The Adventures of Reza Shadey

Story 190: Reza Shadey and the Squirrel Science Solution

Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones.

Let me tell you about the morning Reza Shadey discovered that the great grey-versus-red squirrel argument had become rather silly.

Not because there was no real problem.

There was.

But because everyone seemed determined to argue about the squirrels instead of talking about the problem.

And Reza Shadey, naturally, decided that this required a major scientific intervention.

It was a bright morning in Catford.

Reza was sitting on the garden wall, his magnificent brown-and-black fur glowing in the sunshine. His emerald eyes were narrowed in deep thought, and his enormous fluffy tail was curled around his paws.

Below him, three grey squirrels were racing around the old oak tree.

Scurry!

Scramble!

Hop!

One disappeared behind the trunk.

Another popped out from the other side.

And Kevin, who had clearly forgotten where he was going, ran straight into a flowerpot.

BONK!

"Oof."

Reza watched carefully.

Yesterday, he had overheard Mrs Higgins on the phone.

She had been using the serious voice she reserved for broken boilers, important news and things that needed looking up.

"Squirrelpox... deadly to red squirrels... grey squirrels can carry it without becoming ill... and there's no vaccine..."

Reza's whiskers twitched.

A disease that could seriously harm one population.

A carrier that could carry the virus without appearing ill.

Competition for food.

Fear.

Arguments.

Reza's ears went up.

There was a problem here.

A real one.

His eyes narrowed.

"Interesting."

Penelope, who was washing one elegant white paw nearby, looked up.

"You've got that look, Rezzi."

"What look?"

"The one that means you're about to turn something into a business opportunity."

Reza considered this.

"Not necessarily."

Penelope waited.

Reza's tail twitched.

"Although I do have several thoughts."

"Of course you do."

Ginger Tom wandered over, yawning.

"Does it involve biscuits?"

"Eventually."

"Then I'm listening."

Reza leapt down from the wall and padded over to the oak tree.

"Nigel. Brenda. Kevin. A word."

Three grey faces appeared.

Nigel came down first, sturdy and slightly worried.

Brenda followed.

Kevin popped his head out, still rubbing his nose from the flowerpot incident.

Reza sat before them.

For once, he did not immediately make a speech.

Instead, he looked Nigel straight in the eye.

"Tell me something."

Nigel waited.

"Do you want the red squirrels to die?"

Nigel recoiled.

"What? No!"

He shook his head.

"Reza, why would I want that?"

"I don't know."

Reza glanced towards Penelope.

"I am investigating the situation."

"Tell me something else", continued Reza. "Are you trying to take over the country?"

Nigel frowned.

"I was born here. My mum slept in that hollow branch. My dad sat on that fence every morning for ten years."

Brenda nodded.

"My gran used to bury nuts under the rosebush. She knew every inch of this garden."

Kevin sniffed.

"I fell off that shed roof."

He paused.

"Twice."

Nigel sighed.

"We know."

Kevin looked towards the shed.

"It's my shed."

"It's Mrs Higgins's shed."

"I've got seniority."

Reza ignored this.

"So you don't think of yourselves as invaders?"

Nigel stared at him.

"Invaders?"

He looked around the garden.

"We just... live here."

He glanced up at the oak.

"We don't wake up thinking about red squirrels."

Brenda nodded.

"We think about food."

Kevin nodded vigorously.

"And roofs."

Nigel sighed.

"And avoiding Kevin."

"Oi."

Reza's expression softened.

"You don't want to hurt anyone?"

"Of course not."

"You don't even know you're carrying anything?"

Nigel shook his head.

"It's not our fault."

Reza sat very still.

His tail gave one thoughtful swish.

Then another.

Penelope watched him carefully.

Something unusual was happening.

Reza was thinking.

Properly thinking.

At last, he stood.

"That", he announced, "is the most important thing anyone has said all week."

Penelope blinked.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Reza turned towards the others.

"The problem isn't that grey squirrels are secretly plotting against red squirrels."

Nigel nodded.

"The problem isn't that red squirrels are secretly plotting against grey squirrels."

Brenda nodded too.

"And the problem certainly isn't that one colour of squirrel is morally superior to another."

He shuddered.

"We do not need a squirrel league table."

Tiger came bouncing across the lawn.

"No league table?"

"No."

"But I had posters ready!"

Tiger produced a piece of cardboard.

On it was written:

GREY VS RED

Underneath, in enormous letters:

WHO WINS?

Reza stared at it.

Tiger grinned.

"I was going to add voting buttons."

"No."

"Popularity ranking?"

"No."

"Best tail?"

"Absolutely not."

Tiger lowered the cardboard.

"Okay."

Reza took a deep breath.

"Cancel the squirrel rebrand."

Tiger looked surprised.

"We were rebranding them?"

"We are not rebranding them."

He pointed towards Nigel.

"We are not calling him an Invader."

He pointed towards Brenda.

"We are not calling her a Villain."

He pointed towards Kevin.

"And we are certainly not calling him a Peanut Criminal."

Kevin looked offended.

"I've never been convicted."

"That is not the point."

Reza paced slowly.

"The squirrels are squirrels."

Penelope smiled.

"Good."

"The virus is the problem."

"Better."

"Competition may also be part of the problem."

"Yes."

"And therefore..."

Reza's eyes began to shine.

Penelope sighed.

"Here we go."

"...we investigate the actual problem."

Ginger Tom scratched his chin.

"That sounds almost sensible."

"Thank you."

"I wasn't complimenting you."

"I've chosen to interpret it positively."

Reza sprang onto an overturned flowerpot.

"We are moving into science."

Kevin looked worried.

"Does that mean no peanuts?"

"It means", Reza declared, "that we need to understand what is happening before we start blaming anything."

Tiger's eyes widened.

"That's actually kind of deep."

"I prefer 'strategically profound'."

Reza grabbed a piece of cardboard.

He dipped one paw into some mud.

Across the cardboard he wrote:

PROJECT SQUIRREL

Then underneath:

WHAT IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING?

He paused.

Then added:

FIND OUT BEFORE SHOUTING.

Penelope read it.

"That's quite good, Rezzi."

Reza looked pleased.

"I know."

Ginger Tom peered over her shoulder.

"Needs biscuits."

"Why?"

"Morale."

Reza considered this.

"Approved."

And so Project Squirrel began.

Not a campaign against grey squirrels.

Not a campaign against red squirrels.

Not even a campaign for one side or the other.

It was, Reza explained, a campaign against jumping to conclusions.

Nigel volunteered to observe what happened around the oak tree.

Brenda kept an eye on the garden and reported anything unusual.

Kevin was appointed Head of Peanut Logistics.

Nobody was entirely sure why.

But Kevin was delighted.

Tiger became Chief Poster Officer.

This was a mistake.

His first poster said:

SQUIRRELS: LET'S NOT BE WEIRD ABOUT IT.

Reza stared at it.

"Hmm."

Tiger bounced.

"Too much?"

"No."

Reza thought about it.

"Actually, keep it."

Tiger beamed.

His second poster said:

ASK QUESTIONS. DON'T JUST YELL.

Penelope nodded.

"That one can stay too."

His third said:

PEANUTS FOR SCIENCE.

Penelope crossed it out.

Kevin looked wounded.

"It was worth a try."

Reza's little research team soon became very busy.

Nigel watched the oak tree.

Brenda watched the garden.

Kevin counted peanuts.

"Twenty-three."

Reza looked up from his cardboard clipboard.

"Twenty-three what?"

"Peanuts."

"Why?"

"Data."

"Data for what?"

Kevin thought about it.

"I don't know yet."

Reza nodded solemnly.

"Excellent scientific instinct."

Tiger chased Kevin up the oak tree while pretending to film a research documentary with a stick.

"Day three of the investigation", he announced.

Kevin leapt for a branch.

Missed.

And landed straight in the compost heap.

THUMP!

A small grey face appeared through the leaves.

"Research is difficult."

Reza nodded.

"Excellent."

Tiger grinned.

"Authentic struggle content."

Penelope looked at Reza.

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"I am building a scientific culture."

"You've got a cardboard box."

"A scientific cardboard box."

"Fair enough."

Later that afternoon, Mrs Higgins appeared at the back door with her tea.

She stopped.

There was Reza on the flowerpot.

Penelope beside the cardboard.

Tiger holding a stick.

Nigel and Brenda sitting beneath the oak.

Kevin covered in compost.

And a large sign leaning against the shed.

PROJECT SQUIRREL

Mrs Higgins blinked.

"Oh, Reza."

She smiled.

"What have you done now?"

Reza trotted over.

"Mrs Higgins. Excellent timing."

He gestured grandly towards the garden.

"We are investigating squirrelpox."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"With that?"

She pointed at the cardboard.

"Yes."

Mrs Higgins looked at the muddy pawprints.

"And that?"

"Field data."

She looked at Kevin.

Kevin gave her a solemn nod.

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three what?"

"Peanuts."

Mrs Higgins smiled.

"I see."

Reza puffed out his chest.

"We have rejected the idea that grey squirrels are villains."

Mrs Higgins nodded.

"We have rejected the idea that red squirrels are the problem."

She nodded again.

"And we have rejected the highly unscientific practice of choosing a favourite squirrel based purely on colour."

Tiger raised a paw.

"What about favourite squirrel based on vibes?"

"Also rejected", said Penelope.

Tiger lowered his paw.

"Fair."

Mrs Higgins looked at Reza.

"And what exactly are you going to do about squirrelpox?"

Reza paused.

For once, he didn't immediately have an answer.

He looked at Nigel.

Then Brenda.

Then the cardboard.

Then his muddy paw.

Finally he said:

"We need people who understand viruses."

Mrs Higgins smiled.

"That's right."

"People with laboratories."

"Yes."

"People who know what they're doing."

"Definitely."

Reza nodded thoughtfully.

"Excellent."

Mrs Higgins raised an eyebrow.

"Excellent?"

"Yes."

Reza turned to the others.

"We have identified the next stage."

Penelope smiled.

"Which is?"

"Finding actual scientists."

Ginger Tom yawned.

"That sounds like work."

"Correct."

"Are you doing it?"

Reza looked offended.

"I shall be providing strategic leadership."

"Meaning?"

"I'll be available for consultation."

"From where?"

Reza looked around.

He spotted a warm patch of sunshine beside the kitchen door.

"From there."

Penelope laughed.

"Of course."

But Reza wasn't finished.

He climbed onto the cardboard box and addressed the squirrels.

"Listen carefully."

Nigel and Brenda looked up.

"You are not bad squirrels."

Nigel blinked.

Brenda smiled.

"You are not good squirrels either."

Kevin frowned.

"What about me?"

"You are complicated."

Kevin nodded.

"Fair."

Reza continued.

"You are squirrels."

He raised one paw.

"And if there is a problem involving a virus, competition or anything else, we should investigate the problem itself."

Another paw.

"Not invent a villain."

Penelope nodded.

"That's a very good principle, Rezzi."

Reza's chest swelled.

"Naturally."

Tiger raised his paw.

"Can we put that on a poster?"

"Yes."

Tiger immediately began writing.

DON'T INVENT A VILLAIN.

He looked at Reza.

"How big?"

"Very."

"How big is very?"

"Strategically enormous."

Tiger grinned.

"Bet."

That evening, after a splendid bowl of chicken pâté, Reza curled up on the warm tiles.

The garden was quiet.

The grey squirrels were settling into their nests.

Reza yawned.

He had not solved squirrelpox.

He had not invented a vaccine.

He had not settled every ecological question in Britain.

But he had discovered something important.

Sometimes the cleverest answer isn't deciding who is better.

Sometimes it is looking at the actual problem and asking whether there is a practical way to make things better.

Reza closed his eyes.

"Although", he murmured sleepily, "I still think the vaccine should come in a peanut flavour."

From the oak came Kevin's sleepy voice.

"Now you're talking."

Reza smiled.

And drifted off to sleep.

Night night. Sleep tight.