The curiousness of the unicorn
could not be denied. She liked to
investigate and try new things. And, of
course, there was always oats to help things along. On the way home following the motorcycle and
sidecar fiasco I began to think, running over ideas involving a pinch of
mystery. I decided that what I basically
needed was a way to take advantage of this element of her nature without
damaging the forest, and without causing any doubt in her mind. But what exactly?
When I was a kid I loved Pob. He was an audacious and precocious little
chap with big, blown-out cheeks and a red and yellow hooped jumper. He would caused interference on your
television and took it over. And he used
to spit on the screen and write his name in it.
That's what I liked best; I thought that was fantastic. In that, sort of, Roald Dahl anti-grown-up
kind of a way. It was wonderful, the
sort of naughtiness I could only dream of.
Or watch on telly and read in books.
Anyway, he always had a special guest on the show - Spike Milligan, Roy Castle
and Dick King-Smith to name a few - who would follow a trail of red and yellow
wool that unravelled from his jumper to find clues, sometimes trick clues, to
an eventual goal - often a gift or item, I think. I felt it was better to avoid the tricks and
the clues (mainly because I couldn’t be bothered) but a trail of wool on its
own, I thought, could work very well.
The trail would start under a pile
of oats and eventually lead into the back of the van. Ultimately I was sure getting her closer to
the van, or away from the clearing was a good idea. After all, she hadn't faced me in any way on
the Sudoku run and the forest had saved her on the motorcycle jaunt, not that
I'd given her any real reason to try and escape, I suppose, before the pathway
fought back.
So I went to the clearing and
started the trail under a pile of oats to encourage her to the start (hopefully
making her think there would be more at the other end, which she would be
correct to assume) and I began to walk, unravelling the wool manually as I
went, my left hand orbiting the ball, leaving behind a trail. It was red wool, by the way, in case you were
wondering. I couldn't find wool that was
alternately red and yellow.
I kept off my normal route,
trailing the wool over bushes, and up and over branches - throwing the ball
over them and following where it fell before continuing onwards. Deviating mainly just to make it more fun and
to entertain myself, maybe even find a new spot or plants and animals.
Once back at the van (parked on the
grass verge at the edge of the forest, back to the forest, doors wide open), I
trailed the wool into the van and set up a big pile of oats, planting a sign in
the top. It was in the shape of a
downward pointing arrow and read, “Free Oats.”
And then I waited. And waited.
Mid-afternoon came and went. As
did the football commentaries and the results before I thought I saw a movement
among some bushes. It seemed to move
along the line of the wool but became erratic and moved away. It was getting nearer, though, before it
stopped altogether for a few minutes and went off in a completely different
direction and disappeared in the distance.
I waited for the unicorn until a
little bit before dusk when I trekked to the clearing to find the oats had
gone. I guessed she must have started
the trail but got bored at some point, possibly annoyingly close to the end,
and wandered off. Obviously I would need
something more appealing or attention demanding.
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