Algy flew a few miles further south, following the shoreline of the great sea loch until he reached a different sort of woodland. Here he found a spot where a fast, rushing burn swept tumbling through between the trees at the foot of a steep, wooded hillside. Many of the trees were fresh and young, but some were very old, battered and torn by the wind and the weather over the course of the years. Here and there, pretty clumps of primroses were still in flower, and Algy was pleased to see that there were even a few wild violets. He found himself an excellent perch on a massive fallen branch, and sat there for a while, watching a tiny treecreeper flitting from tree to tree down by the burn, and creeping up the trunk of each one.
(This post is especially dedicated to Algy’s Canadian friend aboyningphotography.)