Too Cold For Snow

that seemed to throw all the animals to one side, a freak wave threatened to overturn the craft. A mighty ram, bellowing hoarsely with fear, scrabbled to get over the side and it coincided with the craft being low in the water. Over went the animal. Kenny only just managed to get his hands to its fleece but as the animal’s pelt absorbed seawater it became lethally heavy and pulled Kenny in behind it. The shock and force of the water took his breath away. The ram bellowed once more in fear before it sunk towards the lobsters. It all happened so swiftly but as the waters carried him away at five knots, away from a landing craft that was itself chugging away from him towards Aberdaron at a rate of some five knots, he still felt naked terror. He felt himself diminish out of sight as the cold of the water tore into his torso.
    Twm raised the alarm and the craft turned slowly. Kenny was learning to tread water for life itself. The craft, with its cargo of agitated animals, ploughed against cross currents to gain on the bobbing form of the lad. He was losing the fight now and he could hear voices from his past mixing with the surge of the water. He bobbed under, once, twice, the salt water alive with desire, wanting to fill up his lungs like balloons. When they got close enough Ifor snagged him with a fishing gaff he normally reserved for bringing in tope. It was only afterward that the old bugger confided that he could easily have decapitated Kenny as he swung the big shark hook towards his shoulders. Luckily it caught in his shirt collar and, by dint of the two men heaving with all their might, they pulled him in and upwards so he could catch hold of the tires draped along the hull. Kenny vomited over an ewe and, as they turned once more for Porth Meudwy and the white houses of Aberdaron, he kept on vomiting. He had never liked sheep.
     
    August meandered to a close in a flurry of squalls and dramatic storms with fork lightning spearing the sea like tridents. Ryan had gone on a busman’s holiday to do some bird-watching on the Coto Donana and had left his two assistants in charge. They only had a couple of visitors staying in Cristin for the last week of the month and they were two Californian girls, called Karen and Sharon. They were glamorous stoners, so laid back they were almost laid out, smoking pot all day right up to the point in the evening when everyone convened in the Observatory to compile the species log for the day.
    Kenny and Twm were astonished they managed to remember who they were or where they were, let alone amass the impressive tally. The girls found a woodchat shrike and an icterine warbler in the same bush: an avian double whammy.
    Twm and Kenny were pleased beyond measure to see them both, as they were both new species for them. That they were spotted by two attractive young women – taking a year out before heading for prestigious universities – was a bonus. The four of them flirted outrageously and for Kenny, who had never been anywhere further than Carlisle, Karen and Sharon were as exotic as shrikes. Karen made Kenny’s heart speed up. She had eyes that flashed with wickedness and merriment and he loved her fit body with tanned legs and lithe thighs. But the lasses were only booked in for a week. On the day they left in the Good Shepherd, Kenny felt a pang of hollowness. He would miss Karen’s smile and the green tang of Moroccan hashish that trailed behind her everywhere. Just before she left the island he’d teased her to be careful going through customs in Aberdaron. For a fraction of a second she believed him, which made the two of them laugh. Kenny watched the boat diminish to vanishing point. He’d hoped for a kiss.
    The weather harshened and blustered throughout September. But with the inclemency of the weather came astonishing night-time spectacles as birds in their thousands were attracted to the lighthouse beams. Floodlights illuminated a patch of ground near the base of the lighthouse designed to stop birds pulverising themselves against the glass and in most weathers it worked. But when the storms whipped in or a cloying mist swirled around the light the birds would sometimes just fly straight in to the glass and brain themselves, falling stunned to shiver and die at the base of the structure.
    It also attracted more rare birds to the island. One night it attracted a river warbler, which wasn’t much to look at but Kenny remembered it was one of the things Karen was most