“Sure I’m sure,” the old squirrel warrior assured his patient. “The wing’s bound to hurt, ’tis stiff through bein’ idle. Ye’ll have to try usin’ it. Go on!”

Megraw launched himself from the rail. Flapping madly, he flew a short distance, then crashed into the river. Torrab and Song extended a long punting pole to him, and Megraw grabbed it in his beak, allowing himself to be pulled up onto the bank. He stood shaking water from his plumage. “Ach, ah kin fly, ah’m sure o’ et, but ye lot are mekkin’ me nervous, stannin’ there watchin’ me. Gang aboot yer bizness an’ leave me tae mahself!”

“Sure I’ve seen everythin’ now,” Burble muttered to one of the big hedgehogs. “An eagle who’s too shy to fly? Yiss yiss, that’s the blinkin’ limit!”

Dann threw a paw about the watervole’s shoulders. “Oh, let him be, Burb. Come on, Torrab an’ the gang are goin’ to show us how t’make hodgepodge pie.”

In the cabin the hedgehogs were tossing anything they could find into a cauldron, which sat squarely atop a potbellied stove. The four friends had never seen anything like it. Torrab and her gang went at the business of making hodgepodge pie with wild abandon, singing in gruff off-key voices. What they lacked in melodiousness they made up for in volume. Gawjo had heard it all before, and he clapped both paws over his ears to gain a little peace.

“Oh you take an ’odge, an’ I’ll take a podge,

If anybeast asks us why,

Jus’ tell him that some clever cooks,

Are makin’ ’odgepodge pie.

We start with an ’azelnut an’ a leek,

’Cos they’re wot we likes best,

An’ tho’ they don’t look much to speak,

Till we toss in the rest!

’Odgepodge ’odgepodge, good ole ’odgepodge,

That’s the pie for me,

I’ll scoff it ’ot at suppertime,

Or wolf it cold for tea.

Oh savage a cabbage, tear a turnip,

Rip ripe radishes too,

Chop up chestnuts, they’re the bestnuts,

Chuck in quite a few.

Dannyline ransom, mushrooms ’andsome,

Beetroots nice an’ red,

An’ watercress, that’s more or less,

With piecrust over’ead!

Oh ’odgepodge ’odgepodge, good ole ’odgepodge,

North west east or south,

You can shove it up yore nose, but I suppose,

’Tis better off in yore mouth!

Who loves an ’odgepodge . . . Hedge’ogs!”

Surprisingly enough, when it was served at midday, it looked good and tasted even better. Gawjo fought the hedgehogs off, rapping paws with his ladle and muttering darkly about manners. Then he dug through the thick golden piecrust and ladled out portions to them all, steaming hot and delicious.

Dippler scraped his platter clean and winked at Torrab. “Great stuff. I’ll ’ave to remember that recipe. Wot’s it called, podgepodge pie?”

“Yaakaaareeeeeegh!”