First Flight~English Composition Correction (please give critique because I have to hand it back to school again)
Posted January 7th, 2013 by LaurenM
January 7th, 2013
A/N: Firstly, this is supposed to be like a magazine article, because it was something that was required. Please tell me what I can do to make it seem more like an article.
Secondly, don't mistake the coin part as the raven's parents wanting to draw the raven away from wanting to fly--they just wanted him to stop talking to their neighbour because ravens are naturally defensive of their young. They also adore shiny objects.
And I am aware of the clicheness of the ending. Time was running out and I had to make one up quick as quick D: So don't bother pointing that out when you critique.
A first flight for a human automatically redirects one’s mind to something like paragliding, something glorious and daring one does in someplace like a sport resort. However, for a bird—a Common Raven which lives at the edge of a wood in Oxford, England, and is my interviewee in this case—it is a crucial part of life.
Well, duh! You may say, everyone knows that! The first thing we knew about birds was that they could fly! And that, unlike lots of other superstitions about ravens that they are death omens, is indeed true. Let us hear from the raven; the interviewee itself!
“I have always longed to fly,” says the raven, “even when I was still a fledgling in my nest. Every day, I’d wake up to my parents’ ‘skraa’ing as they spread their deep black wings and flew towards me, with food clamped in their beaks because I was still too little and fragile to go scavenging with them.”
As the raven grew older and stronger, its knowledge about flight was enriched by its neighbour, which lived atop the oak beside their own aspen. Our raven had a dreamy expression on its face as it mused reminiscently, “He was a constant traveler, never staying long in the same forest or rubbish dump until now, since his maid had laid eggs. Trapped inside my still-flightless body, I had no idea what that was at that age, though it wasn’t particularly nice, only profuse in scraps and leftover meat—I had the fortune—or perhaps misfortune—to see it last month.
“He spoke of his best adventure, accompanied by several other ravens. They were particularly hungry and were flying onwards determinedly, hoping to see carrion lying on the ground, waiting for them to fill their stomachs, when they saw two wolves, one grey and one brown, dragging a dead deer over the snow, dampening its hide with cold white slush. They darted beak-first and stole the wolves’ prey!” With a large amount of glee sparkling in its eyes, the raven ‘skraa’d.
Because Raven’s parents were scared that their neighbor was trying to get close to their son as part of play planned with eagles or whatever animal that ate ravens, they tried to diminish Raven’s interest in their neighbor with ‘a flat, circular, golden lump of…metallic hardness’. Since Raven had already lost this trinket, I cannot be sure of what it actually is, but I suspected it was a coin. He reacted like I’d expected—ravens are naturally drawn to shiny objects, “Anyway, it worked, because I just…the shininess was just too seducing! It made me more determined to fly than ever, especially now I knew this golden lump came from the outside world that I was currently unable to be a part of.
Finally, the time for first flight came. “My feelings were a mixture of nervousness, joy and impatience, and my agitation made my wings flutter incessantly. My mother gave me a quick prep talk and instructed me in how to thrust myself upwards with a beat of my wings. She then demonstrated, doing it so gracefully and easily that I felt really confident. Nodding impatiently, I took off and there I was, speeding towards the endless blue, with the wind ruffling at my feathers. Opening my beak to give a ‘skraa!’of exhilaration, I was suddenly falling, and in a daze of bewilderment, I crashed on a clump of hard, caked earth and brittle grass.
“I was confused. I’d thought flight was fun in action form, and here I was, in grievous pain. Then I suddenly realized that it was my first time trying out a crucial part of raven life, and that failure is a must through the journey to success.
“Now that I can fly as easily as my parents and neighbourdid, I often think back to my unforgettable first flight, and how I’d learnt an important lesson that day—‘with no failure, there’s no success!’”
And there, my dear readers and friends, I guess we’ve all learnt something valuable today—to quote Raven and lots of other wise philosophers: ‘with no failure, there’s no success’—and that ravens can be wise enough to give you advice. Over and Out!
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