3.1 Two Stories about Flying Part I. His First Flight
THE young seagull was alone on his ledge. His two brothers and his sister had already flown away the day before. He had been afraid to fly with them. Somehow when he had taken a little run forward to the brink of the ledge and attempted to flap his wings he became afraid. The great expanse of sea stretched down beneath, and it was such a long way down — miles down. He felt certain that his wings would never support him; so he bent his head and ran away back to the little hole under the ledge where he slept at night. Even when each of his brothers and his little sister, whose wings were far shorter than his own, ran to the brink, flapped their wings, and flew away, he failed to muster up courage to take that plunge which appeared to him so desperate. His father and mother had come around calling to him shrilly, upbraiding him, threatening to let him starve on his ledge unless he flew away. But for the life of him he could not move.
That was twenty-four hours ago. Since then nobody had come near him. The day before, all day long, he had watched his parents flying about with his brothers and sister, perfecting them in the art of flight, teaching them how to skim the waves and how to dive for fish. He had, in fact, seen his older brother catch his first herring and devour it, standing on a rock, while his parents circled around raising a proud cackle. And all the morning the whole family had walked about on the big plateau midway down the opposite cliff taunting him with his cowardice.
The sun was now ascending the sky, blazing on his ledge that faced the south. He felt the heat because he had not eaten since the previous nightfall.
He stepped slowly out to the brink of the ledge, and standing on one leg with the other leg hidden under his wing, he closed one eye, then the other, and pretended to be falling asleep. Still they took no notice of him. He saw his two brothers and his sister lying on the plateau dozing with their heads sunk into their necks. His father was preening the feathers on his white back. Only his mother was looking at him. She was standing on a little high hump on the plateau, her white breast thrust forward. Now and again, she tore at a piece of fish that lay at her feet and then scrapped each side of her beak on the rock. The sight of the food maddened him. How he loved to tear food that way, scrapping his beak now and again to whet it.
“Ga, ga, ga,” he cried begging her to bring him some food. “Gaw-col-ah,” she screamed back derisively. But he kept calling plaintively, and after a minute or so he uttered a joyful scream. His mother had picked up a piece of the fish and was flying across to him with it. He leaned out eagerly, tapping the rock with his feet, trying to get nearer to her as she flew across. But when she was just opposite to him, she halted, her wings motionless, the piece of fish in her beak almost within reach of his beak. He waited a moment in surprise, wondering why she did not come nearer, and then, maddened by hunger, he dived at the fish. With a loud scream he fell outwards and downwards into space. Then a monstrous terror seized him and his heart stood still. He could hear nothing. But it only lasted a minute. The next moment he felt his wings spread outwards. The wind rushed against his breast feathers, then under his stomach, and against his wings. He could feel the tips of his wings cutting through the air. He was not falling headlong now. He was soaring gradually downwards and outwards. He was no longer afraid. He just felt a bit dizzy. Then he flapped his wings once and he soared upwards. “Ga, ga, ga, Ga, ga, ga, Gaw-col-ah,” his mother swooped past him, her wings making a loud noise. He answered her with another scream. Then his father flew over him screaming. He saw his two brothers and his sister flying around him curveting and banking and soaring and diving.
Then he completely forgot that he had not always been able to fly, and commended himself to dive and soar and curve, shrieking shrilly.
He was near the sea now, flying straight over it, facing straight out over the ocean. He saw a vast green sea beneath him, with little ridges moving over it and he turned his beak sideways and cawed amusedly.
His parents and his brothers and sister had landed on this green flooring ahead of him. They were beckoning to him, calling shrilly. He dropped his legs to stand on the green sea. His legs sank into it. He screamed with fright and attempted to rise again flapping his wings. But he was tired and weak with hunger and he could not rise, exhausted by the strange exercise. His feet sank into the green sea, and then his belly touched it and he sank no farther. He was floating on it, and around him his family was screaming, praising him and their beaks were offering him scraps of dog-fish.
He had made his first flight.
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1. Why was the young seagull afraid to fly? Do you think all young birds are afraid to make their first flight, or are some birds more timid than others? Do you think a human baby also finds it a challenge to take its first steps?
Answer: The young seagull was afraid to fly because he thought his wings wouldn't support him, and he feared falling into the sea. Not all birds may be as scared as the young seagull. Some might be more brave, while others might be more scared. Just like the seagull, a human baby also finds it hard to take their first steps and may be scared or hesitant.
2. “The sight of the food maddened him.” What does this suggest? What compelled the young seagull to finally fly?
Answer: The sight of food made him so hungry that he couldn't think of anything else. His hunger and the desire for food made him so desperate that he finally gathered the courage to fly, especially when his mother held food just out of his reach.
3. “They were beckoning to him, calling shrilly.” Why did the seagull’s father and mother threaten him and cajole him to fly?
Answer: The seagull’s parents knew he had to learn to fly to survive. They threatened him and tried to encourage him because they wanted him to face his fears and become independent, as flying was necessary for him to find food.
4. Have you ever had a similar experience, where your parents encouraged you to do something that you were too scared to try? Discuss this in pairs or groups.
Answer: Many people have similar experiences where their parents encourage them to do something new, like riding a bicycle or swimming, even when they are scared. Parents push children to overcome their fears and try new things to help them grow and learn.
5. In the case of a bird flying, it seems a natural act, and a foregone conclusion that it should succeed. In the examples you have given in answer to the previous question, was your success guaranteed, or was it important for you to try, regardless of a possibility of failure?
Answer: In the case of a bird flying, it may seem natural that it will succeed, but it still has to try. Similarly, in our own experiences, success is not always guaranteed. However, it is important to try, even if we might fail. Trying is how we learn and grow, and even if we don't succeed at first, the effort and experience help us get better. So, while success isn't always certain, what matters is the attempt and the courage to try.
Speaking
We have just read about the first flight of a young seagull. Your teacher will now divide the class into groups. Each group will work on one of the following topics. Prepare a presentation with your group members and then present it to the entire class.
• Progression of Models of Airplanes
• Progression of Models of Motorcars
• Birds and Their Wing Span
• Migratory Birds — Tracing Their Flights
Writing
Write a short composition on your initial attempts at learning a skill. You could describe the challenges of learning to ride a bicycle or learning to swim. Make it as humorous as possible.
Answer: When I first tried learning to ride a bicycle, I thought, "How hard can this be? You just sit, pedal, and go!" Well, I was wrong. Very wrong.
The first challenge was balance. I thought I had it figured out until I realized the ground had a special magnet just for me! Every time I got on the bike, I’d wobble for about two seconds before heading straight into the bushes. My knees and elbows became experts in dirt-sampling.
Then came the pedaling. For some reason, my feet would never move in sync. I’d push one pedal too hard, and the other would suddenly become a stranger to my foot. It was like riding with two left feet! I once pedaled so fast out of panic that I crashed into a parked car. It wasn’t even moving, but I treated it like a magnetized obstacle!
After several dramatic falls, I finally managed to stay upright for a few minutes. I was so proud of myself...until I realized I didn’t know how to stop. Instead of using the brakes, I flailed my arms, yelled "HELP!" and crashed into a hedge, which, fortunately, cushioned the fall.
Learning to ride a bike was a series of bumps, bruises, and belly laughs. But hey, eventually, I figured it out—no hands, no crashes! Well, most of the time.
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