By Liam
O’Flaherty
The young
seagull was alone in 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, scolding 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, laughing at his cowardice.
The sun was now ascending the sky, blazing warmly
on his ledge that faced south. He felt the heat because he had not eaten since
the previous nightfall. Then he had found a dried piece of mackerel’s tail at
the far end of his ledge. Now there was not a single scrap of food left. He had
searched every inch, rooting among the rough, dirt-caked straw nest where he
and his brothers and sister had been hatched. He even gnawed at the dried
pieces of eggshell. It was like eating part of himself.
He had then trotted back and forth from one end of
the ledge to the other, his long gray legs stepping daintily, trying to find
some means of reaching his parents without having to fly. But on each side of
him the ledge ended in a sheer fall of precipice, with the sea beneath. And
between him and his parents there was a deep, wide crack.
Surely he could reach them without flying if he
could only move northwards along the cliff face? But then on what could he
walk? There was no ledge, and he was not a fly. And above him he could see
nothing. The precipice was sheer, and the top of it was perhaps farther away
than the sea beneath him.
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
scraped each side of her beak on the rock. The sight of the food maddened him.
How he loved to tear food that way, scraping his beak now and again to whet it!
He uttered a low cackle. His mother cackled too, and looked over at him.
Ga, ga,
ga, he cried, begging her to
bring him over some food. Gawl-ool-ah, she
screamed back mockingly. 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, abreast of the ledge, she halted, her legs hanging limp, 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. His mother had swooped
upwards. As he passed beneath her he heard the swish of her wings.
Then a
monstrous terror seized him and his heart stood still. He could hear nothing.
But it only lasted a moment. 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.
He uttered a joyous scream and flapped them again.
He soared higher. He raised his breast and banked against the wind. Ga, ga,
ga. Ga, ga, ga. Gawl-ool-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. The he saw his two brothers and sister flying around him, soaring
and diving.
Then he completely forgot that he had not always
been able to fly, and commenced himself to dive and soar, shrieking shrilly.
He was
near the sea now, flying straight over it, facing out over the ocean. He saw a
vast green sea beneath him, with little ridges moving over it, - anti he turned
his beak sideways and crowed amusedly. His parents and his brothers and sister
had landed on this green floor in front 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment