April Fool by William Deverell Page A

nincompoop.”
    Prudhomme struggles to pick up where he left off. “As I was saying…”
    â€œBefore you say what you were saying, what if the eagles raise a family in that tree? That’s their only argument that I can see.” Santorini is cranky. “You can’t do in their nest.”
    â€œMilord, we’ve done helicopter searches, dozens of passes over two days, and no eagle has been seen in that tree. There’s an old nest, but it has been without tenants for years. I think you’ll find the relevant material in affidavit J.”
    Selwyn stands. “Surely, the nest is protected under section 34 even if it has been abandoned for a decade…”
    â€œMr. Loo, we already had that argument, and I’m against you. It’s absurd to think a valuable timber tree can’t be harvested because there’s an old, falling-apart nest in it. No, I’ll need some proof it’s a viable nest. Eggs, Mr. Loo, I need to see eggs.”
    â€œThe eggs might come along a lot sooner, milord, if we put a stop to these so-called aerial searches, which seem intended to scare the eagles away. Has your Lordship had a chance to look at the counter-petition filed this morning?”
    Santorini is not on top of things, and shuffles through his file. “Counter…Yes, let’s see, you want to restrain these flights–why? They’re just bird-watching, in a manner of speaking.”
    â€œBecause it’s not a search, it’s deliberate harassment of eagles to prevent them from nesting.”
    Santorini frowns over the Wildlife Act, then turns again to Prudhomme. “Why is this tree such a bother? Can’t they go in some other way? Over the hill?”
    â€œIf your Lordship will look at the topographical map, appended to Exhibit M, you will see what an imposing task that is. According to the engineer’s report, it’s hugely expensive and would be environmentally destructive.”
    â€œAnd we wouldn’t want that.” Selwyn’s barbed tone. Arthur wonders how long he’s been without sight–has he ever seen nature in her glory? He tries to imagine absorbing beauty through other, enhanced senses, the chatter of wrens, the smell of the humid forest, the feel of a fern leaf.
    â€œWhat about going in by barge from the ocean,” Santorini says. “At least until after nesting season. Or have you thought of helicopter logging? I know something about this, I worked on a few logging crews in my time, summer jobs–I didn’t get my degree handed on a silver platter.”
    Prudhomme explains politely how each of these helpful hints, in turn, are prohibitively dear.
    â€œWhat about this business with all the air traffic around the nest, they say you’re trying to scare the eagles.” He abruptly focuses on Arthur. “What’s your position, Mr. Beauchamp?”
    â€œI would be delighted to state my position were I counsel, milord. However–happily for the defendants–I’m not.” But he cannot resist: “The rule, as your Lordship is abundantly aware, is that the applicant must come to court with clean hands.”
    â€œAre you asking me to assume they’re trying to forcibly evict a bird?”
    â€œA pair of them. I can attest to having seen them, in fact. As my affidavit indicates, they were showing the typical indicia of being in love.”
    â€œDidn’t know you were such an expert, Arthur.”
    â€œIn birds or love?”
    Poorly smothered laughter from Lotis Rudnicki. Maybe she thinks it’s absurd that this old gaffer might be an expert on love.Proving she’s capable of the sin of compromise, at least in a courtroom, there’s no lip ring, no gel in the hair.
    Santorini is chuckling too. “Well, the real question is whether those eagles are nesting there or not. I’m going to adjourn this for a couple of days. I want a sighting–not just an eagle, a