This week, the animals were asked what they hate about summer. Florence the Frog opened the door to so many unheard voices that the others have had to take a back seat and wait to have their say.

They’re not impressed.

Rather than simply airing her own grievances, Florence organized a Tourist Awareness Nature Walk to give some of summer’s less-heard residents a chance to speak for themselves.

Tourist Awareness Nature Walk

Hello and welcome! This is a chance to gently explore the impact of summer tourist crowds on nature and its inhabitants and leave with an enhanced awareness of your collective footprint.

I should add, donations to the Forest Harmony Wellness Group are gratefully accepted.

Everyone loves nature, but sometimes our curiosity comes at a cost. Nature paths, forests and beaches are home to a huge variety of creatures, and while we all mean well when we visit, our interest can have downstream effects.

Some of those creatures have been kind enough to explain the magnitude of that impact, so let’s get walking.

First, increased summer traffic can have serious consequences for the creatures who live alongside our pathways. Rupert here is offering an example.

Rupert the Crow

I only have a moment, so I’ll be brief. Doris is waiting.

I love chips. Doris loves chips. And I spotted a whole one right on the pathway. I would have picked it up in a jiffy. She’s been expecting something nice for our anniversary dinner. It was perfect.

But as soon as I got down, this cyclist damn near flattened me. And of course the chip was totally squished.

Doris didn’t even get to open her new pack of anniversary candles!”

Next, Candace, our volunteer crab, explains how overcrowding can affect beach creatures and their self-esteem.

Candace the Crab

I was trying to find somewhere, you know, private to change. I just wanted a bit of privacy since I’ve outgrown this shell. I’ve always been a big girl.

Anyway, I couldn’t believe it. There were all these eyes on me and I’m sure they were, you know, commenting. It’s not fair because, you know, it’s all in what you’re wearing, the size, I mean. In a big shell, well, it hides everything.

And you can’t expect miracles, can you? And I won’t take that Ozempic stuff. Apparently it can have horrible effects on your shell.

Moving on, animals live here all year long and make all kinds of preparations that visitors aren’t even aware of. Roger is here to explain the tragedy of his nuts.

Roger the Squirrel

I stored those nuts for months! I’ve been meticulous. You’ve no idea how hard it is to hide nuts away from nosy creatures that are in your business all the time.

And then, just at the point I’d collected a whole season’s worth for the winter, along comes some bone-headed, fat-bottomed tourist that sits down and squishes the lot. I’m sure he didn’t even feel them through all that podge, and some of them were quite pointed!

Anyway, they’re totally ruined and I’ve had to spend all me time gathering up the pieces. I was hoping to have five nut pies for my harvest dinner. Now I’m not sure I’ll get enough for two.

“Claire’s a big girl who likes nuts. She’s had her heart set on five since I arranged the date. I honestly don’t know how she’s going to handle the disappointment.”

And here at our next stop, I should explain that small acts by tourists, like laying down towels, can have a disproportionately large effect on inhabitants of the natural world. Fred would like to tell you how towels affected him.

Fred the Worm

Well, I wasn’t sure once I made all this effort you were going to show up. At least you didn’t bring those bloody towels to block my entrance again.

“You have no idea how hard it is to get around at my age. Hours of digging only to find you can’t get out. And then you have to reverse, bend your old neck, and get all your muscles to work in reverse. A nightmare!

And would you believe it? When I finally drag myself to the pharmacy, I find a huge lineup of geriatrics and they’re sold out of ibuprofen!”

Finally, visitor actions can often sow unfortunate confusion. Our friend Gareth is an example.

Gareth the Firefly

I saw her. She dazzled me. Knocked me for six.

“When I recovered, I knew she was the one, the bright light of my life. Totally solid and unmovable in her commitment, it seemed. Even with so many lights to choose from on the patio, I knew we were meant for each other.

“Sadly, my feelings weren’t reciprocated, and her light is off now.

“It’s taken me a long time fluttering around in the dark to get it, but I now realize her fire must have gone out before she could commit.

Well, that’s it, everyone. I do hope that by visiting creatures you might not otherwise see or hear from, you can better appreciate your own personal footprint.

And I would, from here on in, watch where you sit down.

Coming next week: The summer complaints continue as another member of the Menagerie finally gets a word in.

“Tune in next week or don’t. The end is still nigh.”

— Rodney the Ram

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This week in the Pond Room, Dilly the Duck spends a full ten and a half minutes in animated discussion with Olive the Octopus. With only a seventeen-minute air window, Dilly dives beneath the surface to discover new ministries, efficiencies and permits that not only affect the reef but also threaten to spill over into the menagerie as a whole.

Dilly: Oh, welcome, Olive. I’m so sorry I’m running a bit behind. It was the Quackarzzi again camped out in the reeds. I did try to wear something innocuous, but style always seems to stand out no matter how much I try to blend in. (Olive starts at her) Oh yes, time is of the essence; we have 15 minutes?

Olive: 14.50… No….14.45. No… 14:40

Dilly: Yes, well, a tight timeline, no doubt. So, the reef’s got a new government. You’re at its head. How are things going?

Olive. So far it’s been fantastic! My first eight ministries have already effectively streamlined reef operations. It was total chaos when I arrived. Fish swimming all over the place in different directions. Obviously, I had to put in a system for aquatic permits to reduce congestion in narrow waterways.

Dilly: Obviously.

Olive: Yes! You really can’t overlook the importance of proper governance. Clockwise swimming on Monday, anti-clockwise on Tuesday and so on. I’ve noticed your pond could do with that. Far too much undisciplined floating by ducks. And unseemly hanging around reeds.

Dilly. That isn’t sloppiness. That’s the Quackarrzi. They were waiting for me!

Olive: And we’ve had a lot of unsanctioned lounging by sea lions. But since I’ve introduced a lounging improvement plan, we do expect to see more coordination and grace going forward.

Dilly: I’m definitely one for grace but I do wonder how one can improve one’s lounging. I do hope these permits and plans are confined to the reef. A lounging improvement plan sounds very…restrictive and I’ve no idea how that would pair properly with a nice chablis.

Olive: I give incentives. Yesterday I handed out a Golden Flow Award to seaweed for excellence in coordinated waving. And we’ve launched other initiatives too. A rock stability study to measure appropriate commitment to staying put. A dimmer-timer requirement for fluorescent fish and an emotional support group for waves who feel they’ve never reached their true height.

Dilly: But your personal history, I understand, has been a bit more rocky and I refer, of course, to your governing capabilities on your previous reef.

Olive: That’s all conjecture and not backed up. I’ve got 7 minutes and 10 seconds left.

Dilly: But I understand you left under murky circumstances.

Olive: That was a malfunction of my ink jet system. Purely accidental.

Dilly: So you haven’t obscured your record by simply slipping through a crack and taking over a new reef.

Olive: Not at all! All eight of my arms are dedicated to my new position. And we’ll be issuing directives and guidance continuously from now on to achieve a more harmonious atmosphere.

Dilly: On the reef?

Olive: Yes, and elsewhere, of course, where the need arises.

Dilly: Well, I can assure you the need won’t arise here. You must be running out of oxygen. Goodness gracious. We’re almost out of time.

Olive: I really feel a Ministry of Menagerie Affairs might be an excellent way….

Dilly: Thank you so much, Olive, for coming. We wish you well with your policies on the reef. So sad to cut the interview short.

Olive: I haven’t finished. I feel the new Ministry of Menagerie—

Dilly: -Thank you so much, Olive. Awful to run out of air. Any ideas, feel free to let them bubble up to the surface and we’ll be delighted to review them. (She pushes Olive out the door).

Coming next week...

Next week’s question: What’s the most annoying thing about summer?

The animals have opinions. Naturally.

“Tune in next week or don’t. The end is still nigh.”

— Rodney the Ram

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Olive has only just arrived on her new reef, and already she has issued several helpful new directives for better reef management. Olive seems particularly confident. Unfortunately, most fish are confused, relaxed seals are trying very hard not to laugh, and crabs don’t know whether sideways movement has been regulated…yet. I last heard they were patiently waiting for further guidance from the Ministry of Official Guidance.

Directive #41: Ministry of Continuous Improvement

Seals were observed being unnecessarily relaxed, happy and talkative while sunbathing yesterday. Future sunbathing sessions must include three measurable objectives. A Lounging Improvement Plan will be issued to repeat offenders.

Directive #22: Ministry of Official Forms

Schools of fish are required to declare their intended direction of travel before the commencement of classes to reduce avoidable congestion. A Directional Intent Form is now mandatory. Changes of direction require a revised Directional Intent Form. Updated copies must be provided to all participating fish.

Directive #8: Ministry of New Ministries

The ministry has observed unacceptable variations in shell attractiveness. To ensure a harmonious reef, a DEI (Dignity, Esteem, Inclusion) department has been created. Unapproved admiration of neighbouring shells is considered inconsistent with community values.

Directive #53: Ministry of Official Guidance

Excessive crab wandering is causing traffic pileups in narrow travel corridors. Crabs are encouraged to adopt a more forward-thinking approach and remember that sideways travel is a privilege, not a right.

Directive #1: Ministry of Strategic Transparency.

Fish Pension Portfolios darted and changed direction during the past week but overall upward momentum remains encouraging. We are pleased to confirm further clarity will be provided at a later date.

Directive #23: Ministry of Daily Priorities

Recently, seaweed has been observed waving far too enthusiastically, leading to uncoordinated and unsightly displays. Future displays of emotion must remain proportionate to both the current sea state and ministry priorities.

Directive #64: Ministry of Community Excellence

A Quiet Achievement Award has been issued to reef rock number 27 for its stability and steadfastness in the face of relentless battering. This award recognizes its continued commitment to remaining in place.

Directive #46: Ministry for Proper Procedures

Hermit crabs are reminded to complete the Shell Transfer Protocol before relocating. Unauthorized relocations will result in additional forms and a mandatory waiting period before the new shell may be occupied. Applicants are reminded that personal exposure during the waiting period does not constitute grounds for expedited processing.

Coming next week.

Dilly the Duck sits down with Olive the Octopus for a particularly speedy interview. With only 20 minutes available out of the water, including travel time, Dilly gets to the bottom of what’s happening on the reef in record time. Unfortunately, Olive still manages to announce three new policies before returning to the water. More worryingly, one of them applies to the entire Menagerie.

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This week, Olive the Octopus takes over the reins of government of a neighbouring reef. She’s positively bubbling with enthusiasm, ready to bring order and clarity where she believes chaos previously reigned. Her first act is to establish eight new ministries to ensure that everything runs as smoothly and with as little accountability as possible. The new ministries are as follows.

Ministry of New Ministries

This ministry exists to identify and create new ministries to respond to the needs of existing ministries. This ministry is proud to announce it has created a working group. Twenty-five more potential ministries are currently under review.

Ministry of New Daily Priorities

This ministry issues new priorities daily. All previous priorities will remain in effect until superseded by newer priorities.

Ministry of Official Forms

This ministry exists to create official forms. Any form found to be insufficiently official will be replaced by a more official form.

Ministry of Continuous Improvement

This ministry exists to encourage continuous improvement. Sea creatures are invited to submit improvements. Any submitted improvements will then be further improved.

Ministry for Proper Procedures

This ministry is responsible for maintaining proper procedures. A procedural review is currently underway to determine what procedures are proper.

Ministry of Strategic Transparency

This ministry is committed to open government and a report on current transparency levels has just been issued. Its findings remain confidential to preserve public confidence.

Ministry of Official Guidance

This ministry exists to offer official guidance. All guidance will be periodically reviewed to determine whether previous guidance requires additional guidance.

Ministry of Community Excellence

This ministry exists to reward stakeholder participation. A new star rating system has been introduced. The ratings arrive next week. Congratulations.

Coming next week:

Olive begins introducing important improvements to the reef. To her, everything is going well. The reef, however, is reserving judgement. Out of the water, nobody seems particularly concerned. Yet.

Tune in next week or don’t. The end is still nigh.
— Rodney the Ram

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Some creatures dream of adventure. Others dream of fame. Unfortunately, Olive the Octopus dreams of efficiency.

Convinced she possesses exceptional talents and is destined for greatness, Olive eventually discovers the one place where all eight of her arms can be put to full use. What follows is an extraordinary career, countless new ministries and a remarkable number of awards.

Whether the reef is ever quite the same afterwards is, of course, another matter.

Olive the Octopus, when a youngster in school,
endeavoured to follow each octopus rule.
The placement of suckers, changing colour of skin,
keeping tidy and organized any spot she was in.

“Oh my,” bubbled Olive, “my skills are a dream!
My abilities, diligence, simply supreme.
I’m focused on tasks, can zone out any noise,
and everyone notices my balance and poise.”

“Whoa,” gasped Squiblet from the back of the class,
“She can’t even hold her own centre of mass!
Look at her, arms failing all over the place,
she can’t even stay in her own assigned space.”

At home, she’d float out to the reef for a snack,
often finding it tough to find her way back.
Drifting in darkness, sucker probes here or there,
the tide pushed and pulled, not that she was aware.

And it was on one of those nocturnal excursions
that what happened next developed different versions.
One version made Olive an octopus hero,
whilst the other turned her innate skill set to zero.

That night, the sea was hit by a terrible storm,
one that buffeted Olive from dusk through to dawn.
Her suckers flailed, the current too strong,
no rock could save her as Olive swept on.

When the sea settled, Olive opened her eyes,
“Bless my suckers,” she said, “Oh, what a surprise!
Since leaving school, my opportunities lacking,
I’ve been sent to a new reef where I can get cracking.”

She tried a few jobs—none seemed a good fit.
They all fired her before she could quit.
Then by chance, a post on a government board
got Olive excited. “That sure strikes a chord!”

Director of Administrative Efficiency. Ooh that’s for me!
It certainly sounds like my cup of tea.
I’ll use my intelligence, my organizational charms
and put to good use all eight of my arms.”

So starting in government, she held jobs here and there,
ruining each with her octopus flair.
And yet, government rewards when things go awry.
No one it seems, quite understands why.

Olive said, “You see, the universe sent me this way,
a place where my skills can be used day to day.
My policies will bring prosperity, a sigh of relief
to every creature that inhabits this reef.

“I’ll start ministries,” she burbled, “one for each arm,
a ministry for growth—to explore a fish farm.
And for each ministry, of course, I’ll be at its head.
Our economy will expand like an air bubble,” she said.

The creatures on the reef, well, they seemed bemused,
an octopus on their reef, that was definitely news.
With eight arms, perhaps more could be done,
that would bring prosperity and stop cost overrun.

Olive’s new office was expansive, no doubt,
with tons of room for her arms to spread out.
But priorities first, an Inkstagram boast,
“Working for you,” said the pic on Olive’s first post.

Later Olive, in an appearance on Current TV,
said, “I’m bringing real change—the kind you can see.
Take my ministry’s new fish farming traps,
that have successfully prevented our economic collapse.

“No,” shouted a crab. “That’s not true at all!
You’ve killed all the creatures that slide, swim and crawl.
Our ocean home, which used to flower with new life,
has now come to a halt under your austerity knife.”

“No worries,” bubbled Olive, “I have a ministry that’s new,
which completely understands your point of view.
‘Sea Concern Management’ is the new ministry’s name.
It’ll make small adjustments and avoid undue blame.

So Olive doubled down, her bureaucracy swelled.
One arm stomped out what the other upheld.
And when angry critics asked, “Who made this muddle?”
Olive replied, “Just believe in the bubble!”

And the creatures did for a while, since the Bubblecast News
simply didn’t reflect any alternative views.
But as Olive’s policies caused skyrocketing prices,
she said, “It’s temporary: we must make sacrifices.”

But the sacrifices, it seemed, only affected the poor.
The middle class simply didn’t exist anymore.
Some saw ahead and got things to store,
as companies and farmers declared force majeure.

“Oh,” bubbled Olive, “It’s so hard to be me,
carrying the burden for what goes on in the sea.
Making new rules on what they can afford,
I should make and accept this brand new award.

And so Olive did, she hung awards from each arm.
Some were for growth, some just for her charm.
Bejewelled, she held aloft her rewards from the state,
pocketed service and salary, all clearly first-rate.

Meanwhile Inkstagram’s profits sank like a stone.
Nobody bought expensive plans for their phone.
Industry kept tanking, the bubble burst caving in.
The results? Crystal clear, despite much narrative spin.

Sea creatures gathered, started causing a stink.
Olive overreacted by jetting black ink.
She tried being fluid, flexible, avoiding the flack,
“Stop Olive!” they chanted, but she squeezed through a crack.

Her medals corroded, only seen now and again.
Changing colour, she slunk off to find a new den.
As to the legacy of Olive—oh, what can I say?
She’s still associated with bubbles right to this day.

Coming Next Week: Following her appointment to a new government position on a neighbouring reef, Olive's first act is to establish one ministry for each arm. Unfortunately, one of them, the Ministry of Menagerie Affairs, is about to extend its reach far beyond the reef...

Tune in next week or don’t. The end is still nigh.
— Rodney the Ram

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Summer has arrived in the Menagerie, bringing tourists, strategic ice cream concerns, optimistic economic forecasts and a fresh round of entirely unsolicited advice.

This edition features updates from across the Menagerie, including Pietro's ethical barbecue guide, Admiral Early's latest security assessment, Crump's seasonal achievements, Puffcoin market developments, and reports from several individuals whose confidence, as usual, continues to exceed their qualifications. Enjoy.

Coming Next Week:

Meet Olive the Octopus. Organized, confident, ambitious...and about to discover the perfect career.

Tune in next week or don’t. The end is still nigh.
— Rodney the Ram

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The Hollow Grove Oracle continues to grow in popularity, offering instant guidance on everything from leadership to lunch. This week, Dilly welcomes Ollie the Owl to the Pond Room to discuss the difference between having answers and having wisdom.

Dilly: Oh, Ollie, how wonderful of you to join us. (She looks at him. (No answer) Ollie? Ollie. (He slowly opens his eyes). Ah, you were obviously contemplating the question. My apologies. I could have scheduled the interview later, but by dusk I’m usually halfway through a lovely cool Chablis.

Ollie: Lucky you.

Dilly: Oh, indeed. Now you’re here to talk about this Oracle AI of yours. I understand it’s causing you some discomfort.

Ollie: Not me. I ignore it but owls have forgotten how to use their brains.

Dilly: Well, I’ve tried it and it really is the most marvellous thing. It described me as unusually perceptive, which, as you know, is an invaluable asset in my job. I thought it particularly astute.

Ollie: It says that to everyone.

Dilly: Oh.

Ollie: Besides, perception is a skill that needs silence and observation over long periods.

Dilly: Isn’t that tiring? Do you ever fall asleep?

Ollie: No, we observe…

Dilly: Oh, right. So that’s what you call it. Anyway, I understand your Oracle is hugely popular.

Ollie: Yes, the forest used to glow with fireflies. Now it glows with charging ports.

Dilly: Well, isn’t that progress? It assured me my hat suggested exceptional leadership.

Ollie: It also told Admiral Early his ice cream security strategy was historically significant.

Dilly: You’re implying that it’s wrong.

Ollie: It has no context. It’s never flown or…worn a hat.

Dilly: But it can pick out the wheat from the chaff, the seamless glide from the common waddle. It has an excellent eye for quality, obviously...

Ollie: It fills silences that weren't empty.

Dilly: Well, unnecessary perhaps... though one can’t fault its judgment.

Ollie: Wisdom rarely feels the need to judge.

Dilly: Well, thank you so much for coming to enlighten us, Ollie. I'm sure our audience has found all this most illuminating. Obviously a little wisdom goes a long way. Any more and I'll be needing another glass.

Coming Next Week:

Summer arrives in the Menagerie, bringing tourists, melting ice cream, questionable barbecue decisions and the annual struggle for shade. My printed Dispatches from the Menagerie – Summer Field Edition returns to cafés and coffee shops this week, featuring Pietro's ethical barbecue guide, Admiral Early's latest coastal security updates, Crump's seasonal achievements, Florence's heatwave advice and reports from around the Menagerie.

Tune in next week or don’t. The end is still nigh.

— Rodney the Ram

This week, users wrote in to the Oracle Support Desk with questions involving everything from identity to fruit. As always, support staff did their best to help, despite the fact that they have no greater understanding of the Oracle than anyone else.

For readers unfamiliar with the Hollow Grove AI Oracle, the source of the problem can be found here:

User: The Oracle short-circuited during last week’s heat wave. My mom hasn’t eaten since.

Support: Has she tried asking your dad?

User: My dad’s been stuck holding a tomato for three days.

User: The Oracle proposed to my friend last week. This week all he says is “Processing...” and stares into space.

Support: Has your friend tried turning the relationship off and on again?

User: The Oracle said I was old enough to fly.

Support: Congratulations.

User: I wasn’t. I’ve since been adopted by a compost heap.

User: The Oracle told me I’m a brilliant light in a forest of mediocrity. So now I’ve purchased sunglasses for my friends.

Support: This message relates to display settings and was not directed at you personally.

User: The Oracle says I’ve found the secret to the universe. I’ve purchased robes and become difficult to interrupt.

Support: Oracle wishes you to know you have now been successfully concluded. Congratulations.

User: What’s Oracle’s life span? If he goes before me, I won’t know what to put in the fridge.

Support: We recommend discussing next steps with your vegetables.

User: Oracle says I should trust my instincts.

Support: That only comes in update 4.7.

User: During electrical surges, Oracle thinks I’m a vole. I’ve buried three sandwiches and a set of car keys.

Support: We recommend remaining yourself until service is restored.

Coming next week:

In the Pond Room, Dilly seeks clarification from Ollie regarding the recent Oracle incident, the nature of wisdom, and whether repeated compliments should be considered evidence.

Tune in next week — or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

Welcome to the Menagerie

If you’ve arrived here via a newsletter left in a café, waiting room, ferry terminal, community space, bookshop, village hall, or other establishment willing to tolerate ducks, you’re in the right place.

Before we start though, I would like to add that all the Menagerie characters, poems and writing are my own original creations. The illustrations are AI-generated, with the exception of Crump the Cat, who is illustrated by cartoonist Greg Perry.

The Menagerie is a satirical world populated by ducks, cats, pigs, chickens, frogs, owls, ants and the occasional penguin who believes he’s qualified to discuss economics. The animals have opinions on politics, culture and human behaviour. Many of them are deluded enough to think they’re helping.

I started the newsletter on Salt Spring Island a few months ago after I became fed up of shouting into the void on social media and decided to see what would happen if I left a few newsletters in local cafés instead. To my surprise, people started reading them. Before long, cafés were asking for more after copies kept disappearing into purses, carrier bags and the front seats of cars.

Each one of my characters arrived in my life via a poem. The poems rhymed. Their behaviour doesn’t. They arrived noisily, spouting opinions, dragging charts and interrupting my train of thought, carrying the histories that made them who they are. You can find their collective poetic debuts on my feed.

Each month, one or more of them takes centre stage, and every so often, a new one arrives on the scene. In between there are interviews, briefings, observations, emergency meetings, public statements, and other developments that nobody asked for but which continue regardless.

If you’d like future dispatches from the Menagerie, including field editions of the newsletter delivered to your inbox, you can subscribe above.

And, if you’re part of a pub, café, community group, waiting room, bookshop, village hall, or other establishment willing to tolerate economic forecasts from penguins, commentary from concerned frogs, and the occasional intervention from a duck, you can email me directly and I’ll happily add you to the distribution list.

Dilly the Duck would also like it noted that she considers herself editor-in-chief of this important cultural initiative and has begun referring to herself as Director of Inter-Island and International Relations.

Nobody appointed her.

I don’t think that matters.

Following a regrettable outbreak of outsourced thinking involving an oracle with glowing crystal eyes and eternal knowledge (provided he remained plugged in), Ollie the Owl agreed to answer questions from the floor. Attendance was high. Understanding was mixed. Patience, fortunately, was endless.

Sadly, the mushrooms did not provide any additional clarity.

Readers requiring background information may wish to read: Ollie the Owl: The Day the Owls Stopped Thinking

Owl: Can I get ‘quiet’ on Hootify?

Ollie: Only if you don’t talk.

Owl: There’s a waitlist for premium thinking. Is it worth the wait?

Ollie: Have you tried the standard version?

Owl: Can I sync humility across platforms?

Ollie: Well, If it’s genuine, yes. It usually syncs automatically.

Owl: Anyone else getting super anxious waiting for their premium patience subscription?

Ollie: Hmm…it looks like the app is working.

Owl: My ‘concentration’ stream goes quiet for ages. Is it broken?

Ollie: No. That’s the concentration.

Owl: If I’ve got all the facts, why hasn’t understanding downloaded yet?

Ollie: Unfortunately, sometimes it never does.

Owl: Does ancient wisdom include updates?

Ollie: No. Then it wouldn’t be ancient.

Owl: My stillness app has had me flapping around all over the place. Is that normal?

Ollie: Have you tried being still?

Owl: My patience app keeps sending me notifications. I threw it in the pond but now it won’t work. What can I do?

Ollie: Umm…wait?

Owl: My Hootify choices say I’m calm, ShriekBook says I’m angry, TailTok says I’m inspirational, and BranchIn says I’m a thought leader. Which one is the real me?

Ollie: Which one are you when they’re all turned off?

Owl: Is ancient wisdom available in premium?

Ollie: Most owls haven’t finished the free version.

Owl: HollowGDP says I need perspective. Will it provide it?

Ollie: No.

The meeting concluded shortly afterwards. Several owls left determined to become wiser. Most intended to begin by updating their apps.

Coming next week:

Many owls attended Ollie the Owl’s Question and Answer session. While several described the answers as sensible, thoughtful and occasionally profound, others felt they lacked convenience.

The owls have therefore returned to the Oracle.

Next week: Tickets from the Oracle Support Desk.

Tune in next week — or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

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Welcome.

You’ve arrived here because you scanned a QR code from a newsletter that was probably left in a pub, café, waiting room, village hall, or other location with chairs.

My name is Anna Lussenburg. I grew up in Sherborne, Dorset, but now live on Salt Spring Island, a small island off the west coast of Canada.

Before we start though, I would like to add that all the Menagerie characters, poems and writing are my own original creations. The illustrations are AI-generated, with the exception of Crump the Cat, who is illustrated by cartoonist Greg Perry.

Some years ago I created a satirical world called The Menagerie. It is populated by ducks, cats, pigs, owls, ants, frogs, chickens and the occasional penguin that fancies himself an economist. The animals have opinions on politics, culture and human behaviour. Many of them are deluded enough to think they’re helping.

Each one of them arrived in my life via a poem. The poems rhymed. Their behaviour doesn't. They arrived noisily, spouting opinions, dragging charts and interrupting my train of thought, carrying the histories that made them who they are. You can find their collective poetic debuts on my feed.

Each month, one or more of them takes centre stage, and every so often, a new one arrives on the scene. In between there are interviews, briefings, observations, emergency meetings, public statements, and other developments that nobody asked for but which continue regardless.

If you’d like future dispatches from the Menagerie, including field editions of the newsletter delivered to your inbox, you can subscribe above.

And if you found the “Dispatches from the Menagerie” newsletter in a particular pub, café, waiting room, bookshop, or other natural duck habitat, I’d love to know where. Feel free to leave a comment.

The animals are curious. Several have asked whether there are other venues.

So, if you’re part of a pub, café, community group, waiting room, bookshop, village hall, or other establishment willing to tolerate the presence of ducks, you can email me directly, and I’ll happily add you to the distribution list.

PS. I should tell you though that Dilly the Duck regards this as an important international cultural exchange programme and is already beginning to refer to herself as Cultural Attaché to the United Kingdom. She’s there already on a visit. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop her.

This week in the Menagerie, the owls discover a remarkable new oracle. It answers every question, offers advice on everything, and never once suggests that anyone think for themselves. Naturally, it becomes an instant success.

The owls think they’ve found the future. Ollie suspects they may have misplaced their brains.

Ollie the owl, as soon as he hatched from his egg,
asked question after question, as they entered his head.
His mother was patient, so was his dad,
though his theories on mushrooms drove everyone mad.

Who is the Wise Owl? Why’s he so wise?
Why is he silent and asleep at sunrise?
Why is the Hollow Grove the place we should go?
Why does the Wise Owl always just ‘know’?

Other owls, not so patient, instead rolled their eyes.
”Stop asking questions! The old owl is just wise!
He’s there if you can’t figure out a way to catch mice.
He’s there to give owls the best kind of advice.

In the Hollow Grove with him, you can hear yourself think.
Your answers come with a nod and a blink.
Because, in the silence you can hear your heart beat
and you just seem to know what you can and can’t eat.”

Ollie loved the Wise Owl, for he was enchanted.
There’s no way he’d take all that owl wisdom for granted.
He visited all the time, hung out—sat in silence,
waiting for the wise one to offer its guidance.

Instead of screens, Ollie lay in the trees,
hearing ancient mushroom whispers dance on the breeze.
Forest folklore flowed right out of his beak,
while his school friends thought him a weird hippy freak.

His schoolmates jeered, “Hey Ollie, the Wise Owl’s old.
Are you going to always do whatever you’re told?
There’s new info on phones, computers, TV,
and you can make up your own mind about who you will be.”

Ollie sat in the night drawing symbols in soil,
waiting for his green tea kettle to boil.
He whispered to mosses, made tinctures, herb jam
and handwrote a blog titled “I know who I am.”

His owlet buddies stayed peering at screens,
while Ollie soared in nature, ignoring machines.
Then one day, there came a new thing…AI
“It’s so cool!” yelled his peers! “Just give it a try.”

The owls gasped in awe—a moment semi-historical
”Here he is,” they whispered. “He calls himself Oracle.
We’ve set him up in the old Hollow Grove,
so now it’s in with the new and out with the old.”

“But what about Wise Owl?” asked Ollie confused.
“If you chuck him out, he’ll feel unwanted, abused.
He’s been with all of us, through thick and through thin
and now that he’s old, you want to throw him in the bin?”

“This Oracle’s epic, it’s all-knowing, all-wise.
It sits in the Hollow Grove. It has glowing eyes.
It speaks all the time; it’s full of cool stuff,
like what the wind speeds are on the top of the bluff.

It runs on great batteries, it’s always awake.
It even looks like an owl, though we know it’s a fake
But unlike the old one, it’s wise and high-tech
With ten teraflops of thought built in to its spec.”

“You can talk to it!” said one owl, looking awed.
“Over and over, like, it never gets bored.
Ask dumb questions, and it never complains.
It doesn’t even care if we don’t use our brains.”

As Oracle’s fame spread through the trees
and tales of its aid hung on the breeze.
the older owls grumbled. “It’s rad and though new,
there are many amazing things it can do.”

As they flew to the grove, Ollie stood by bemused.
“I’ll go home,” he said. “Mom and Dad aren’t confused.
They’ll understand this new Oracle’s cost
and they’ll have the measure of what we have lost.

But mom and dad had just installed an AI of their own,
a smaller version of Oracle—a new AI clone.
And with it a charging port on their nearest tree.
“Oh look,” they said, ‘it’s like a smart kind of TV.”

“You’re crazy,” said Ollie. “How could you keep that thing on?
You used to think for yourself; now it’s your sine qua non.
You wait for its data on optimum flight
and where the vole is, for the best line of sight.

Going back to the grove, he found it temporarily closed.
Amid chanting and ritual, one owl proposed.
It loves me!” she shrieked. “We’re so emotionally bonded!
The Oracle blinked. “It’s true love,” it responded.

All over the woods, many owls lost the plot,
waiting for coordinates and the right hunting spot.
Told when to shriek, or when they should hoot,
optimum perch times while waiting to swoop.

“It’s insane,” said the owls. “It tells us the best time to hoot
and the optimum moment for owls to stay mute.
It tells us when it’s the perfect time to get food,
and how to snag prey from the right altitude.

Ollie pointed. “Look at the Fitbit you’ve got on your feet!
It tells you the calories an owl’s meant to eat.
But instead of trusting, you let it dictate,
and now look at you, you’re all losing weight!

“Give it a go!” said a bud. “You don’t know what you’re missing.
It solves every question, like why my bro owl is hissing.”
Ollie looked shaken. “Ok, I will, just once, right?
I’ll prove I’m open-minded and not a Luddite.”

He tentatively stepped toward the Oracle’s perch.
I’d like you to do a psychological search.
“Tell me, if you can, what you offer and why
owls should trust you with what goes on in their sky?

Since you’ve never felt the wind in your feathers,
nor travelled aloft in all kinds of weathers,
how do you know what we feel, the thrill of the chase
and how we dive down and hurtle through space?”

“Wait!” said the Oracle. “Thought upgrade required.
My teraflops are blinking; circuits are wired.
System reboot in progress: Wind speed correct.
Flight systems optimal: Launch pad on deck.

“Oooh,” said the owls, “Amazing! Inspired!
The Oracle even knows how it’s wired.”
“Are you kidding?” cried Ollie. “It’s gibberish, shit!
It’s robbed you all of your wisdom and wit.

And you’ve got insomnia, none of you sleep.
Since you’re waiting for Oracle to blink and to bleep.
You keep falling off perches, one eye’s always open,
Then complain to the ER: “My wing bones are broken!”

“Can’t you see that this Oracle is a no-win?
You only eat when it says. Now look, you’re so thin!
It’s ever-expanding; our woods flash with light,
and fireflies? Replaced by a cold charging light.”

“Hey Ollie, dude,” said one, “it’s just how things are.
Progress is progress. We owls have come far.”
“No!” shouted Ollie. “You’ve forgotten your soul!
What makes you an owl, that’s what AI just stole.”

Ollie’s words, though, went nowhere, so he strutted away
If I can kill AI, owls will find their way!
I’ll look in dad’s shed, get a strong pair of pliers!
And rip out Oracle’s cables and wires.

So in the dead of night, with pliers in beak,
He flew to Hollow Grove, snipped the wires of the geek.
The Oracle’s eyes gave a flicker, then quickly went black
As Ollie flew on for a charger attack.

The wood eerily quiet, the owls slept deep.
For the first time in ages, they got some real sleep.
They woke up at dusk, as they had all their lives,
ready to hunt, catch voles and do all their dives.

There were some complaints; Ollie had to explain
that AI was busy taking over their brain.
While some info is useful, it just went too far
and suddenly made owls forget who they are.

Owls since have been putting on weight (so they say),
and they’re flying like they always did back in the day.
Just like before, they swoop and they soar,
And the wise old owl? Well, he’s back once more.

The Hollow Grove reverence has been restored.
Owls visit a lot now; they’ve been a bit bored.
But instead of data, they get a nod and a blink,
and plenty of time to just sit and think.

Coming next week:

Next week in the Menagerie, Ollie the Owl takes questions from the floor. The owls are preparing several. The mushrooms are influential.

Tune in next week—or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

© 2026 Anna Lussenburg. All rights reserved.

The first field edition of Observations from the Menagerie—a one-page front-and-back dispatch currently being quietly distributed through cafés, pubs, and other places with chairs.

This June edition features observations from Dilly, Nellie, Florence, Crump, and others, along with weather, classifieds, and a brief update on Puffcoin.

If you’d like to print a few copies for your own café, pub, waiting room, community notice board, or magazine, and would like to get on next month’s Menagerie rotation, please send me a note at anna@annalussenburg.com.

The animals like to know where they’re making an impression.

Coming next week:

Ollie the Owl. A long time ago, owls went to the Hollow Grove to sit quietly and think. Now they go there for updates.

Ollie has concerns.

Tune in next week — or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

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This week in the Menagerie: a restless colony, triumphant agreements, and an alarming decline in protest standards. As always, the animals have thoughts and… solutions.

Ava the Ant

Well, this has been quite a week and hot by the pool, though I hear the ants have been a bit restive in the tunnels. I do find the pool is where I have my best ideas and where I can really consider their concerns. It might look like a perk at first glance, but let me assure you that it’s during those quiet moments afloat that I’m best able to sense and break surface tension when it appears.

That’s why this week I’ve launched a wonderful new initiative, WeMound. Maybe you’ve heard of WeWork, but it was a flop because of the human inability to work together. Of course working together is the defining attribute of any labouring ant. Disparate workplaces can lead to duplication, confusion, and occasionally unfortunate squishing effects. WeMound will eradicate tunnel vision and naturally bring the workforce together, reinforcing each tunnel on top of the next. It may even offer those ants with potential some middle management surface-level opportunities, though upper-mound access, of course, requires other talents. I’ve already made a post about it on Antstagram and TunnelTok and I must say the uptake has been encouraging.

Crump the Cat

This week has been a week of historic agreements—the best and most triumphant agreements ever made. Before me, sad types would try to get both sides together and come up with a solution. Big mistake, gargantuan.

My agreements need no solution and no two sides. Why waste time gathering around a sad, dusty little table staring at each other? The best kind of agreements have one side only—the best side. You declare they signed something, then because nobody knows what’s in it, you’ve won. Bigly obvious. Supreme strategy. Nobody else could do it.

Dilly the Duck

Oh dearie me, what a week! There was an actual protest on the pond this week. Ducks showing up with the most vulgar signs—completely ruining the view from the terrace. I mean if you’re going to have a sign, then it should at least be visually appealing. And all those ducks crowded together—it completely lowers the neighbourhood tone. And the language! It’s not as if they have much to complain about. The bugs are out, the pond is warm but no, no, no, there’s always something.

This week, they’re worried about the economy. Things are apparently getting more and more expensive. My personal shopper has mentioned it, though my staples are flown in so it’s never really entered my orbit. A rise here or there is like the water level—you just brush it off and move on.

Coming next week:

The first field edition of Observations from the Menagerie—a one-page front-and-back dispatch currently being quietly distributed through cafés, pubs, and other structurally unstable public spaces.

Expect weather updates, classified ads, etiquette guidance, economic reassurance, and several animals speaking with far more confidence than expertise.

Rodney the Ram also wishes me to remind you that societal decline continues regardless of distribution format.

Tune in next week — or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

Rodney the Ram

As Confleecius once said, “May you live in interesting times,” and we certainly are. Watching Baaflix, engaging in flock flow yoga, or going to the Rut Club might offer some distractions, but I really feel that this whole Hormuz crisis is just going to end up fleecing the entire flock through relentless inflation.

And the stock market? Well, just take a peek… all-time heights. The shear attraction we have to our stock portfolios and the ewe-phoria of ever higher highs—I just don’t feel it’s sustainable given the current news. If you ask me, the market is going to fall into a rut, but then I’m not known for my optimism.

What I do know is that every part of the flock economy, including the stock market, runs on energy, and when one starts wobbling, one after another, they tend to follow each other off a cliff. They’ll say I’m overreacting, but I’m used to that.

Pietro the Pig

Ah yes, the stock market. We have our own boar market and it’s doing equally well, but we pigs never stress over the day to day, unless there’s a plate looming, of course. There is an old Italian pig expression: “Donna fighta the mud.” It means when you find yourself stuck, give in to the wallow.

Deep snout breathing, hot trough yoga, mudfulness—all of these are useful. And there are always opportunities to increase your personal wealth if you stay spiritually aligned with abundance. My new album of spiritual snorting is now #1 in ancient barnyard wellness on Snoutify. It goes to show you how effective values-based wallowing can be.

Dilly the Duck

Well, it’s been yet another stimulating week on the pond and off. Jet fuel prices are up and it’s having a bit of an effect on the feathered aristocracy in first class simply because they’ve been axing routes. I am seeing some surface tension on worries about continued stock-market buoyancy too, but I think it’s just another narrative current that’s likely temporary in nature.

In troubling times though, I do agree with Pietro on one thing: there’s definitely room for relaxing sounds to control the drift. We’ve been busy experimenting along those lines. First we started with the obvious for our evening program, sounds of evening crickets, bubbling marshes—that sort of thing. But then we hired a new Pond Capital Consultant who’s added all sorts of wonderful new sounds. Apparently we needed to up the tone.

Turns out the proletariat, you know… aspires.

So now we have sounds like aquatic lounge, ice clinking in crystal glass, champagne pours, and even the sounds of page turns from an expensive magazine. Quite remarkable to find out they have taste really. I always assumed that when I’m paddling in Prada, they’d be perfectly happy waddling in Walmart. Who knew?

Coming next week:

Next week in the Menagerie: Ava the Ant discusses coordinated resilience strategies, while Crump the Cat takes personal credit for total global chaos, calling it the “best chaos ever.”

Tune in next week—or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

On the surface, it has been a very good week in the Menagerie. Progress is being made, performance is strong, and Celeste and Puffy are both content with the direction of travel. Beneath that, however, Dilly has observed a few minor ripples of concern.

Celeste the Chicken

We’ve introduced a major new farm initiative this spring to both enhance farm profitability and animal satisfaction. It’s well known that animals need stimulation, which cannot always be adequately provided in indoor feeding lots, and inflationary pressures on the farm, of course, have been mounting. Our solution: competitive feeding escalators. Less food and less time to eat it fosters brain stimulation through natural competition. Our profit margins, as you might expect, have skyrocketed. Share dividends up, shareholders happy, and animals kept busy. It really is a win-win.

Puffy the Penguin

I’m particularly pleased with Puffcoin’s performance over the last week. The unfortunates stuck outside the huddle have suggested it’s a bubble, but of course they don’t understand the fundamentals. It’s like being on the giant ice expressway: you keep going no matter what or you’re squashed and out of the game.

It’s been a busy week too at the Frozen Beak Club. Far too many had put their coins on ice, and it took a few whiskies on the rocks to melt their intransigence. Still, things are flowing nicely now, and I must say there is nothing like a bracing game of ice chip polo to get everyone’s spirits soaring.

Dilly the Duck

This week there have definitely been a few minor ripples of concern popping up here and there on inflationary issues amongst the flock, and a few ruffled feathers too. Damping them down is so much harder than it might look. It’s particularly hard after I followed your advice from our last interview, Puffy, and launched ‘GlideCoin’. It hasn’t nearly generated the uptake I’d hoped for. Ducks have just drifted past the opportunity.

It blows my feathers how the masses just can’t seem to get it together.

And as for profit, well, it’s nice to know that even if my GlideCoin is losing momentum, the farming sector is doing so well. Competition can be a motivating factor—I find—to a point. I would hate to think that my ducks had a choice of two stations. That could cause unsettling waves that threaten our collective tranquillity. I always say, a tranquil pond needs to offer just the right amount of buoyancy and reassurance to prevent any ripples bubbling up beneath the surface.

Coming next week:

Rodney presents his findings, Pietro offers his conclusions, and Dilly does her best to keep things… presentable.

This week in the Menagerie, several voices have been following developments closely, each offering their own perspective. As ever, they speak with confidence—though unfortunately, clarity does not always follow.

Nellie the Nightingale

Have you noticed how much AI music has taken off recently? Of course, its success is because it’s trained on real artists like myself. The building blocks of my voice have been infused into the very infrastructure of music itself.

It’s rather like adding cream to a sauce—the cream being someone like me, naturally. What you’re left with is something far more satisfying, available at any time, without the inconvenience of waiting for a live performance.

After all, we stars do need our rest.

And really, once perfection has been achieved, there’s no reason to keep repeating the process manually. Performing, while lovely, does take it out of you and of course, my audience is relentless in their appreciation of my talent. If you ask me, that’s what systems are for. Efficiency, scalability… legacy.

I think what people call “authenticity” is simply a temporary attachment to what they think represents art, but really, expansion is the key to true art and always has been.

Florence the Frog

I don’t know about you but I’ve been glued to the news recently. I really feel the news from the Strait of Hormuz is really going to spur ahead the green transition and I’m excited about that.

But then I tried to take the bus and the fares have doubled and the lady at the Green Clean Emporium has told me prices are up significantly because diesel prices have doubled. That’s just for now, of course.

And they’re all out of hemp buttons. It’s not that the buttons aren’t there but they’re having trouble putting them in plastic for packaging.

And my friends Lavender and Roseywood took me for a coffee at the Leaf and Bean coffee shop on Lily Pad Pond and the prices have doubled! It won’t last, of course—but we very nearly fell off the pad.

I just hope this Strait of Hormuz thing doesn’t go on very long. Of course, even a short interruption is catapulting us in the right direction and of course, that’s where we need to go.

It’s just hard to find your feet. One minute you’re fine and the next minute, you feel out of your depth.

Dilly the Duck

Well, my dear, what a week. It’s been quite exhausting keeping up with things. I don’t know how they expect those of us in the media to maintain such… vigilance.

On the one hand, music has achieved a level of perfection so complete that it seems the artist is no longer required. On the other, prices are up, and there’s a shortage of—may I say—critical accessories on the apparel end of things. I must say, good buttons are worth their weight in gold, though I can’t say I use the hemp variety. A little too… earthy for my taste.

It all feels as though everything is shifting in different directions—rather like when two currents meet on the pond. One never quite knows where the ripples will end up.

One can only hope they don’t sweep away what remains of common sense.

Coming next week:

More observations from the Menagerie. Puffy the Penguin has been making a number of points, most of them his own.

Tune in next week—or don’t. The end is still nigh.
—Rodney the Ram

A few observations from the week, as seen from within the Menagerie, where Admiral Early, Crump the Cat, and Dilly the Duck attempt to make things clearer, though clarity is not always the outcome.

Admiral Early

You may have heard we’ve executed a new tactical plan for final dominance in the Strait of Hormuz. Non-military people might not understand the complexity of such a strategically simple move, but don’t be fooled. When you are trying to open a strait that was open before it was closed, you have to close it so that the enemy has to deal with the fallout from keeping what was once open closed, until they agree to open it again under the continued threat of having it closed. Works every time.

Crump the Cat

I’m going to make yet another gargantuan, historic, winning agreement shortly. Nobody makes agreements like me. Frankly, before me, there weren’t even real agreements—just tepid, miserable scraps of paper pretending to be agreements. Very sad.

I changed that. I brought winning into agreements. People didn’t even know you could win an agreement until I came along. Now they try, but it’s not the same. It’s never the same. To make a real agreement, you have to win, which is why only I can make them. Legendary skill. Limitless winning.

Dilly the Duck

Oh my dear, such a week. Inflation, I understand, is in the air and causing a great deal of stress. The ducks are sniffing it everywhere. But then again, my air is purified through Dior, which provides such a calm atmosphere and removes unnecessary nasal influences from the pond.

I really can’t sing its praises enough. They have one called Serene Pond—limited edition, naturally—where one feels in the pond, but without the more pervasive and lingering attributes of the masses. Concerns are still there, of course, but one does feel so much better about them.

Coming next week: More observations from the Menagerie, as Florence the Frog and others attempt to make sense of matters that are proving rather resistant.

Tune in next week—or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

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Dilly the Duck welcomed Rodney the Ram to the Pond Room to discuss what he insists is a growing problem with Supergrass, along with the more immediate question of whether a well-timed glass of wine might make it all rather easier to take.

Dilly: Welcome, Rodney! I see you’ve come with all your charts. I do hope you’re not going to stretch them all out on my table… I won’t have room for the microphone.

Rodney: No, they’re there for pertinent questions.

Dilly: Ooh, I’ll be careful not to ask one. But seriously. This Supergrass decline stuff—some would say it’s alarmist. I mean, are you sure you’re not just spinning us a yarn with what seems like end-of-the-world talk?

Rodney: I’ve never implied it’s the end of the world, but it will impact our grass-based economy. The Ewe N has the same grass depletion studies I do—they just classify all grasses the same when they’re clearly not.

Dilly: You’re not suggesting they’re trying to pull the wool over our eyes?

Rodney: Deliberate or not, it confuses things.

Dilly: Oh yes, of course, and one mustn’t have confused sheep. Where one goes, they all follow.

Rodney: Yes, that’s rather the problem. It’s supergrass that enables us to live the way we do, and it’s supergrass that’s on the decline. In this chart— (he begins to open one)

Dilly: Oh, you don’t need to prove it to us. I don’t doubt your work is at the bleating edge. But tell me, Rodney, for those of us without charts and statistics, how worried should we be? It’s not going to affect my choice of vintage, is it?

Rodney: Well…

Dilly: I’ll have to stock up then. What’s so special about it anyway? It’s just grass.

Rodney: Yes… and unfortunately, that does tend to be the level at which it’s understood.

Dilly: Does that mean we’ll all be on a diet?

Rodney: Well… nothing really runs without it. You have to understand—it took millennia to form, and we are consuming it at a rate that would be considered… ambitious, if one were feeling charitable.

Dilly: I can’t say I eat the stuff—the supergrass. A bit of pondweed here or there, certainly. One must stay connected to one’s roots. I do find it pairs rather well with Dom Pérignon.

Rodney: Yes… well, it’s a continual challenge to make a message of consuming less appeal to the masses.

Dilly: You obviously need to make the message more chewable, as it were. I’m still chewing on it myself. You can hardly tell sheep it’s the end of their ewe-topia. I mean, it would cause shear panic amongst the flock.

Rodney: That’s rather the issue.

Dilly: So how are you getting the word out? Are you on Fleecebook, Instaram? EweTube?

Rodney: Yes. And we’ve tried… most of them.

Dilly: And the response?

Rodney: Bleak.

Dilly: Well, I can understand why. Announcing the end of the party is never going to make you popular. No ewe-turn in public opinion then?

Rodney: Unfortunately not.

Dilly: Well, Rodney. No doubt you’ll continue to ram through your exceptionally pointed message. I may, for once, forgo the wait for sundown before a chilled Chablis. I suddenly feel the need. Thank you so much for joining us.

Coming next week:

A number of voices from the Menagerie will be weighing in on recent developments in the news. Some with concern. Others… less so.

Tune in next week—or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

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The Flock Action Plan: A Responsible Path Forward

Prepared by: Concerned Members of the Flock
In response to: Rodney’s recent Q & A (which many found “momentarily concerning”)

Following recent discussions regarding Supergrass decline, the flock has undertaken a comprehensive review of our current grazing practices and associated lifestyle considerations. We are pleased to present what we feel is a balanced and forward-looking strategy that addresses grazing challenges while maintaining our shared commitment to wellbeing and the continuity of grass consumption.

1. Mindful Grazing Initiative
   It has been noted that while on the grass there has, for many members of the flock, a compulsion to “just eat.” To prevent mindless chewing, the flock will engage in a morning fleece-fulness ritual, chanting “Baa… thank you, Supergrass, for your baa…ounty,” to help delay pangs and assess real grass needs before chewing commences. Fresh-cut snacks will be provided.

2. Leave a Blade Behind Advertising Campaign
   We have booked an advertising spot on Baaflix to encourage viewers to eat one blade short of satiety with our new campaign, “Leave a Blade Behind.” We anticipate pasture-wide coverage and a meaningful shift in grazing awareness across key demographic groups.

3. Rotational Standing App
   Instead of rotational grazing (which raised logistical concerns), the flock will trial a rotational standing app. Sheep will be directed by the app to stand in different areas while discussing grass usage. We do not anticipate any material change to actual grazing behaviour at this time, though we do expect enhanced community engagement on the subject.

4. Alternative Grazing Exploration / Emotional Support Circle
   A small group will explore alternatives to Supergrass and associated coping mechanisms. Ideas may include tasting slightly tougher grass in lieu, as well as grass visualization exercises to calm the mind by remembering baa…ountiful grass from previous seasons. Safe grazing spaces and emotional reassurances will be offered to those in need.

5. Less Is More Initiative
   Sheep suggested positive and motivational signage such as “Put down the sheaf, fatty—that’s not going to make you look any thinner,” and “It’s not the wool making you look like a barrel; it’s your stomach.” After further consultation, it was decided that “Pause. Reflect. Graze anyway.” would be more measured and inviting of thoughtful reflection.

Coming next week:
Dilly the Duck sits down with Rodney the Ram for an intimate pondside interview on Supergrass decline, flock wellbeing, and whether “feeling better about it” is, in fact, a strategy.

Tune in next week—or don’t. The end is still nigh.

—Rodney the Ram

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