Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 12: You’re Just Deciding How
FINN
His mother gave her assessment over breakfast the next morning.
He had come to the communal kitchen at seven, which was when he usually came, and found her at the table with her tea and the expression of someone who had been thinking since the dinner ended.
She said: “She’s going to find out. You’re just deciding how.”
He said: “Good morning.”
She said: “She asked what I do when I find something that doesn’t resolve. I told her I stay until it does.” She paused. “That’s not a question, by the way. That’s what she said.”
He sat down.
He said: “She has forty-four from the outer face count and she’s running deduplication analysis. She knows the population is larger than the database figure.”
His mother said: “A larger population count is not the problem.”
He said: “I know.”
She said: “She said: the birds are being protected. She asked: by whom.”
He looked at her.
She said: “She said it to me directly, yes. Not as a question — as a conclusion she’d reached and was telling me about.”
He said: “When.”
She said: “After dinner. At the window.” She drank her tea. “She’s not going to be redirected by the accessible positions and the boat route and the fish catch data, Finn. She came for the anomalies.”
He said: “I know.”
She said: “Your eagle has been certain since she arrived.”
He said: “My eagle’s opinion of the situation is not relevant to the management question.”
His mother looked at him.
He said: “She’s a researcher. She’s here for three weeks. She’s going to write a paper that either explains the population data or raises further questions, and then she’s going to go back to her university.”
His mother said: “Is she.”
He said: “That’s what researchers do.”
His mother said: “The last researcher left satisfied in four days.”
He said: “Yes.”
She said: “This one stayed for dinner, asked twelve people about the community’s history, took notes on the way home, and told me the birds are being protected as a conclusion she’d already reached.” She set down her tea. “What do you think is going to happen?”
He said: “I think she’s going to ask the right questions and I’m going to need to manage what happens when she asks them.”
His mother said: “You are spending time with her because your eagle wants to be near her, calling it management, and doing a version of the same thing you’ve done for ten years but with significantly more personal investment. Call it what it is.”
He said: “It’s tier two management.”
She said: “Finn.”
He said: “What would you have me do? Tell her? The first week? She came with monitoring equipment and a federal survey remit.”
His mother said: “I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m telling you what’s happening so that you have accurate information.” She stood and brought her cup to the sink. “She said the birds are safe here. She didn’t ask why. She said it the way you say something when you’ve decided you’re not a threat to it.”
He said: “She could change her mind.”
His mother said: “She could. But she hasn’t.” She looked at him. “You moved her camera yourself. You went in person, at midnight, with a torch, and repositioned it. You could have sent Davo. You could have let it record and dealt with whatever it captured. You went yourself.”
He said: “I needed to know it was done correctly.”
She said: “You went because your eagle wanted a reason to go.”
He said nothing.
She said: “I’m not criticizing. I’m telling you what’s actually happening so that you can decide what you’re actually doing.” She picked up her papers. “The clan’s position is that you’re the liaison and you manage researcher visits. You’ve been doing it for ten years and you’ve managed well. But the clan meeting on Tuesday said tier two and what you’re running is not tier two.”
He said: “What would you call it.”
She said: “Something that needs a name you haven’t given it yet.”
She went to her study.
He sat at the kitchen table for a while.
He thought about the camera trap on the north path, repositioned at midnight because he needed to know it was done correctly. He thought about the afternoon that had extended to six-fifteen. He thought about the fish catch data he’d organized and the south bay overlook position and the boat access on Thursday, and the way she’d braced on the boat with the easy competence of someone who knew how to move on water.
He thought about forty-four on the outer face and a deduplication analysis that was going to take her a day and would produce a population count higher than the database and a further set of questions that would lead, eventually, to the upper headland.
He thought about the upper headland and the clan territory records in the rock face behind the lighthouse, buried for sixty years, accessible only by the path he’d told her was unmaintained.
He thought: *she saw the path. She knows it’s maintained.*
He thought: *she is going to get to the upper headland.*
His eagle thought: *yes. And then?*
He thought: *and then she’ll have the photographs and she’ll bring them to me and I’ll need to decide.*
His eagle thought: *you’ve already decided.*
He thought: *I’ve decided nothing.*
His eagle had the amused quality that it had been directing at him for a week.
He stood up.
He went to find Cal, who was at the lighthouse doing the morning equipment check.
He said: “I need to tell you something.”
Cal said: “Is it about the researcher?”
He said: “It’s about the researcher.”
Cal set down the equipment log and gave him his full attention.
Finn said: “She’s going to get to the upper headland.”
Cal said: “I know.”
He said: “And when she gets there, she’s going to find the exposed section of the territory record.”
Cal said: “I know.”
He said: “I’m going to have to make a decision about what to do when she finds it.”
Cal said: “I know.”
He said: “I don’t have that decision made yet.”
Cal looked at him.
He said, carefully: “Are you sure about that?”
Finn said: “I’m sure.”
Cal said: “Okay.” He picked up the equipment log. “For what it’s worth, she told Lena at dinner that she thinks the community has something worth protecting and she’d like to understand it before she writes anything.” He paused. “Lena told me this morning.”
Finn said: “She said that to Lena.”
Cal said: “Over the dishes. They were washing up together.” He shrugged. “Lena finds her easy to talk to.”
Finn stood at the lighthouse window and looked out at the research cottage, where the light was on and she was presumably running the deduplication analysis on last Thursday’s data, building toward the count that would tell her the population was bigger than anyone had officially documented.
He thought: *she said she’d like to understand it before she writes anything.*
He thought: *that’s a specific thing to say to Lena over the dishes.*
He thought: *she knows we’re watching. She told us something she wanted us to know.*
His eagle was no longer amused. It was the attention of something that had been certain for a week and was now paying close attention to what came next.
He thought: *I need to be there when she finds the rock face.*
He thought: *I need to be the one she brings the photographs to.*
He said: “If she goes to the upper headland path, call me immediately.”
Cal said: “Of course.”
He went back down to the cottage.
She was at the table with the deduplication data spread across three notebooks.
She looked up.
She said: “Forty-six. I’ve confirmed forty-six distinct individuals across all survey positions.”
He said: “That’s above the database figure.”
She said: “By five.” She looked at him. “The database undercounts the population.”
He said: “The accessible positions miss the outer face individuals.”
She said: “Yes.” She looked at her notes. “I’m going to need to revise the database figure when I submit my survey report.”
He said: “That makes sense.”
She said: “And then I’m going to need to understand why the revised population of forty-six shows zero mortality in six survey years.”
He said: “Exceptional habitat.”
She said: “Exceptional habitat.”
He said: “And prey base.”
She said: “And prey base.”
She looked at him.
He looked at her.
She said: “Tell me about the upper headland path.”
He said: “Early next week.”
She wrote something in her notebook.
He thought: *she’s writing: early next week.*
She said: “Monday?”
He said: “Monday is good.”
She said: “I’ll be ready at eight.”
He went back to the lighthouse.
He thought: *I have from now until Monday.*
He thought: *to decide what I’m actually doing.*
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