“Maybe.”
Toby looked sick.
Daniel checked the fence.
“Could be raccoon.”
Toby followed tracks toward the tree line.
They found feathers.
That was enough.
Toby spent the afternoon reinforcing the perimeter.
Harland heard about it within two days.
Small towns moved information efficiently.
At the co-op, he told Mason Pike:
“First week and predators are already billing him.”
Mason asked:
“How many?”
“Eight.”
“You think Daniel shuts it down?”
“Should.”
Daniel did not.
He told Toby:
“Loss goes in the notebook.”
Toby wrote it down.
BIRD LOSS: 8.
POSSIBLE PREDATOR ENTRY.
REPAIR TIME: 4.5 HOURS.
MATERIAL COST.
He hated the line.
But recorded it anyway.
More losses followed.
Not every week.
Not all to predators.
A few birds escaped through fencing.
Several disappeared after another night breach.
One became sick.
A handful were lost during later incidents.
By the end of the three-month experiment, forty-three hens were gone.
That number became one of the most painful entries in Toby’s records.
It also became one of the most important.
Because without it, his final calculation would have been dishonest.
The weather caused the second major problem.
Late April turned wet.
Several days of rain soaked the orchard.
The ground beneath one chicken section became soft.
Hens concentrated on the driest areas.
Their scratching intensified there.
Within two days, Toby saw patches of bare soil disturbed far more than he wanted.
Harland had warned him.
Daniel noticed immediately.
“This is damage.”
“I know.”
“What are you doing?”
“Moving them.”
“Where?”
“Higher ground.”
“That’s outside the original rotation.”
“I’ll mark it.”
Daniel folded his arms.
“What if everywhere stays wet?”
“Then they stay out.”
“Meaning?”
“Shelter area.”
“More feed.”
Toby knew exactly what his father was implying.
Every time the chickens could not forage, the economics weakened.
He recorded that too.
The movable fences became nearly impossible to drag through mud.
One panel collapsed.
Seventy or eighty hens immediately scattered across two rows.
Toby spent almost an hour chasing birds.
Daniel watched from the tractor.
When the last hen went back behind fencing, he called:
“Saving labor?”
Toby knew sarcasm when he heard it.
“Not today.”
Daniel smiled faintly.
That night, Toby recorded one hour of unexpected labor.
Then added ten minutes because it took him that long to repair the panel.
By May, the novelty had worn off.
Now there was only work.
Toby woke before school at 5:15.
Checked water.
Counted hens.
Collected eggs.
Inspected fencing.
After school, he returned to the orchard.
Moved panels.
Recorded observations.
Refilled water.
Cleaned shelters.
Walked control rows.
Then did ordinary farm chores.
Some nights he ate dinner exhausted enough that Daniel told him to go to bed before finishing homework.
Toby refused.
The experiment would not save the orchard if it caused him to fail school.
His notebook became increasingly detailed.
He stopped writing statements like:
Lots of bugs gone.