Tales From Watership Down (Watership Down 2)

Cows are my passion.

CHARLES DICKENS, Dombey and Son

"You're talking nonsense, Fiver," said Bigwig.

They were sitting in the Honeycomb, together with Vilthuril and Hyzenthlay, one wet, chilly afternoon of early summer. "Of course El-ahrairah must get old in time, like all of us; like every other rabbit. Otherwise he wouldn't be real."

"No, he doesn't," replied Fiver. "He always remains the same age."

"Have you ever met him or even seen him?"

"You know I haven't."

"Who were his father and mother?"

"We aren't told. But you know the story tells that in those first days Lord Frith made all the animals and birds, and that to begin with they were all friends; and El-ahrairah, it says, was among the animals in those days. So obviously he doesn't get older--or at least not in the same way that we do."

"And I'm sure that he does; he must."

They broke off the argument for the time being, but that evening, when several more rabbits were assembled in the Honeycomb, Bigwig resumed.

"If he doesn't get older, how can he be a real rabbit?"

"There's a story about that, if I'm not mistaken," replied Fiver. "I can't remember it at the moment. Isn't there a story, Dandelion?"

"You mean about El-ahrairah and the Three Cows?"

"The Three Cows?" said Bigwig. "What on earth have three cows got to do with it? That must be wrong."

"Well, I can tell you the story," said Dandelion, "as it was told to me--oh, a long time ago, before we came here. But I can't add anything to it or try to explain it. You'll just have to hear it--all of it--for yourselves, and that's the best I can do."

"Right you are!" said Bigwig. "Let's all hear it. Three cows, indeed!"

They say, you know (began Dandelion), that long ago El-ahrairah lived for a time on these very downs. He lived as we do, as merrily as could be, eating the grass and making occasional expeditions to the grounds of the big house at the bottom to steal flayrah. His happiness would have lasted forever if he had not begun to feel, little by little, a change in himself. He knew well enough what it meant. Gradually, he was growing old. He knew this mainly because his marvelous hearing was becoming less keen and there was a stiffness in one of his front paws.

One morning, as he was feeding in the dew outside his burrow, he saw a yellowhammer bobbing about among the thorn and juniper bushes nearby. At length he realized that this little bird was trying to talk to him: but it was timid and would not do more than flitter from the bushes and back. He waited patiently, and at last--or so it seemed to him--it sang clearly and into his understanding.

"El-ahrairah would not grow old

If his mind were strong and his heart were bold."

"Stop, little bird!" said El-ahrairah. "Tell me what you mean and tell me what to do."

But the little bird only sang again:

"El-ahrairah would not grow old

If his mind were strong and his heart were bold."

It flew away, and El-ahrairah was left upon the turf to think. He felt bold enough--or so it seemed to him--but where should he look and what was the task that demanded his boldness? Finally he set off to find out.

He asked birds and beetles, frogs and even the yellow-and-brown caterpillars on the ragwort, but none could tell him where he could seek the business of not growing old. At last, after wandering for many days, he met an old, gnarled hare squatting in its form in a patch of long grass. The old hare stared at him in silence, and it took El-ahrairah some little time to pluck up the courage to ask his question.

"Try the moon," said the old hare, hardly looking at El-ahrairah as he spoke.

Then El-ahrairah felt sure that that old hare knew more than he would say unless he pressed him hard; and he went close up to him and said, "I know you are bigger than I am and can run faster, but I am here to learn what you know, and I will press you with all the means in my power until you tell me. I am no foolish, inquisitive rabbit come to waste your time, but one engaged on this search up to the depths of my heart."

"Then I pity you," replied the old hare, "for you seem to have pledged yourself to seek for what cannot be found and to throw your life away in the search."