“The locals call it Little John,” Beth said, clutching at ornithology to keep her steady. “It’s the only one of its kind remaining and is too old now to endanger livestock. Professor Gladstone pays the farmers an annual stipend to not shoot it so he can come every summer to work on a longitudinal study of it.” “Where is his house?” Devon asked, entirely casual, but with a sidelong glance at her that conveyed, I want to do a longitudinal study of your body. Beth swallowed dryly. “About half a mile west of the village.”
