“Exactly.”
Her brother looked toward her column.
“Yours improved.”
“Yes.”
“Not a little.”
“No.”
He stared.
“Dad needs to see this.”
Her father came in fifteen minutes later.
The Farm Woman placed the report in front of him.
He read quietly.
Then removed his glasses.
“Which one is ours?”
She pointed.
He studied it again.
Then:
“Chickens.”
The Farm Woman smiled.
“Partly.”
Her father looked toward her.
“Don’t get humble now.”
“I’m not.”
“I just don’t want to claim everything is chickens.”
“The cover residue changed.”
“We changed traffic.”
“We adjusted fertility.”
“The birds are one part.”
Her father nodded.
“That’s why I trust you.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“If this worked and you came in here saying you’d solved agriculture with chickens, I’d sell them tomorrow.”
The Farm Woman laughed.
Her father pushed the report back.
“What are you going to tell the neighbors?”
“Nothing.”
Her brother nearly dropped his coffee.
“What?”
She looked toward him.
“They’ll ask.”
“They won’t.”
“They absolutely will.”
The Farm Woman folded the report.
“I’m not chasing them down.”
Her brother stared.
“This is the best day of my life and you’re ruining it.”
Her father smiled.
“Let the results travel.”
They did.
By noon, the county agronomist had called the neighboring farmer.
At 2:00, a pickup appeared at the end of the field.
Then another.
Then another.
The Farm Woman saw them from between the corn rows.
Same three farmers.
None laughing yet.
She continued working.
They climbed out.
The oldest shouted:
“Got your report?”
The Farm Woman looked over.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
She returned to adjusting a water line.
“Well what?”
The farmer frowned.
“You know what.”
She straightened.
“Come over.”
The men approached the fence.
The Farm Woman carried the folded report with her.
Behind her, chickens scratched through residue.
One grabbed a beetle.
Another kicked soil backward with both feet.
The farmers looked at them.
Then at her.
The first farmer smiled again.
“So?”
The Farm Woman set the report on the hood of their pickup.
“You tell me.”
He picked it up.
The others leaned in.
Field A.
Field B.
Field C.
The farmer scanned values.
“Which is yours?”
The Farm Woman did not answer.
He read aloud.
“Organic matter.”
“Bulk density.”
“Respiration.”
“Available nitrogen.”
One friend pointed.
“B’s got plenty of nitrate.”
The Farm Woman nodded.