When the magpies warbled Finn knew it was spring. The parents had left the nest and the new baby bird was taking its first tentative steps. He sat on the porch surveying the scene. The firebreak was cleared, and the apple and pear trees were loaded with blossom. The tractor needed some work, but it always needed some work. He sighed. There was an article to write for Farmer’s Monthly and his book to complete. Finn sometimes wondered how he had drifted into the cul-de-sac of rural journalism. He was no farmer and little better as a journalist. He supposed…