Barnaby Rabbit Stories Read online

Barnaby Rabbit Stories for Young Children

  by

  Peter Allchin

  Copyright 2013 Peter Allchin

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  Also by Peter Allchin

  Table of Contents:

  Barnaby Rabbit Saves the Day.

  Barnaby Rabbit and the Big Bad Badger

  Barnaby Rabbit and the Pesky Fox

  Barnaby Rabbit Meets Father Christmas

  Barnaby Rabbit Plays Hide and Seek

  Barnaby Rabbit and the Digging Machine

  Barnaby Rabbit Saves The Day.

  Barnaby Rabbit was hot, very hot. It was the middle of a beautiful summer in Orange Blossom Wood. High above the trees and bushes, the sun shone in a blue cloudless sky, and even the leaves on the trees failed to stop the heat of the sun from penetrating through to the woodland floor where Barnaby Rabbit lived.

  The birds, too hot to sing or fly, remained perched on the branches of the trees. No animals, large or small, scurried through the grasses and fallen branches, looking for food and it was certainly far too warm for the youngsters to play. Only the bees seemed to be going about their daily chores collecting nectar from the wild flowers. Their humming was a reminder to Barnaby Rabbit that life carried on in Orange Blossom Wood.

  As Barnaby was lazing in his mother’s armchair, daydreaming of cooler days and playing with his friends, there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it mum," he said, glad for something to do.

  It was Mrs Hedgehog. "Hello Barnaby," said Mrs Hedgehog. "Is Harry with you?"

  "No," replied Barnaby. "I haven't seen Harry all morning."

  "Oh dear," said Mrs Hedgehog. "I've been to see all his other friends and no-one knows where he is. You were my last hope. Now I don't know what to do."

  Barnaby Rabbit smiled at Mrs Hedgehog. "Don't worry Mrs Hedgehog," he said. "I'll find him for you. Harry has probably curled up in a hollow log somewhere to keep cool."

  After saying goodbye to Mrs Hedgehog, Barnaby Rabbit called an emergency meeting with his best pals, Peter Partridge and Philipa Pheasant, and soon they were all looking for Harry Hedgehog. First, they looked in all the hollow logs; no Harry Hedgehog. Then they searched under the thickest bushes; still no Harry Hedgehog.

  "I don't know what we're going to do now," said Philipa Pheasant. "Harry has never got lost before."

  Barnaby Rabbit suggested to Philipa Pheasant that she flew over Orange Blossom Wood to see if she could spot Harry Hedgehog from the air. Philipa flapped her wings, but it was no good; she was too hot and exhausted.

  "I wish I were a duck so that I could fly over the wood," said Peter Partridge.

  "That's it!" said Barnaby Rabbit. "The duck pond! I wonder if Harry went to there to cool down?"

  "But Harry can't swim," said Philipa Pheasant.

  "Then we had better hurry," Barnaby Rabbit said, and headed off in the direction of the duck pond, followed closely by his two friends.

  "Help! Help!" It was the voice of Harry Hedgehog. "Help! Help!"

  The three friends arrived at the duck pond and saw Harry in the water, being held afloat by Mr and Mrs Duck. "We can't hold him much longer," said Mr Duck. "And we are unable to push him to the bank; he's too heavy. If we let go, Harry will sink!"

  Barnaby Rabbit thought very quickly and soon came up with a plan. "We must find a long stick or branch that we can all carry," he said.

  "Hurry, oh please hurry!" spluttered Harry Hedgehog as his friends searched around the duck pond.

  "Over here!" called Philipa, and soon, Barnaby Rabbit, Peter Partridge and Philipa Pheasant were dragging a long branch towards the edge of the duck pond. They lowered it onto the water and pushed it towards Harry Hedgehog, being careful not to let the branch out of their grip.

  "Grab the end of the branch Harry and we'll pull you out," said Barnaby, and Harry Hedgehog grabbed the branch.

  With the help of Mr and Mrs Duck, who pushed, and Barnaby, Peter and Philipa, who pulled, Harry Hedgehog was soon on dry land. The four friends thanked Mr and Mrs Duck, before making their way home.

  "What on earth were you thinking of Harry? You could have drowned!" said Mrs Hedgehog, annoyed that her only son could be so foolish.

  "I'm sorry mum," answered Harry, still dripping wet despite the heat. "The water looked so cool and inviting, so I just ran and jumped in. I didn't know the duck pond was so deep!"

  "It's a good job Barnaby and his friends turned up when they did," said Mrs Hedgehog.

  "Never, ever, go in water that you don't know the depth of, and always be with friends, especially when near water, in case something does goes wrong."

  The lesson was learned. Harry Hedgehog thanked Barnaby Rabbit, Peter Partridge and Philipa Pheasant and never went near water, without his friends, again.

  The End

  Barnaby Rabbit and the Bid Bad Badger

  It was a warm sunny day in Orange Blossom Wood and two of Barnaby Rabbit’s best friends, Peter Partridge and Philipa Pheasant had called to see if Barnaby could go with them into the wood to play.

  “Don’t go too far,” said Mrs Rabbit, “There’s a Big Bad Badger out there and I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”

  “We won’t,” they replied, and off they went.

  “I wonder what a Big Bad Badger looks like,” said Philipa Pheasant.

  “I dunno,” answered Peter Partridge. “Just like any other badger I suppose.”

  “Only bigger and badder, I guess,” added Barnaby, then continued, “I wonder what we’ll do if we if we see him? I suppose I could dive into a small burrow and hide.”

  “And I could fly away,” said Philipa Pheasant.

  “And I suppose I’ll get eaten by the Big Bad Badger,” said Peter Partridge, “because I’m not as quick as you two.”

  Barnaby went up to his friend and put his arm around him. “You’ll be ok. Peter, I don’t think we will see the Big Bad Badger at all. I bet my mum is just trying to scare us, just so we don’t wander off too far.”

  During their conversation they had walked far into the woods without realising just how far they had gone, and were totally unaware that they were being followed.

  “It’s getting awfully dark,” Philipa Pheasant remarked, noticing that the path had become quite narrow and the trees and bushes were getting very dense.

  “Did you hear that?” whispered Peter Partridge.

  They all stopped and listened.

  “Hear what exactly?” said Philipa, a little nervously.

  Peter turned and looked in every direction. “That noise,” he replied. “Like a Big Bad Badger.”

  “Don’t be silly Peter,” said Barnaby Rabbit. “The wood is always full of noises, and anyway, how do you know what a Big Bad Badger sounds like?”

  Before Peter Partridge could answer, a big bellowing voice boomed out, “BOO!”

  Philipa Pheasant flapped her wings and tried to fly, but the trees and bushes were too close and she couldn’t get off the ground.

  Barnaby Rabbit saw a hole in the ground and dived for cover, but a large tree root had almost filled the hole.

  Peter Partridge just stood where he was, eyes closed. “Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me,” he muttered

  Something tapped him on the shoulder. “Who’s going to eat you?” asked the voice.

  “Y, y, you are,” answered Peter, opening one eye then quickly shutting it tight. “Y, y, you’re the Big Bad Badger.”

  "Why,” sa
id the voice, “I’ve never eaten anyone in my life. I may be big, but as for being bad, well…a little naughty perhaps. I do go through the woods making people jump by shouting out ‘BOO!’ but that’s all.”

  The three friends gathered in front of the Big Bad Badger. “Why don’t you play normal games like other woodland folk?” asked Barnaby Rabbit.

  “It’s my size,” replied the Badger; “Nobody wants to play games with someone as big as me, so I just wander around the woods making people jump. It passes the time of day I suppose, although it isn’t really fun.”

  The three chums looked at each other and smiled. “If you stop frightening people, then we will be your friends and play games with you,” said Barnaby Rabbit. “Do you know how to play football and hunt the acorn?”

  The Big Bad Badger looked very thoughtful. “I don’t think I do,” he replied, “But I really would like to learn.”

  And so, the Big Bad Badger, Peter Partridge, Philipa Pheasant and Barnaby Rabbit played football and hunt the acorn, which of course, the Big Bad Badger, with his strong claws, always won.

  It was rumoured that the Big Bad Badger had left the woods and gone away, but each day, he and his friends would play games deep the heart of Orange Blossom Wood.

  The End

  Barnaby Rabbit and the Pesky Fox

  There was a loud ‘Rat a tat tat’ at Mrs Rabbit’s front door. It was Mr Hare, Orange Blossom Wood’s finest, and only, postman.

  “I’m very sorry Mrs Rabbit,” said Mr Hare. “There will not be any letters again today. The pesky fox took my post-bag, as I was about to put a letter through Mrs Titmouse’s letterbox.”

  “Well I’ll be blowed,” said Mrs Rabbit. “That’s the fifth time this week! Something really must be done about that pesky fox.”

  Word quickly spread through Orange Blossom Wood about how the pesky fox was taking the post-bags from Mr Hare the postman. Everybody was very annoyed. Barnaby Rabbit called a special meeting of all his friends, to take place at their secret hideout near Barnaby’s house.

  “Right!” said Barnaby. “We’ve got to stop this pesky fox. Has anyone got any ideas?”

  “We could go round to the pesky fox’s house and ask him, very nicely of course, to stop what he is doing,” replied Timothy Titmouse.

  “Or we could guard Mr Hare, the postman, as he delivers the letters,” added Willy Weasel.

  “Erm… I don’t think either idea would work,” remarked Barnaby Rabbit.

  “Firstly, the pesky fox is bigger and stronger than us, and I don’t think he would be happy if we all turned up on his doorstep. Secondly, who wants to get up as early as Mr Hare the postman and try to guard him all morning, every morning?”

  For a long while, nobody said a word.

  “I think I know what we should do,” said Peter Partridge. “If we follow Mr Hare the postman without being seen, we could all jump on the pesky fox when he takes the post-bag.”

  “Even better than that,” added Barnaby Rabbit. “As the pesky fox takes the post-bag from Mr Hare, Harry Hedgehog curls up into a ball then we roll him towards the pesky fox, knocking him over. That would give him such a fright.”

  “That’s a great idea,” they all said, and agreed to meet Mr Hare the postman, early the next day.

  The following morning, Barnaby Rabbit and his pals gathered outside the post office and told Mr Hare of the plan to stop the pesky fox. Mr Hare then set off to deliver the letters.

  It was now quite late in the morning, and nothing had happened. Barnaby Rabbit began to think that nothing would happen, when, keeping watch from a high bank as Mr Hare walked along a ditch near farmer Brown’s sheep field, he saw the pesky fox rush out from behind a bush and grab the post-bag.

  “Quick Harry, curl up into a ball,” whispered Barnaby. Then, as Harry curled into a ball, all his friends pushed him and rolled him down the slope towards the pesky fox.

  Faster and faster he rolled, until Harry Hedgehog finally landed on the pesky fox’s back!

  “Argh…That hurts,” shouted the pesky fox.

  “Serves you right!” said Barnaby Rabbit as he took the post-bag from the fox and gave it back to Mr Hare. “Why do you keep taking the post?” he asked.

  The dazed fox sat down and explained that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but he needed the post-bags for Mrs Fox to lay on before she gives birth to the new cubs. “I’m very sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused,” he said. “All the letters are safe, and I haven’t read any of them…Honest.”

  “There must be something better than post-bags for Mrs Fox and her cubs to lay on,” said Barnaby. Then he noticed all the lamb’s wool stuck to Harry Hedgehog’s spines. “That’s it. That’s what we need,” he exclaimed. “If we roll Harry along the fence by farmer Brown’s sheep field, all the loose wool will get caught on his spines.”

  The pesky fox hung his head in shame. “You’d help me, after all the trouble I’ve caused?” he said.

  “What you did was wrong,” answered Barnaby Rabbit. “You cannot take things which do not belong to you; that is stealing. But Mrs Fox needed help, so why should we not help you? ”

  All Barnaby Rabbit’s friends and Mr Hare the postman agreed. Soon, lots of soft lamb’s wool had been gathered and taken back to the pesky fox’s home. The post-bags, which had been stolen, were gathered up and the letters put back inside them. In their place was a warm woollen bed for Mrs Fox to lay on.

  The pesky fox insisted on delivering the letters himself, so he could say sorry to all the people he had upset.

  A few days later, Mrs Fox gave birth to the cubs. The pesky fox, now no longer pesky, was a very proud father, and never took any post-bags, nor anything else that didn’t belong to him, ever again.

  The End

  Barnaby Rabbit Meets Father Christmas.

  It was wintertime in Orange Blossom Wood and everywhere was under a blanket of fresh white snow. Deep underground in his warren was Barnaby Rabbit.

  “Cough! Cough!”

  “That’s a nasty cough my boy,” said his mother, and she went straight to the kitchen to fetch some medicine. “Open wide young man,” she said, pouring some of the mixture into a spoon.

  “Urgh, that’s horrible stuff,” cried Barnaby, screwing up his face in disgust. “I want to go and play in the snow.”

  “Wrap up well and put these cough sweets into your pocket and suck one if you need to,” said Mrs Rabbit, then dressed Barnaby in a warm scarf and hat and a nice thick woollen coat.

  Barnaby opened the front door. “Wow, look at all that snow! I’m going to get some friends and throw snowballs and build a great big snow rabbit. Bye mum!”

  “'Bye Barnaby, you be careful now,” answered his mother.

  “I will mum.”

  Off he went through the deep snow to meet his friends and together, they decided to go to the meadow at the edge of the wood. As they neared the meadow, they came across a little wood elf. Now, seeing a wood elf was an unusually rare sight, especially on Christmas Eve, and this was Christmas Eve.

  The wood elves, old, young, male and female always helped Father Christmas during the month of December, and no more important day was Christmas Eve. It was the busiest day in the Christmas calendar. All the wood elves would wrap the presents, being extra careful to put the correct name on each present. Then, when everything had been checked, and checked again, the presents would be loaded onto Father Christmas’s sleigh, ready to be delivered to all the boys and girls.

  As the friends approached the little elf, which was sitting, looking quite miserable, on a snow covered log, thoughts began to enter Barnaby’s head. ‘What if the elf was lost? What if today was the day after Christmas and we had all missed it. What if Christmas was cancelled!’ The thought of a cancelled Christmas was too much for Barnaby to bear. He rushed over to the wood elf. “Have they cancelled it?” he cried.

  “Cancelled what?” replied the elf in a most un-cheerful voice.

  “Cancelled Christmas,�
� said Barnaby. “Have they cancelled Christmas?”

  “It’s impossible to cancel Christmas,” said the wood elf. “Christmas is about the baby Jesus, and you can’t cancel that!”

  Barnaby thought for a moment, his long whiskers twitching wildly. “What’s happened then, why are you here and not helping Father Christmas?”

  The little wood elf turned his face towards the group of friends. “There won’t be any presents this year,” he said. “Father Christmas isn’t well enough to deliver them. I’ve been sent by Mrs Christmas to get a doctor, but I just don’t know where to find one.”

  “Maybe I can help,” said Barnaby. “My mum’s the best medicine maker in the whole of Orange Blossom Wood.”

  For the first time since their meeting, the little wood elf seemed to cheer up, but it didn’t last.

  “What if your mum’s medicine didn’t work quick enough. It is Christmas Eve you know.”

  “It will work, and anyway, what is there to lose?” said Barnaby.

  The elf soon made up his mind. He told Barnaby’s friends to go to Barnaby’s house and explain to Mrs Rabbit what was happening. As the friends left, the elf blindfolded Barnaby and led him to a secret chamber, deep inside a hollow tree. There, they climbed aboard a strange craft with lots of flashing lights, knobs, switches and levers, many of which, the elf pulled, flicked or turned. The strange craft began to rise, very slowly at first, then, suddenly, with a loud whoosh, it flew like a rocket out of the top of the hollow tree.

  By now, Barnaby had been allowed to remove his blindfold. ”Gosh, this is so exciting,” he cried as he looked out of the window and watched as Orange Blossom Wood got smaller and smaller until finally, it disappeared altogether.

  On they flew, mile after mile, high above the clouds until, in the distance, Barnaby saw a gigantic ice castle surrounded by myriad lights. Every colour imaginable shone in the sky.

  The elf landed the strange craft on a large icy courtyard, and toy soldiers immediately escorted the pair to the great hall, where Mrs Christmas was waiting.

  “Doesn’t look like a doctor to me?” said Mrs Christmas, eyeing Barnaby. “Looks more like a rabbit, if I’m not mistaken.”