A village once hired a watchman to keep them safe from wolves. He took the role seriously. Each night, while the rest of the villagers slept, he walked the fence line with a lantern. With time he taught himself to spot what others would overlook: the impressions wolves left in soft soil, the hush of movement in brush, and the shallow stretches of river they often used to cross. As his skill grew, so did his intensity. What began as careful attention turned into constant searching. One night he noticed a snapped branch near the fence. “A wolf was here,” he said. The next night he found no tracks at all. “They’ve learned to hide their tracks,” he said. Another evening the chickens rustled and complained. “They can smell the wolves.” When the chickens stayed quiet the following night, his fear didn’t ease - it deepened. “The wolves have learned how to approach without frightening them.” The villagers pointed out that he hadn’t actually seen a wolf in months and suggested the pack might have moved on. He only shook his head. “That is exactly what they want us to think.” From then on, everything became proof to him. Evidence meant wolves. And so did the absence of evidence. If a chicken disappeared, it meant wolves. If a chicken returned, it meant the wolves had released it. A gap beneath the fence meant wolves had come through. An unbroken fence meant they’d found another way in. He stopped sleeping. He started drawing maps, connecting broken branches, footprints, missing tools, odd sounds, and the shifting patterns of birds. Strings began to cover his walls, tying one small incident to the next. To everyone else, the village felt quiet. To him, it had never been more dangerous. Then, one night, he saw two glowing eyes beyond the fence. “At last,” he whispered. He raised his bow and let an arrow fly. By morning the villagers learned what he had hit: and old lantern hanging at the far gate. Two pieces of glass had caught his own light and reflected it back to him. The old blacksmith bent down, lifted one of the shards, and faced the watchman. “You were once the best watchman we’ve ever had,” he said. “I still am,” replied the watchman. “That’s why I see what the rest of you cannot.” The blacksmith placed the shard in his hand. “No. Once you searched for wolves. Now you search for reasons to believe there are wolves.” The watchman looked into the glass. For the first time in years, the only thing staring back was himself. Then he finally understood: A man who doubts everything may believe himself impossible to deceive. But when every shadow becomes evidence, he no longer needs anyone else to deceive him. He can do it all by himself. @LexaproTrader , my brother in Crypto. Please seek help. 🫡 From the depths — The White Whale 🐋

Natural selection is a blind watchmaker, yet the forms it produces can be astonishingly beautiful. Ernst Haeckel captured that beauty in his extraordinary illustrations. They accompany my forthcoming book, 42 Tales from Life: A Modern Bestiary. Published this November, it tells 42 stories of the ingenious, curious and bizarre products of evolution. Waterstones is offering 25% off pre-orders with code SUMMER26 until Friday, 24 July.

If you know anyone looking for a good and fairly AI-proof career, watchmaker (= watch repairer) seems a promising one. Every watchmaker seems to have more work than he can handle, mechanical watches are increasingly popular, and it will be a while before AI does this.

Step inside Geneva Watch Days, where independent and contemporary watchmakers take centerstage. @allegracatelli has the highlights