“You did.”
“Bird looked stupid.”
“That counts.”
“It does not.”
At eight, the neighboring growers came down from the road.
Calvin entered first.
“What’s the verdict?”
Hannah straightened.
“Too early.”
Calvin looked disappointed.
“You’re supposed to tell us they saved the world.”
“No.”
Tom Riley crouched near a vine.
“You seeing fewer?”
“Yes.”
“By how much?”
“Marked rows are down about sixty percent visible count from last night.”
Calvin whistled.
“Seriously?”
“Visible count.”
Hannah emphasized the words.
“Not total population.”
Tom nodded.
“Could be weather.”
“Yes.”
Calvin looked at her.
“You trying to talk us out of believing your own idea?”
“I’m trying to tell you what I actually know.”
Jack glanced at her.
Again, Walter Miller.
Tom watched the ducks.
“Any vine damage?”
“Nothing obvious.”
“Manure?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
Hannah pointed toward her notebook.
“Tracking distribution.”
Calvin laughed.
“Of course you are.”
Hannah looked at him.
“You’re the one who drove here at seven in the morning to watch ducks.”
Tom covered a grin.
Calvin pointed.
“Fair.”
For the next hour, the jokes faded.
Not because everyone became convinced.
Because the ducks kept working.
They moved steadily through the row bottoms.
Bills searched wet grass.
Snails disappeared.
Slugs too.
Small insects.
The flock remained surprisingly calm as long as Hannah guided its boundaries.
A few ducks wandered.
Forklift escaped twice.
Hannah retrieved it with feed.
At 9:12, Brian Keller from the farm supply store arrived.
Hannah stared at him.
“Seriously?”
He held up both hands.
“I heard there was a show.”
“You have a store.”
“Slow morning.”
“You sold out of half the snail control products.”
“Exactly. Nothing left to sell.”
Jack laughed.
Brian approached the rail.
“How’s it going?”
Hannah said, “Ask me tonight.”
Brian looked at the ducks.
“You know, I was joking before.”
“I know.”
“Didn’t mean anything.”
“I know.”
She did not make him suffer.
She also did not rescue him from embarrassment.
That balance felt good.
By ten, Hannah had moved the flock through six rows.
She returned them to a sheltered paddock for water and rest.
Jack looked almost offended.
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
“They could keep going.”
“They need water.”
“There’s water in puddles.”
“That’s not clean drinking water.”
“They’re ducks.”
Hannah stared.
Jack sighed.
“Fine.”
“They also need rest.”
“Bird union?”
“Exactly.”
Calvin checked his watch.
“You’re putting them back out?”
“After noon if conditions stay safe.”
Tom looked toward the sky.
Storm clouds thickened over the west hills.
Weather models predicted heavier rain by afternoon.
Potential wind gusts.
Hannah did not want ducks caught across an open block during intense wind.
She had designed an early cutoff.
Jack understood when she explained.
“You’re stopping at three?”
“Two-thirty if wind starts earlier.”
“So they won’t finish the lower block.”
“Not today.”
Jack frowned.
“We have snails in the lower block.”
“Yes.”
“What do we do?”
Hannah looked at him.
“Tomorrow.”
Jack almost objected.
Then stopped.
He had spent four months telling her ducks could not solve the problem.