Friendship Sparkles


Algy has been deeply touched by all the sweet “welcome back” messages and comments which he has received from so many friends around the world since his return two days ago. He can’t help wondering whether any other fluffy bird ever had friends like this before… So he sends you all his very fluffiest hugs and his warmest thanks, and these lines from an Aztec poem:

Like a quetzal plume, a fragrant flower,
friendship sparkles:
like heron plumes, it weaves itself into finery.
Our song is a bird calling out like a jingle:
how beautiful you make it sound!
Here, among flowers that enclose us,
among flowery boughs you are singing.

[Algy is quoting part of an ancient Aztec poem, which he believes to have been written by Nezahualcoyotl, King of Texcoco in the 15th century.]


Alone… Not Alone!


Algy perched on a cushion of orange-brown seaweed on the cold, grey rock, as the storm clouds gathered overhead and the waves crashed all around him – a fluffy bird alone, facing the wrath of the elements…

For a moment he was reminded of a famous poem by Edgar Allan Poe, but then he reflected that in fact he was never alone, as he had so many amazing friends, all around the world.

So Algy sends you all his very fluffiest hugs, from the stormy shores of the wild west Highlands of Scotland, and reminds you that if you should ever feel isolated, as Poe did, remember that you are not really alone, as you will always have a very special friend, waiting to send you a fluffy hug 🙂

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—

[Algy is quoting the poem Alone by the 19th century American writer Edgar Allan Poe.]

Algy found himself a rock that was not too prickly with barnacles, and buried his beak in his wee volume of “Poems of the Sea”. He was thinking of his special friend Stephanie, who was about to end her visit to Skye and the West Highlands and return to her home in Canada. For her sake he read out one of his favourite sea poems to an audience of shellfish and anemones in the rock pool in front of him. He hoped that Stephanie would hear his voice as she flew overhead, way back across the mighty ocean behind him. “Bon voyage et à bientôt!” he cried.

         The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep, 
            And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
            I heard the first wave of the rising tide
            Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
         A voice out of the silence of the deep,
            A sound mysteriously multiplied
            As of a cataract from the mountain’s side,
            Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
         So comes to us at times, from the unknown
            And inaccessible solitudes of being,
            The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
         And inspirations, that we deem our own,
            Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing
            Of things beyond our reason or control.

Algy is reading The Sound of the Sea by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Algy’s poor old friend in the hospital was feeling very unwell after his operation and suffering a lot of pain, so Algy flew to his friend’s favourite spot on the great sea loch – a place where he knew his friend would like to be right now. Algy perched in a tree which his friend knew well, and gazed out down the loch towards the ocean and the light, sending special healing thoughts south on the breeze to help his friend.

Good Morning, Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and Welcome!

At Christmas time a kind neighbour gave Algy a large bulb from Holland, and told him to plant it in a pot. Imagine Algy’s surprise when, a few months later, he found that this had happened! The amazing flowers were almost bigger than him!

So Algy would like to offer this spectacular plant to all his lovely followers and friends on Tumblr. Algy has been thrilled to gain many new followers recently, and thanks you all very much indeed 🙂  He is so pleased that you enjoy his adventures! And he is also very touched by the kindness and loyalty of his special Tumblr friends and older followers – he loves you all xxx

Algy is so happy to get all your messages and comments, and he wants you to know that he always tries to reply personally without delay, but sometimes he doesn’t quite manage to keep up with things, as it’s a wee bit difficult to type with fluffy wings. But he really loves to hear from you all, and will keep on answering your messages as quickly as he can 🙂 He also enjoys all your wonderful blogs, and thanks you very much for sharing all your beautiful images from around the world.

Have a lovely day, and enjoy your flowers!

Strange mists were swirling around the ridges in the morning light behind him, but Algy wasn’t watching them. He was thinking of a friend far away, who had sent him an unexpected gift, and of all the friends who had been so kind to him and to his assistant at a sad and difficult time.

Algy sends you all his love and thanks, and this beautiful Aztec poem:

          Like a quetzal plume, a fragrant flower,
          friendship sparkles:
          like heron plumes, it weaves itself into finery.
          Our song is a bird calling out like a jingle:
          how beautiful you make it sound!
          Here, among flowers that enclose us,
          Among flowery boughs you are singing.

Algy Greets All His Friends


In Algy’s wee corner of the West Highlands it has been raining for two days straight, but Algy is happy because he has made new friends on Tumblr. He greets all his friends, near and far, and hopes they are happy and at peace. He says:

          If I were to live my life
          in catfish forms
          in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
          at the bottom of a pond
          and you were to come by
              one evening
          when the moon was shining
          down into my dark home
          and stand there at the edge
             of my affection
          and think, “It’s beautiful
          here by this pond.  I wish
             somebody loved me,”
          I’d love you and be your catfish
          friend and drive such lonely
          thoughts from your mind
          and suddenly you would be
             at peace,
          and ask yourself, “I wonder
          if there are any catfish
          in this pond?  It seems like
          a perfect place for them.”

[Algy quotes Richard Brautigan’s poem Your Catfish Friend.]

Algy Picks a Posy for a Sick Friend

Hearing that one of his old friends was ill, Algy picked a specially bright posy to take to her. Distracted for a moment by a beautiful rainbow over the sea, he paused in his tree to rehearse this sonnet for her recovery:

          Fair flower! that fall’n beneath the angry blast,
          Which marks with wither’d sweets its fearful way,
          I grieve to see thee on the low earth cast,
          While beauty’s trembling tints fade fast away.
          But who is she, that from the mountain’s head
          Comes gaily on, cheering the child of earth?
          The walks of woe bloom bright beneath her tread,
          And Nature smiles with renovated mirth?
          ‘Tis Health! She comes: and, hark! the vallies ring,
          And, hark! the echoing hills repeat the sound:
          She sheds the new-blown blossoms of the spring,
          And all their fragrance floats her footsteps round.
          And, hark! she whispers in the zephyr’s voice,
          Lift up thy head, fair floweret, and rejoice!

[Algy is rehearsing the sonnet To … On Her Recovery From Illness by the 19th century poet Thomas Gent.]