Daniel nodded.
The experiment had entered his thinking.
That mattered more to Toby than praise.
Three months after the first hens entered the orchard, Harland returned.
It was July now.
Warm.
Green.
Completely different from the cold April morning when he laughed against his truck door.
Mason Pike came with him again.
Daniel waited near the first row.
Toby wore the same canvas jacket despite the warmth because its pockets held his notebook, pencil, measuring tape, and folded sheets.
Harland stepped through the gate.
He looked around.
The first thing he noticed was that there were still chickens.
The second was that Toby had changed the setup considerably.
Stronger fence corners.
Better shelters.
Smaller rotational areas.
Visible rest periods.
Portable water positioned differently.
“You learned something,” Harland said.
Toby nodded.
“A few things.”
Harland walked toward the orchard.
“Show me.”
Toby did not begin with the best block.
He began with the worst.
“This section failed.”
Harland looked surprised.
“Failed?”
“Mostly.”
Toby pointed.
“Too wet.”
“Birds concentrated here.”
“Surface got damaged.”
“We pulled them out.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”
Harland crouched.
“Recovered?”
“Some.”
“Would you use chickens here again?”
“Not unless it’s dry.”
Harland nodded.
They moved.
Toby showed another area.
“Pest counts barely changed here.”
“What pest?”
Toby named what he believed the category to be, then added:
“I’m not completely sure on species.”
Harland looked at him.
“Good.”
Toby frowned.
“What?”
“Good answer.”
They kept walking.
At another row, Toby lifted leaf litter.
“We saw a meaningful reduction in the ground-stage larvae here compared with control.”
“How meaningful?”
Toby opened the notebook.
He had repeated counts.
Dates.
Locations.
Harland read.
Mason leaned closer.
“Control stayed higher?”
“Yes.”
“Every count?”
“No.”
“Most.”
“Any chance chickens just made them harder to find?”
“Yes.”
Toby answered immediately.
Harland smiled faintly.
“So how do you know they ate them?”
“I don’t know exactly how many they ate.”
“I know the counts went down in managed sections.”
“And I watched hens eat some.”
Harland handed back the notebook.
“Fair.”
They walked toward the control block.
The differences were visible but not theatrical.
More undisturbed litter.
More fallen material.
More of the targeted insects in several sample areas.
But also areas where treated and untreated rows looked nearly identical.
Harland examined everything.
After nearly an hour he asked:
“So where’s the miracle?”
Toby replied:
“There isn’t one.”
Harland looked at Daniel.
Daniel said nothing.
Toby pulled several folded sheets from his jacket.
“The chickens don’t replace your program.”
Harland raised an eyebrow.