Swamped

"It looked like he was tapping one on its beak. I've got no idea what that's supposed to accomplish, but then, he's supposedly the animal expert."

He seems somewhat bitter.

"What exactly is the problem you're having with sandy-mockers?"

"Nothing big. It's just that for some reason, they seem to have singled out this tent to relieve themselves on. Which means I lose at least a good half-hour each day cleaning it off. If he can do something about it, well, it'd mean I've got more time to do other, more useful things."

"Like spending time with your children?"

He doesn't say anything in response. You decide to change the subject.

"I'd like to talk to Rider when he has a moment."

"Well, I've got no idea how long this is going to take him, but I'd rather not interrupt it. Just in case it works. He'll tell me when he's done, so feel free to catch him at that point."

With that, he sits down and just stops talking. He doesn't seem to be doing anything in particular.

Now what?