Algy spent a peaceful night roosting in the beautiful beech tree, soothed by the soporific sound of the constant murmur of water over its rocky bed. When he woke the next morning, the burn was still flowing onwards past his perch, making its way steadfastlly down to the great sea loch. Although the woods were lovely in their summer greenery, Algy knew that it was time for him to do the same: it was time for him to return to his little grey home in the west…

Algy returned to the edge of the great sea loch, and perched on a barnacle-covered rock. The tide was sweeping in, carrying the water swiftly up towards the head of the loch, and Algy thought that maybe it was about time for him to follow it. He was beginning to feel a wee bit homesick for his own special patch of moorland and the beautiful western shore that was his home. For the moment, though, he was fascinated by the geometric patterns of light on the water, so he tarried a while longer, watching the ripples flowing, flowing, flowing…