The Working Theory

The Facts

At noon, rain ticked steadily on the greenhouse roof, and the Jacks had gathered in the Oak as though the weather had scheduled them there.

Mr Jack Daw looked down at the wet Vegetable Garden.

“I think,” he announced, “we should establish the facts.”

“Which facts?” asked another Jack.

Mr Jack Daw paused. This had not occurred to him.

Below them, Batman Smith conducted a firm inspection of the bird table. Three other Robins had arrived with their own opinions about its management, so he was forced to inspect them too. Derek worked quietly along the Oak trunk, head-first as usual.

Batman watched him for a moment.

“You know,” he said, “most birds use a tree in the other direction.”

“Most birds make a great deal of trouble,” said Derek, without looking up.

The rain thinned, but the Square did not become calmer. A travelling rush of Chiffchaffs swept through the hedge, all quick questions and no inclination to stay for answers. Batman attempted to identify Colin among them. Colin, if present, made no effort to help. One grey scout crossed beneath the hedge and vanished into the Vegetable Garden before the Jacks could decide whether it constituted a development.

It did.

A Proper Operation

By mid-afternoon, the garden had turned into a proper operation. Stirling’s squad appeared along the lawn and worked through the wet borders with a seriousness that made the fallen apples look classified. The Jacks crowded the lower Oak. Rooks took the higher branches and offered the kind of silent disapproval that suggested they had been invited to a much better investigation elsewhere.

Brenda emerged briefly from the hedge, took one look at the gathering, and went straight back in.

Gary arrived late enough for everyone to notice.

He landed on the Fruit Tree, regarded the squad, and then regarded the Jacks who were regarding the squad.

“You all look very busy,” he said.

“We are observing,” said Mr Jack Daw.

“Naturally.” Gary tilted his head. “And have you observed anything useful?”

Before Mr Jack Daw could reply, Stirling turned sharply at the edge of the Vegetable Garden. The squad altered course at once. Gary stopped smiling for precisely long enough to become interesting.

Then he smiled again.

“Well,” he said. “That is helpful.”

Batman looked over from the bird table. “Helpful to whom?”

Gary gave him a bright, patient look. “To the theory.”

“The theory which is still not a theory?”

“It is a working theory now.”

The Jacks were impressed despite themselves. A working theory sounded considerably more official than the ordinary sort.

Rain began again in fine, slanting lines. The squad continued through it, sometimes beneath the Oak, sometimes along the hedge, sometimes in places that made Gary decide the Fruit Tree was suddenly indispensable. Neither he nor Stirling said anything. This was, to the Jacks, the most suspicious possible amount of conversation.

Perhaps It Is Working

By early evening, the squirrels had gone beneath the hedge. Gary remained long enough to inspect the empty grass beneath the Fruit Tree, then took himself off towards the far gardens without explanation.

“Has he told anyone the working theory?” Batman asked.

“No,” said Mr Jack Daw.

“Then how does he know it works?”

Mr Jack Daw considered this with professional gravity.

“Perhaps it is working on him.”

The Night Interruption

At twilight, the Jacks settled their own affairs in the Oak while the Smiths occupied several damp perches and complained about the arrangements. As darkness closed over the garden, the conversation faded away. There was no sign of Nigel beneath the Fruit Tree, by the bird table, or in any of the places where a Woodpigeon might reasonably be expected to appear when either lunch or romance was available.

The night stayed quiet for a while.

Then an owl made its presence felt beyond the sleeping garden.

Batman woke on the Fence Post. Mr Jack Daw, who had not technically been asleep, sat up among the leaves. Somewhere out in the dark, the owl seemed to have an urgent matter with the night itself. The Square waited to hear who would take responsibility for it.

No one did.

The business resumed a little later, more insistently this time, and then fell away again. Batman glanced towards the Summerhouse.

“Marjorie?” he whispered.

Mr Jack Daw said nothing.

“Harold?” Batman tried.

Still nothing.

“Marlboro?”

“You are naming every owl you know,” said Mr Jack Daw.

“I am narrowing it down.”

The darkness declined to cooperate. By the time the last unresolved interruption had passed, rain was beginning to stipple the leaves again, and the Square had no answer at all.

Nearly There

Dawn came softly and damply. The Smiths began arriving before the Jacks had properly reorganised themselves. A Robin took the bird table. Another took the fence. Batman arrived with the expression of a bird who had been called into an emergency he had absolutely not caused.

“Positions,” he said.

“They are already in positions,” observed Mildred from beneath the hedge.

“Not coordinated positions.”

The morning gathered itself around the Oak. Jacks arrived in small, purposeful groups. The Dunnocks kept sensibly low. Derek passed down the trunk once more, apparently to make certain that gravity remained in order. Rooks arrived later and surveyed the entire garden from above, their presence lending the proceedings an unnecessary air of consequence.

As the clouds broke, Gary came back.

He did not go to the Fruit Tree. He did not greet the Jacks. Instead, he chose a branch that gave him a clear view of the Oak roots, the hedge, and the Vegetable Garden.

Stirling’s squad appeared almost at once.

The garden went still in the particular way it did whenever those two events occurred together. Stirling sent the squad along the hedge line. Gary moved one branch farther along the Oak. The squad turned beneath the bird table. Gary inspected a raindrop on his wing with great concentration.

Batman leaned towards Mr Jack Daw.

“Is this part of the working theory?”

“Everything is part of the working theory,” said Mr Jack Daw. “That is why it is so hard to follow.”

One squirrel paused beneath the Oak and looked up. Gary looked down. Neither made a sound. A second later, the squad moved under the hedge and out of sight.

Gary waited.

Then he looked across the Square, not towards the Fruit Tree this time but beyond it, towards the gardens nobody could see.

“Nearly there,” he murmured.

“Nearly where?” Batman called.

Gary was already leaving.

Later, with the squad gone and Gary elsewhere again, the Jacks remained in the Oak. The rain returned in a brief, bright shower. Mr Jack Daw watched the water darken the path.

“We have established,” he said, “that there is a working theory.”

“And?” asked a Jack.

Mr Jack Daw looked towards the empty Fruit Tree.

“We have not established that it is working.”

DUFF. DUFF. DUFF-DUFF-DUFF.

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