BEFORE YOU READ
Since the earliest times, humans have dreamt of conquering the
skies. Here are two stories about flying.
I. A young seagull is afraid to fly. How does he conquer his fear?
II. A pilot is lost in storm clouds. Does he arrive safe? Who helps
him?
I
His First Flight
THE young seagull was alone on his ledge. His two ledge
brothers and his sister had already flown away the a narrow horizontal
shelf projecting from
day before. He had been afraid to fly with them.
a wall or (here) a cliff
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
Reprint 2025-26
,calling to him shrilly, upbraiding him, threatening upbraiding
to let him starve on his ledge unless he flew away. scolding
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 (to) skim
how to dive for fish. He had, in fact, seen his older to move lightly just
above a surface
brother catch his first herring and devour it,
(here, the sea)
standing on a rock, while his parents circled around
herring
raising a proud cackle. And all the morning the
a soft-finned sea fish
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, 33
Two Stories about Flying
Reprint 2025-26
, 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 preening
feathers on his white back. Only his mother was making an effort to
maintain feathers
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. (to) whet
“Ga, ga, ga,” he cried begging her to bring him to sharpen
some food. “Gaw-col-ah,” she screamed back
derisively. But he kept calling plaintively, and derisively
after a minute or so he uttered a joyful scream. in a manner
showing someone
His mother had picked up a piece of the fish and that she/he is stupid
First Flight
was flying across to him with it. He leaned out
34
Reprint 2025-26
Since the earliest times, humans have dreamt of conquering the
skies. Here are two stories about flying.
I. A young seagull is afraid to fly. How does he conquer his fear?
II. A pilot is lost in storm clouds. Does he arrive safe? Who helps
him?
I
His First Flight
THE young seagull was alone on his ledge. His two ledge
brothers and his sister had already flown away the a narrow horizontal
shelf projecting from
day before. He had been afraid to fly with them.
a wall or (here) a cliff
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
Reprint 2025-26
,calling to him shrilly, upbraiding him, threatening upbraiding
to let him starve on his ledge unless he flew away. scolding
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 (to) skim
how to dive for fish. He had, in fact, seen his older to move lightly just
above a surface
brother catch his first herring and devour it,
(here, the sea)
standing on a rock, while his parents circled around
herring
raising a proud cackle. And all the morning the
a soft-finned sea fish
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, 33
Two Stories about Flying
Reprint 2025-26
, 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 preening
feathers on his white back. Only his mother was making an effort to
maintain feathers
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. (to) whet
“Ga, ga, ga,” he cried begging her to bring him to sharpen
some food. “Gaw-col-ah,” she screamed back
derisively. But he kept calling plaintively, and derisively
after a minute or so he uttered a joyful scream. in a manner
showing someone
His mother had picked up a piece of the fish and that she/he is stupid
First Flight
was flying across to him with it. He leaned out
34
Reprint 2025-26
