We’ll Tell Our Children That We Tried, Of Course

Kirsty clambered out of the car, her clipboard dangling from one hand; then she remembered her boss's feedback and held it upright. Apparently, that suggested more authority. The farmer waited by the barn and she walked over, the ground clogged with straw and cowshit. Kirsty was glad that she'd decided against trainers.

"Mister Elliot?"

"Tha's right."

"And you've seen a crow, you say?"

They had to investigate any report. Kirsty had a series of questions, the answers to be recorded on the clipboard, along with her impressions. They'd trialled tablets for the surveyors but decided that old-style methods were better. Probably cheaper too. The rules also banned recording the conversation. Having a human take notes was thought to make potential witnesses more forthcoming.

Mister Elliot's sentences came slow, when he was ready. "Yup. In some trees in the next field. Think he might be nestin'."

Some notes on the clipboard, the first few boxes. Lots of people claimed they saw birds, but many of them just wanted attention. Sometimes, they did genuinely think they'd heard them. It seemed that seaside towns were haunted by the screeches of missing seagulls. A good proportion of the surveyors worked near the coast.

Mister Elliot took her through the farmyard until there was a view of three trees alongside each other, branches still bare. It was the perfect place for crows or rooks, and it looked like something was up there, although Kirsty knew most reports of nests were deformities in the tree. Everything was investigated.

"Give me a moment, sorry." Kirsty filled out the checkboxes, turned to the second page. This was the most likely sighting she'd seen in ages. They would likely bring out trail cameras, drones and a squad of ornithology students. If that was, indeed, a nest. Mister Elliot seemed very calm for someone who might become the most famous man in the world tomorrow.

"Where d'ya think they went?" asked Mister Elliot.

Obviously, she had as little idea as anyone. The training materials talked about how to spot traces of birds but spoke little about the migration, the day they left. Even flightless birds - chickens, emus, penguins - vanished at the same time as the other birds took to the wing. She remembered her training, the tours of empty poultry farms, deserted cages - the most haunted thing she'd ever seen. But Kirsty had no more idea than anyone else, and she told Mister Elliot as much.

"But here's the thing no-one spotted," he said. "There are more foxes than I've ever seen in my life. You can't trust a fox."

Kirsty took that down in detail. That was what the Ministry for Birds demanded. Any theory, any observation. Their goal was to find and track any remaining birds. The Ministry's website was careful not to say what everyone really wanted - for the birds to come back.

Background

Last week I read an essay claiming we had passed the 1.5-degree threshold for climate change.

The most horrifying thing about this for me is that we’ve done this, despite knowing there was a problem for almost 40-years.

Meta

This mailing list may drop down to fortnightly for a while, likely until December. I’ve got a busy time coming up - writing some Christmas stories, an anthology commission, a workshop, the Mycelium Parish News, and (hopefully) NaNoGenMo. There’s also another project I want to spend a little time with. It’s 2,836 words long at the moment, which is an epic for me, and I want to write it even longer.