Attempts to Capture and Tame a Unicorn: (25) The Little Train

The trail of wool hadn't worked.  Somewhere along the line, the unicorn had got bored and wandered off.  I needed a way to stop this happening - to entertain her too in some way, as well as intrigue, and to entice with the oats.

At great expense I bought two trains, trucks for the goods and A LOT of track - blue plastic track that clipped together easily - really great stuff, actually, not at all fiddly - pretty decent, I should think, for little hands.  The loco itself had to be battery operated and the only system of that sort I could find was a Thomas one which was a little embarrassing to buy in such quantity.  Mainly ‘cause I looked like a father who spoiled their child way too much.  Boy did I get a funny look.  I wanted to get Thomas, really, but he came with Annie and Clarabel, as you might expect.  Instead I went for Lady and Henry as they came with two trucks each.

At the crack of dawn I started to lay down all this track, starting at the van with a ramp leading up into it where the train would end its long run in a shed where there was a clever little bit of track that would stop it.  I half buried this shed in a pile of oats that would keep any unicorn busy for quite some time.

Then I ran the line into the forest, being careful to keep the track level all the way by cutting a way for it, building embankments and the like, digging out earth from underneath tree roots (being careful not to cut them) and threading track under and through them.  I did my best to use as little track as possible as I was scared of running out of it.  Occasionally, though, I was forced to go around roots or plants and, of course, follow the path. 

Several hours later and I arrived at the clearing, a little trickle of blue having been formed that worked its way right back to the edge of the forest.  I took what track was left (only a few pieces - curves and straights - and the appropriate parts for a bridge) in my rucksack and trekked back to the van for lunch and to retrieve the train complete with its precious cargo.

By the traditional time of the football kick-off I had the double header set up with four little trucks filled to the top and beyond with little mounds of oatastic oats.  I had switched the engines on but placed a twig in front of them to ensure they went nowhere for now.  To this was tied a piece of string which led to a bush that served as my hiding place and, ultimately, my hand, ready to be pulled and start off a chain of planned events.

It was at this most traditional and holy of times that the Unicorn appeared but seemed to take little notice of the little train which I thought was a bit odd.  It stood out like a trail of piss in snow, to be frank, and so it was a little vexing after all the bother I had gone to.  The expense wasn't so annoying because it was something I had wanted to do, and it had been fun to build.  But to not get a reaction!  I was perturbed to say the least.

Annoyed, I pulled at the string and set the Flying Oatsman on its journey.  The noise of the little motor brought the unicorn round immediately.  She moved on with a lolloping gallop across the clearing, eyes fixed on the moving piles of oats quicker than you could say, "Unicorn’s bum," her tail twitching with excitement.

She caught up with it damn fast and I thought I was done for as her head lowered toward the trucks.  But all she did was take the occasional lick at the oats as she followed to see where the train would take her. 

Her underbelly hovered over the track as she followed Henry and Lady onward, stepping easily over roots, jumping ahead and to the side to watch them journey over bridges, or to the end of tunnels to see them come out the other side with a welcoming lick at the first truckload of oats.

It was about three quarters of the way back to the van that disaster struck.  The motley pair went under a particularly thick clump of roots that had protruded across the whole path and never came out again.  The unicorn whimpered, peering in from either end and trying vainly to get her tongue through the roots to the sweetness below.  Defeated, she turned and went back home, giving me a disdainful snort as she went by, flicking me with her tail.

I don't know what went wrong.  Maybe I had the ruler at a wonky angle or had forgotten to take account of the track but the funnel had snagged and the train was going nowhere and was out of reach, is still there for all I know.  Oh, what an idiot be me - and I had that bloody spare bridge too.