The weather had turned much cloudier and damper but Algy didn’t mind, because the rain helps the peat bogs to flourish. At this time of year the unique aromatic fragrance of the Bog Myrtle fills the air around Algy’s home, and he loves to get as close to it as possible. The wonderful smell of the fresh leaves in his beak made his hair stand on end in the breeze!

Algy sends you all a cooling waft of the damp, fragrant summer air of his West Highland home, and hopes you have a cool and peaceful weekend xx

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It was altogether too cold on the seashore, so Algy retreated to a more sheltered spot. The wind and rain had been battering the long grasses and wildflowers all weekend, leaving hollows which were just perfect for a fluffy bird to snuggle down into. Algy settled down to watch the gentle dance of the daisies:

          See, the grass is full of stars,
          Fallen in their brightness;
          Hearts they have of shining gold,
          Rays of shining whiteness.

          Buttercups have honeyed hearts,
          Bees they love the clover,
          But I love the daisies’ dance
          All the meadow over.

          Blow, O blow, you happy winds,
          Singing summer’s praises,
          Up the field and down the field
          A-dancing with the daisies.

[Algy is quoting the poem Daisy Time by the early 20th century Canadian poet Marjorie Pickthall.]

At the raised, drier edges of the peat bog, the flowers were much tinier, like wee jewels among the mossy grass. It was cosy and warm there, so Algy tucked himself in among the waving reeds and grasses, with his back to the wind, and dozed happily for a while in the hazy sunshine.

It was a fine early summer afternoon, with a pleasant light breeze from the north. Algy was happy just to sit by the loch for a while, dreaming lazily of adventures yet to come, and watching the sea birds going about their business while the water rippled gently against the pebbles.