Season 1 · Episode 9
The Wind Has an Opinion
Published 7th September 2026
The system worked, until it did not.
The Afternoon Agenda
The afternoon began perfectly normally, which was how Lightwood Square preferred its trouble: late, unannounced and already somebody else’s fault.
Mr Jack Daw arrived at the Oak with three Jacks and a statement he had clearly prepared in advance.
“The matter before us,” he said, “is whether the garden has become too casual.”
The Jacks gave this serious consideration. Around them, cloud moved steadily above the greenhouse, and a lively breeze worried at the outer leaves without yet making a scene of itself.
“Define casual,” said one Jack.
“Nobody defines anything until there is a chairman,” said Mr Jack Daw.
“You are the chairman.”
“Precisely. The system works.”
For a while, it did. The Jacks occupied the Oak in a tidy black cluster, then a less tidy black cluster, then seven separate arguments connected by family resemblance. The Bird Table shook gently at the end of the path. The greenhouse caught the cloudy light. The Square carried on as it always had: with everyone nearby having an opinion about everyone else’s posture.
The Judges Arrive
Late in the afternoon, two Carrion Crows took the Pine. They sat with the bleak composure of judges who had arrived early and found the court still being built.
The Jacks looked up.
The crows looked down.
Nothing was said.
It was, from the crows’ point of view, a very successful conversation.
Batman Smith appeared from the Hedge as the light began to turn gold at the edges. Two of the Smith family came with him, and all three landed on the Fence Post in the sort of close formation that suggested they had either a plan or a concern.
“There is no concern,” Batman announced.
“Then why did you bring reinforcements?” asked Mr Jack Daw.
“They are family.”
“That is not an answer.”
Batman looked down the garden path. “Something has been unsettled lately.”
Gary was not there to leap upon this remark, and for once the Square had nobody willing to improve it. The crows remained silent. The Jacks became interested in a twig. The two Smiths on either side of Batman looked in opposite directions, which was not reassuring but was very Smith.
The Goldcrest Withdraws
The breeze freshened as evening approached. It pushed at the Pine and rattled the greenhouse panes, though the garden still held together. Then, at the far edge of the Fruit Tree, a goldcrest appeared.
It was so small that even the Oak seemed to lower its voice.
The tiny bird worked through the leaves with brisk, private determination, all bright movement and no interest whatsoever in committee business. Batman watched it for a moment.
“Are you all right?” he called.
The goldcrest did not answer. It had already gone, which Batman decided was either an excellent tactical withdrawal or the beginning of a more complicated problem.
At the edge of night, a crow crossed above the roofline and was gone. Mr Jack Daw gathered his Jacks.
“We will reconvene tomorrow,” he said.
“About what?” asked a Jack.
“We shall decide that tomorrow as well.”
Batman and his family settled into the Hedge. The Square drew itself close beneath low cloud. No one made any promises about the night, and nobody asked for one.
The Wind Has Its Voice
After midnight, the wind found its voice.
It came hard through the trees, pressing the Hedges flat, shaking the Pine and knocking impatiently at the summerhouse roof. It worried the Bird Table. It filled every gap between the leaves. Whatever conversations the garden kept after dark were carried away before they could become anybody’s business.
Morning Without a Chairman
By morning, the Square had the dishevelled look of somewhere that had spent the night being argued with by the sky.
Two Jacks arrived at the Oak and said nothing at all.
This was unprecedented.
They looked at the branches. They looked at the Bird Table. They looked at each other. The wind was still rushing through the higher leaves, too loud and insistent for a sensible opening remark.
At last, one Jack tried.
“The matter before—”
The wind took the rest.
His companion nodded gravely, as though this had been a complete and persuasive address.
Batman arrived alone at the Fence Post. His feathers were roughened, and he had the fixed expression of a man who had barely slept but was determined to make that somebody else’s administrative problem.
“Good morning,” he called.
The Jacks heard only “morning.”
“It is certainly that,” one replied.
Batman tried again, louder.
“Has anyone seen—”
The wind swept across the path.
“No,” said both Jacks, though neither knew what they had just denied.
A single Carrion Crow landed high in the Pine. It surveyed the battered garden, the two silent Jacks and Batman shouting into weather that would not listen.
The crow said nothing.
Batman, suddenly suspicious, narrowed his eyes. “What do you know?”
The crow continued to say nothing.
“Exactly,” Batman muttered.
Later, a third Jack appeared. Mr Jack Daw was nowhere to be seen, which meant that the two early arrivals were left with the responsibility of appearing organised. They failed nobly.
“We require a chairman,” said the first.
“We require a roof,” said the second.
The third Jack looked at the bending branches overhead. “We require a shorter agenda.”
Batman climbed down from the Fence Post, crossed the wet path, and stopped beneath the Bird Table. The wind was still making every ordinary sound into an announcement.
He looked back at the Oak.
“Nobody is to make this into a scandal,” he said.
The Jacks did not hear him.
The crow did.
That was worse.