Robin is out in the plumab orchard, hanging upside-down off a branch and plucking its fruits to drop in a basket below. He doesn't, strictly speaking, need to be hanging upside down, but the most recent Terrible Proclamation had ordered that all work should be performed upside down in order to take advantage of the head rush, thus speeding the work up, and every so often he likes to try out the new laws.

It's nonsense, but it's fun, so why not?

He drops a few more ripe plumabs into the basket, plop plop plop, and then pulls himself up to relax on the branch, holding on tightly and blinking as the blood rushes out of his head. Once he's got his bearings back, he looks out over the orchard contently, idly peeling a fruit for a quick mid-morning snack.