. "We'll have to get you cleaned up even before we get you in the bath. Go through that door there and get undressed.
"Yes," Judy replied. "Thankyou."
As she left, the otter turned to Nick and looked at him. His foot tapping against the ground a little bit, he shifted his cheeks left and right while he pondered. "You here to fish boy?"
"Yes," Nick replied. "Judy's mother said we should go fishing today, to get food for me, and we came here."
"Fair 'nuff," Tarka replied. "But what's with all that stuff on your back?"
Nick smiled proudly as he pulled out a little booklet from his bag. "I'm gonna be a scout soon!" he proudly announced. "And my scouting book says that there are many different ways of catching fish, all better than a line and pole. You can trap catfish in special traps, or use nets or spears like a heron!"
"Really?" Tarka asked. "Where's the fun in all that? I do things the old fashioned way, swimming around with net for the little 'uns and a spear for any pikes!"
"Well you're an otter sir," Nick pointed out. "You're really good at swimming."
"'I s'pose…" he muttered back, before shaking his head. "Anyhow, as long as this wretched war and the rationing is on, go ahead. Just bring all this fish to me so I can get gut 'em and get the roe! I'm not letting you take that, it's wasted on you!"
"Thankyou sir!" Nick replied, before his paw shot up in a scouts salute and he jogged off, eager to get to work.
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It didn't take long for Nick to dig out a chunk of mud and set the catfish trap. Resting his scout book on a lily pad and checking it as he went, he sliced a hole in the paintcan with a penknife and slotted in a drainage pipe. The pond water trickled over the brim and filled the can up, while Nick put half his bait in there and swilled it about. "Sly fox," he said, "dumb fish." Next off, he grabbed his small net and tried hunting near some reed beds. He waited by the lily pads and the rushes, gently holding the net in the water and dragging it about. Herding the fishes towards an inlet, het let out a shot of speed and dragged the net up. Streams of small fish swam out to the side, but Nick's eyes lit up with glee as he saw a small one still caught in his net. "YES!" he cried. "FISH NUMBER ONE!" Opening up a large bag, he dropped the little fish in and look it proudly. It flopped about and gasped, its orange fins sticking out and trying to push the non-existent water around it. With its light green skin and darker green stripes, Nick was pretty certain that it was a perch, though whether it was a giant one or a little baby he had no idea. All he knew was that it was about the right size to make a good dinner alongside a load of potatoes and peas.
The hunt carried on, Nick's bag soon filling up with half a dozen similar sized fish and threescore more little ones that could be made into soup. Nick, however, wanted to try and get something bigger. Getting bored with this type of fishing, he decided that it was time to pack it in when he heard a weird splash in the distance. Shrugging it off, he placed his bag safely on the bank and waded out into the pond. Opening up his umbrella, he let the area around him become darker and, as his eyes adjusted, he made out shapes moving between the mud he'd kicked up, along with some of the weeds that grew off the muck on the ponds floor. Dropping in a little bit of his bait and with his net in the water, he waited, and waited…
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And waited…
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And waited…
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The mud had settled around him, and he saw many small fish gently cruising around him. However, he was waiting for something bigger.
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He waited…
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And waited…
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Until it came. It was big. A brown fish, at least as long as Nick was tall. At first Nick gulped, but he steeled his nerves as the large fish came closer. Gently moving his net closer to his body, though it was woefully undersized to be any use in the traditional sense, he slowly closed the distance between him and it. With his umbrella attached to him via some straps, he was able to ready both paws for the catch. Twisting his head and taking the net in his mouth, the tips of his claws soon hovered a hair's breadth from the water's surface.
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He pounced, lunging his paws down and grabbing the fish in them. He felt his claws pierced its skin and he doubled over, trying to lock it in place, only to feel the shock of the creature fighting back. "NO YOU DON'T," Nick shouted, spitting out his net and getting ready to use his mouth as well. The fish was very heavy, almost too much to lift out the water, and it was swimming with enough force to send the water behind him splashing out in a great spray. A large pull, and Nick fought back, trying to haul him close enough to deliver a killing blow to his head. He dove down, teeth bared out, only for his grip to loosen slightly. The fish gave one last great thrust and, as Nick pounced down, his face and jaws only met cold water.
Lifting his head back up, Nick blinked as water streamed down over his eyes, before rapidly shaking his head. The cold water removed, he grumbled and looked at where the fish had sailed off too, before his ears rose at the sound of something else.
Clapping.
"What…?" he almost whispered, as he turned his head and saw both Tarka and Judy, the former doing the clapping and the latter in some kind of white dress, watching him.
"Come over," the Otter called, and Nick shrugged in response. Why not? He'd got a good catch already in his bag, something he picked up on his way over, and he wanted to check how Judy was doing.
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AN: Coppers were large tubs of metal (the best made from copper, but galvanised steel was also used) in which clothes washing was done before the advent of washing machines (cotton and linen being boiled to keep it clean). In situations like this one it also made sense as a water boiler for baths.
Nick here is seen setting up a catfish trap. Fish can swim in, but not out. The technique with the umbrella is based off of one used by certain species of crane, shading an area of water to lure the fish in.
While the famous 'Mind the gap' recording didn't appear on the London underground until the 1960's, Nick would have likely picked it up from a station attendant or train guard.
