Algy flew on to his favourite lookout point. At this time of year the terraces of bare rock were provided with dense cushions of grasses and heather, and it looked much more welcoming than in the winter, although it was still the most exposed spot on the headland. He reclined on the grass in the early autumn sunshine, with his back against the warm rock and his hair feathers streaming out in the wind, and began to compose a new song…

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