Johnny loved birds. He spent hours watching them flit around his garden, identifying them with his trusty bird book. He even fancied himself a bit of a bird mathematician. One sunny afternoon, Mrs. Higgins, his rather eccentric neighbour, caught him staring intently at the bird feeder.
“Whatcha up to, Johnny?” she chirped, adjusting her enormous, flowered hat.
Johnny puffed out his chest. “I’m conducting a bird census, Mrs. Higgins! Applied avian arithmetic!”
Mrs. Higgins, whose knowledge of arithmetic peaked at counting her cats (she had seven), was suitably impressed. “Oh, fancy that! How’s it going?”
Johnny furrowed his brow. “Well, this is where it gets tricky. See, there were three sparrows, then two robins landed. After that, a very aggressive pigeon chased them all away. And then…and then a squirrel showed up!”
Mrs. Higgins leaned in, captivated. “A squirrel! Oh dear! What does the squirrel do to your bird math?”
Johnny tapped his chin. “That’s the problem! According to my calculations… three sparrows plus two robins, minus the pigeon equals… well, it equals… a very confused squirrel!” He paused, deep in thought. “And I think I’ve discovered a new theorem: one squirrel is approximately equal to negative five birds. They just seem so…disappointed when it’s there eating all the seeds.”
Mrs. Higgins tilted her head. “Hmm, that sounds…complicated.”
Just then, a large crow swooped down, snatched a sunflower seed from the feeder, and flew off. Johnny gasped.
“Oh no! That messes everything up! Now I have to factor in the crow’s air speed velocity, and the seed’s nutritional value, and…and…oh bother! Bird math is impossible!” He threw his hands up in the air.
Mrs. Higgins patted his arm. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ve got a better way to count. Just throw out a handful of seeds and see how many cats show up. That’s real math!”
