There is a new sound in the cool back barn at Grandma Windward’s Beastiary this week, a soft wet patter like someone gently tapping a window from the inside, and it is the happiest sound in the Rolling Downs. A clutch of baby krakens came in on the tide cart at the start of the week, nine of them, each about the size of a good bread loaf, and Grandma Windward has them settled in the big glass tank by the north window.

I went to see them meaning to stay a polite quarter of an hour, and left an hour and a half later with my nose print on the glass beside everyone else’s. They are the most curious and beautiful little things. They change color when they are interested in you, going from a shy pebble gray to a startled coral pink to a deep contented plum, and when a child presses a hand flat to the glass a baby will drift over and lay its own small arms against it, matching the fingers one for one, as though comparing notes. Grandma Windward says they are cleverer than the griffin chicks and twice the trouble.

If you are bringing the little ones, and you should, there are only two rules, and Grandma Windward will tell you both at the door with great seriousness. You do not tap the glass, because a baby kraken startles easy and will ink the whole tank if you’re not careful, and you keep your voices to a hum. Beyond that you are free to stay as long as the queue behind you allows, which is not very long this week, so go early. She is letting the children of the Downs help settle on names, and there is a slate by the tank where you can chalk up a suggestion, though I will warn you that a four-year-old has already put forward “Mr. Legs” for one baby and it is winning by a wide margin.

Clementine Ferrow-Aldworth writes about food, family, and life in the Rolling Downs.