Cormorant

                                         EXTRACT ONE
     Stephen mounted the caravan steps warily. A strand of blond hair, bleached by the past summer’s sun, hung down in a half curl on the five-year-old’s forehead. He moved quietly, furtively, looking round, anxious neither Christopher nor Sharon should see him enter.
     His parents were seated at the table, not discussing anything particular, just idle conversation, relaxing together, watching small white clouds scud across the evening sky. Jan had noticed Stephen’s approach. Something about the way he moved caught her attention. Several times the little lad had

The bridge over the Hayle river and trout below.

glanced over one shoulder, keeping close to the bushes as if trying to approach in secret. His left hand was held close to the body, palm upward, fingers curled over concealing something from sight. Whatever the object might be, he held it with great care. Alive perhaps?
She waited, intrigued. The caravan door opened a crack, then swung aside. A little head peeped round, hesitating, checking inside....... ? -Extract ends-

How many people have their
own bridge? At last the low parapets are in place, the water below amazingly clear as two people throw bread to the trout.
But there is still no other way
a car can enter of leave
the valley.

Don’t be fooled. Birds and other creatures are not the main part of this novel, they just take the best photos. The fun and danger of making a new life under somewhat primitive conditions, alone in the valley - that is the main theme.

Cormorants get too tame too quickly, they are difficult to get rid of - and not only that, they have peculiar tastes. Leave that ear alone!

                                                                                EXTRACT TWO
     Jan snatched the camera before he could pick it up, making him join the group, cormorant on one arm.
    "Smile please!"
    The bird, either startled by the voice, or mistaking the sudden flash of many teeth as an intention to eat it, chose that moment to take flight within the close confines of the caravan. Flinching from suddenly flapping wings, all eyes closed at the exact second the camera clicked. With nowhere to go, and a wing span not much less that a third of the narrow room’s width, the cormorant somehow managed to land on the back of an armchair. Since this chair nestled tightly against a wall, it was unable to achieve a balance, and hung on, wings flapping wildly. As Jan, still holding the camera, stepped back in surprise.....      ?

This is the 2nd book  House by the Stream.                             Home page                                    Page 2 of 5
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