The Ornithologist's Field Guide to Love (Love's Academic, #1)

by India Holton

With that, he flicked open the parasol and engaged its propeller. Miss Pickering’s eyes widened, and Devon feared she might cry. Poor girl, so downtrodden by Hippolyta, so timid, she was no doubt— Er, actually, she was beating him with Hippolyta’s parasol. Having grabbed it from the older lady, she spared no effort in whacking Devon about the legs as he began to rise from the path.

you go girl

An ornithologist must be proficient in the three fundamentals of fieldwork: finding a bird, identifying a bird, and getting the hell away from that bird before it eats you. Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm

A wise woman allows nothing to ruffle her feathers; she is the ruffler of feathers. Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm

Taking another bite of sandwich, he muttered about dumb associates (or possibly “yum, opiates!” which might explain quite a bit).

LMAO

Villain, she reminded herself. Rival. Pretty, her heart replied with a sigh.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll submit, just this once. Go ahead and ask again.” “Knock knock.” She sighed. “Who’s there?” “Hoo.” “Hoo who?” “Why, Miss Pickering, I did not know you were an owl.”

The garden sparrow is as beautiful as the swan (although not as delicious when roasted). Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm

good to know

Why people—?! (That was the full extent of the sentence. Extroverts need not trouble themselves asking for an explanation.)

real

If it looks like a blackbird and sings like a blackbird, it might nevertheless grow sudden fangs and try to eat your face off. Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm

The wise ornithologist keeps her friends close and her enemies tied up somewhere they cannot trouble her. Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm

The adventuring woman should not just expect the unexpected, but be the unexpected. Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm

Devon felt inclined to keep running, but Beth pulled free of his grip and waved to the clerk. Devon lifted his gaze heavenward, seeking patience, but then turned and stood beside the angel he’d already been sent.

“Halt!” Oberhufter roared. “Halt!” Hippolyta added in English.

All any of us want, bird and birder, is the freedom to find our own skies, our own magic. Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm