From the Correspondence Cabinet of Virgil Twobyfour

To Young Sir David Attenborough, Explorer of Beasts and Whisperer of Frogs

Dear Young Sir David,

First and foremost: Many Happy Returns! I understand you’ve had another birthday of some considerable magnitude (though still several furlongs behind me, age-wise — I’ve outlived several calendar systems, two timekeeping monks, and once accidentally became Pope in a card game. But enough about me).

I write with some urgency regarding the sparrow in my chimney. He has, over the course of several weeks and with no formal tuition, learned to mimic the phrases:

“Tea’s on, Gerald.”

“The Council will never approve it.”

And (most disturbingly), “All hail the Root Emperor.”

I fear this is either a remarkable step forward in avian evolution, or a mild haunting. You, being no stranger to charismatic wildlife and regional poltergeists, seemed the natural person to consult.

Also: the badgers have been lining up. Not gathering — lining up. Along the fence at twilight. All facing west. They do not blink. Have you encountered similar behaviour in marsupials, or perhaps retired actors?

I enclose:

1. A detailed sketch of the sparrow (I’ve drawn it life-sized; please do not mistake this for a dead sparrow — it is only biro).

2. A mushroom of unusual temperament. (Handle with cloves.)

3. A flyer for our upcoming Argyle Fauna and Fungus Fair — we’d be honoured if you’d attend or send a wax replica.

Lastly, would you be at all interested in borrowing my personal archive of Sulphurous Mushrooms I Have Known (vol. I–VII, plus the forbidden Addendum)? They’ve been slightly chewed but remain potent. Ethel Grimweather claims one of them caused her shed to emit the Gregorian chant for three days, but Ethel is prone to exaggeration. It was more like two and a half.

I remain, as ever,
Your humble correspondent in the shrubbier sciences,

Virgil Twobyfour
(Mr., Shwami, Collector of Unexplained Eggs)
Back of the Allotments,
3rd Potting Shed on the Left
[If you reach the scarecrow that judges you, you’ve gone too far.]

P.S. If you ever fancy popping by for tea, bring your own stool and a willingness to discuss eels with motives.