Section A1
200 hens
Ground firm
Leaves moderate
Found 7 pale larvae / uncertain ID
Feed 31 lb
Eggs 91
Labor 1 hr 45 min
Then he added weather.
Then soil condition.
Then photos taken from the same marked positions.
Then counts under sample squares where he lifted equal amounts of leaf litter in chicken and control sections.
Toby did not have laboratory equipment.
He had a notebook, jars, a kitchen scale his mother reluctantly surrendered, a cheap thermometer, his phone camera, and patience.
The first obvious difference appeared after nine days.
The chicken section looked messier.
That disappointed him.
Leaves scattered.
Bare patches.
Manure visible.
Not the clean orchard-floor transformation he had imagined.
But when he sampled beneath remaining debris, he found fewer larvae in some of the areas where chickens had worked heavily.
Not zero.
Fewer.
Toby recorded it.
Then he noticed another effect.
The birds were breaking apart fallen apples that had survived winter under leaves.
Some fruit contained larvae.
The chickens consumed parts of them.
Others were simply shredded and exposed to drying.
Potentially useful.
Possibly meaningless.
He wrote it down without deciding.
The first disaster came on April 14.
Toby arrived before sunrise and immediately knew something was wrong.
Feathers.
White and brown.
Near the north fence.
The electric netting was down in one section.
He ran.
Five hens were dead.
Three missing.
Tracks crossed mud near the fence.
Coyote.
Maybe fox.
Daniel arrived minutes later.
Toby stood holding one bird.
He looked fifteen again.
Not like a young researcher.
Just a boy who had failed to protect animals he bought.
Daniel crouched near the tracks.
“Looks like coyote.”
Toby nodded.
“I didn’t secure the corner.”
“Maybe.”
“I should’ve checked.”
“You did.”
“Not enough.”
Daniel looked at him.
“This is part of it.”
Toby swallowed.
“Eight birds.”
“Yes.”
“Eight dollars.”
“More than that.”
“Feed.”
“Time.”
Toby nodded.
Then opened the notebook.
Daniel watched him write the loss down.
Not hide it.
Not minimize it.
That mattered.
They improved the fence.
Added a stronger perimeter wire.
Borrowed two trail cameras from a neighbor.
Moved shelters closer to the house side of the block.
Losses slowed.
Then rain came.
Three days.
Heavy.
The orchard floor softened.
Toby tried moving one shelter and buried a wheel halfway to the axle.
He pushed.
Nothing.
Pulled.
Nothing.
Swore.
Daniel appeared behind him.
“Language.”
Toby turned.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“I’m a farmer. We hear everything.”
The birds concentrated on a drier ridge between rows.
Their scratching became aggressive.
Within two days, Toby saw exposed roots from shallow vegetation and surface soil disturbed more than he wanted.
Harland had predicted it.
That irritated Toby.
Then he reminded himself that being irritated did not make Harland wrong.
He moved the birds early.
Changed rotation timing.
Created a rule in his notebook.
No poultry access within twenty-four hours of heavy rain on soft sections.
The experiment became less elegant every week.
That was probably why it became more useful.
By the end of week three, Toby sat with Daniel at the kitchen table.
Numbers between them.
Birds remaining: 188.
Feed cost: higher than Toby predicted.
Fence repair: $46.
Labor: ridiculous.
Egg sales: modest.