And so Algy paddled away into the sunset, in search of a gently sloping sandy beach which would provide a soft, safe landing place. As he paddled, he thought of some lines from a famous poem by Tennyson:

          The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
          The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
          Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
          ‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
          Push off, and sitting well in order smite
          the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
          To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
          Of all the western stars, until I die.
          It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
          It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles

[Algy is quoting part of the poem Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.]


Algy understands that many of his American friends celebrate something called Thanksgiving today, and they take the opportunity to consider those things for which they are thankful.

After his excited splash in the sea, Algy very prudently clambered back up onto his lobster pot float, and began to paddle again. As the rays of the sinking sun lit up the water around him, Algy felt truly thankful for just being alive, for being surrounded by the amazing beauty of nature, and above all for being able to share his adventures with all of you. Thank you all so much for making this possible – and a very Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate today xx

Yippppeeeeeeeeee!  Algy is on Tumblr Radar today!

Algy was beginning to feel a wee bit downhearted, having been trying to paddle his float away from the rocks for some time, when suddenly a Storm petrel swept by. “One of your adventures is on Tumblr Radar!” it cried, as it passed overhead.

Algy couldn’t believe it. He never dreamed that his adventures would be noticed by the Tumblr gods. Completely flabbergasted and amazed, Algy threw all caution to the winds and leaped into the sea to splash about wildly with joy!

Algy wants to thank the mysterious Tumblr gods and all the people who have been so kind as to follow, “like” or reblog his adventures on Tumblr. He sends a happy welcome to the hundreds of new followers he has acquired today, and very special thanks to those loyal followers and friends who have been supporting him over the past year. Thank you – Algy loves you all 🙂  xx

[The adventure which appeared on the Radar is this one by a trickling burn.]

The sea was providing Algy with an exciting rollercoaster ride – perhaps just a wee bit too exciting. But he was managing to avoid the rocks, and he could see that the storm was subsiding and the sky was beginning to clear. Ever the optimist, Algy felt confident that things would be sure to improve very soon …

Algy’s feathers were drenched and heavy with salt; he knew that it would be quite impossible for him to fly. So with a big effort he pulled himself out of the water, and on to the top of the rocking lobster pot float. The rocks were perilously close and he couldn’t risk being swept against them, so he started to paddle vigorously with his wings. Algy is a bird not easily daunted, so to keep his spirts up and block out the sound of the dangerous surf, he started to sing his favourite sea shanty, Hieland Laddie, at the top of his voice:

          Was you ever in Quebec?
          Bonny laddie, Hieland laddie,
          Stowing timber on the deck,
          Bonny Hieland laddie.
          Hey ho, and away we go,
          Bonny laddie, Hieland laddie,
          Hey ho, and away we go,
          Bonny Hieland laddie.

[Algy suggests you listen to this fine version by Matthew Vaughan. The song starts about one minute in, with an introduction by Matthew first.]

Algy tried to escape the massive wave, but it was too fast for him. It swept him high up into the air, and down again into the middle of the stormy sea. Luckily for Algy, a lobster pot float had broken loose in the gale, and was bobbing about on the waves just in front of him. He quickly grabbed hold of its broken cable with his beak, and held on as tightly as he could …

The storm raged on, and Algy clung onto the rocks. The wind was too strong to try flying to a safer place …

Algy dedicates this post especially to all those who have never seen the ocean raging on the rocks, or who love the sea but live far away from it – and in particular to Mitch who asked for a GIF 🙂

During the night a northerly gale sprang up and a sudden gust caught Algy, sweeping him high into the air. As he raced on the wind across the headland, Algy could see the sea approaching rapidly on all sides, so with a great effort he dropped down to the ground before it was too late. In a West Highland gale it is perilous on the rocks, even for a bird, but not as dangerous as it would be over the ocean. Algy clung tightly to a rocky ledge as the pounding waves sprayed him with salty foam. As he stared out to sea through the spray, he spotted a small boat battling the waves, so for the sake of all the sailors who were out in the gale he quietly hummed their own special hymn, in the hope that it might help them weather the storm:

          Eternal Father, strong to save,
          Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
          Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep
          Its own appointed limits keep;
          Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
          For those in peril on the sea!

The wind was beginning to blow with some vigour, so Algy tucked himself down among the long russet grasses, and prepared for the storm that was coming. As he gazed out over the misty moorland he thought of a poem by Carlyle:

          The wind blows east, the wind blows west,
          And the frost falls and the rain:
          A weary heart went thankful to rest,
          And must rise to toil again, ’gain,
          And must rise to toil again.

          The wind blows east, the wind blows west,
          And there comes good luck and bad;
          The thriftiest man is the cheerfulest;
          ’Tis a thriftless thing to be sad, sad,
          ’Tis a thriftless thing to be sad.

          The wind blows east, the wind blows west;
          Ye shall know a tree by its fruit:
          This world, they say, is worst to the best;—
          But a dastard has evil to boot, boot,
          But a dastard has evil to boot.

          The wind blows east, the wind blows west;
          What skills it to mourn or to talk?
          A journey I have, and far ere I rest;
          I must bundle my wallets and walk, walk,
          I must bundle my wallets and walk.

          The wind does blow as it lists alway;
          Canst thou change this world to thy mind?
          The world will wander its own wise way;
          I also will wander mine, mine,
          I also will wander mine.

[Algy is quoting the poem Fortuna by the 19th century Scottish author and philosopher Thomas Carlyle.]