[Critique Group 1] Leonard's critiquje for grup 1 May

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

## Cleora

 

This is a great origins tale.  I had a cockatiel and he certainly was an escape artist.  The piece is informative, as origin stories are supposed to be. I assume they are in the parrot family. I know that parrots’, in general, are not night   flyers. Am I right?
851 words
Why Cockatiel Wings Cross
by C. S. Boyd

Back when the world was new, and before humans introduced clocks, there were many birds but not as many as there are now. One of these birds was a Tiel. Tiels were uninteresting birds with dull grey feathers a white bib under their beaks, and bright orange cheeks. Perhaps this is why tiels were such curious birds.\

Now, there was one tiel in particular that was more curious than most. His mother called him Cocky. His father sometimes called him Cocky, but mostly, he called him other things which we will not mention in this story since it doesn't really matter.
Well, anyway, Cocky, when he got old enough to fly, would launch himself from the edge of the nest hole and fly around and around the tree

Can I assume that the nest was not an open bowl shape, but rather that of an arbor or closed top basket with a side hole?

 

. As he grew stronger, he flew faster and faster and started flying higher and higher until he could almost look down on the tree where the nest was.
"Don't fly so high," admonished his mother.

It would have been safer for him to fly higher than the trees if he were going to fly so fast? And how can you fly straight in a forest, unless you are above the trees?

 

"Straighten out your flight," advised his father. "You won't get anywhere flying in circles.

There is nothing to eat at the top of this tree."
"I just wanted to see what is up there," insisted Cocky.
"Well, from now on, you and your clutch mates are going to need to go with your mother and me to learn to forage for food. It is time you learned how and where to search," said his father.

We already know that his father is talking.


"OK," said Cocky, reluctantly.
And, so he did. But, at night when the other birds were asleep, Cocky would go exploring. One night he was out so long that he barely got home before the sun peeked over the horizon. He was so tired, he almost missed landing on the edge of the hole to the nest.

Can these birds see well enough at night to fly?


He stumbled in and plopped down exhausted at the feet of his mother and father.
"Where have you been," demanded his father.
Cocky was barely able to move, but that didn't dampen his excitement. "I flew higher than I have ever flown before," he said. "I almost reached the firmament at the top of the sky."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed his mother. She moved quickly to him and tried to gather him under her wings. She looked at Cocky's father. "You must do something. You have to stop our son from doing this crazy thing."
Cocky's father looked at him with a serious expression. "Cocky, you must stop trying to fly so high. You must never go into the firmament."
For several days Cocky heeded his parents warning, but he couldn't help but wonder what would happen. Every day he would stand gazing up at the firmament at the top of the sky and wonder.
One day, he could stand it no longer. Instead of flying in a circle to gain height, he flew straight up. He flew and he flew and he flew. It got colder and colder and still he flew. Finally, ice forming on his wing feathers, he reached the firmament. He grasp it with his feet and stuck his head up into the ceiling of the sky. Water filled his nostrils and he tried to pull his head out, but it was stuck. He pushed against the barrier with all his might, but then the tips of his flight feathers went through. The sun began to bleach the feathers on top of his head. After what seemed like forever, he pulled free. He was so tired and so cold that he began to fall. As he fell, the air grew warmer. As the ice began to thaw, he was able to spread his wings and glide to a landing at the bottom of the tree where the nest was.
At first his family didn't recognize him because the feathers on top of his head were standing straight up and some were white and some yellow.
"Cocky!" exclaimed his mother, "What has happened to you?"
"I flew up to the roof in the sky," said Cocky. He was so tired and scared he couldn't tell them what happened.
"But, your head," said his father, "the feathers are yellow and sticking up."
"And your wings," said one of his clutch mates. "Your flight wings are so long now that they cross over your back."
Cocky looked around. Sure enough with his wings folded at his side, his flight wings were crossing over his back. He spread and closed his wings several times, and each time the long flight feathers crossed first one and then the other on top.
And so it was that all Cocky tiel's descendants had long flight feathers that crossed over their back when they folded their wings and the feathers on top of their head were yellow and stood up in a crest.
Cockatiels are one of the fastest flying birds of the bird family reaching speeds up to 48 mph (80 kph), and their mood is clearly communicated by the position of their yellow crest. They are curious birds, climb using their beaks to pull themselves up, and are accomplished escape artists.

That is very true.
--------

 

 

## Deana

 

As usuall, I found the reading very engaging. An overall suggestion I have is that this section is in danger of being too much of a list of experiences. Some introductory  sentences to tie them together  would be helpful.

 

Chapter 13.

Woodland Wanderings

 

Curt loved the outdoors. One of his professors said that he was the finest natural field biologist he had had the pleasure of teaching.  Many of Curt’s friends were hikers and climbers. On long weekends or school holidays, they loved nothing better than to head out into the desert or up in to the mountains.  Not to be left out, Tammy and I learned to hike.  She was a marvel at picking the easiest path down and around boulders and drop offs.  She enjoyed the scents and sounds of the woods.  On one trip to Yosemite, Curt put up a small two-man tent a good distance from the nearest road.  We hung our packs up in a tree.  Since the tent was barely wide enough for our two sleeping bags, I tied Tammy to a nearby picnic table.  She barked intermittently during the night.  We were camping with friends from school.  I didn’t want her to disturb everyone’s sleep a second time.   On the next night, I took Tammy into the tent sharing the edge of my sleeping bag with her.  She woke me by leaning hard against my side.  Her ribs vibrated with almost inaudible growls.  When I woke Curt, he peered outside. He found that a large mother bear and her two cubs were raiding our campsite.  Tammy’s barking had spared us a visit the previous night.  The voices of our friends called back and forth.  Michael, the boy sleeping next to our tent kept whispering to his girlfriend Chris to turn her flashlight on the bear to scare her away.  Chris hissed back a frightened “no.”  A baby bear was ensconced on the foot of her sleeping bag happily munching down a bag of potato chips.  A crash came from behind our tent and all I could picture was our friend Rusty who had brought a folding cot going over in a tangle.  It was actually mama bear throwing an ice chest to open it.  Curt could see Michael trying to inch away like a six-foot caterpillar.  He had tied himself into a mummy bag so tightly that he couldn’t get free. When the bears ambled away, we gathered to assess the damage.  We discovered a fat raccoon seated on the picnic table devouring a box of pudding mix.  His rotundity attested to his habit of following the bear family on its rounds.

 

Curt and I were the only ones with any food remaining untouched after the raid.  Our packs hung up in the tree had been too much trouble to disturb with so much easier plunder around the campsite.  The next morning I cooked oatmeal with raisins and pancakes for all with the dry supplies I had carried.  Tammy was fine too as she had carried her dog food in small saddlebags on her harness.  They too had been stored hanging over a branch in the tree.  

 

Another trip took us to climb Mount Baden Powell.  Tammy’s claws were natural crampons to give her purchase as we climbed.  I spent as much time sliding back down as I did climbing.  More experienced climbers followed to catch me as I slid passed them.  I didn’t try to have Tammy guide.  I needed both hands to hold on to rocks and roots.  I even gave away my ice axe because I thought I was at greater risk of cutting off a foot trying to chop footholds with it.  When we reached the top, our names were recorded in the book and we all sat around enjoying snacks before slithering back down.  I decided that hiking trails were fun, but I would remain at base camp with a good book the next time Curt and his friends wanted to climb another mountain!  Tammy thoroughly enjoyed the experience and kept within reach in her customary position on my left as we climbed. 

 

·        I think you need a transition sentence before or at the beginning of the next paragraph.

We bought a used tandem single-speed bicycle and Tammy learned to run beside the bike on a long leash.  She started out almost pulling us and as she tired, she dropped back beside me.  When she started to lag behind the bike, we stopped for a five-minute rest.  Then she was eager to go again.  She got very excited whenever we brought the bike out of the storage shed.  She quickly learned to keep on the far side of it away from the road and enjoyed our trips as much as we did. 

 

Tammy liked the beach too, racing up and down chasing the waves.  She was puzzled that the water didn’t taste good.  Of course she never ran too far before returning to my side.  Only once did she forget her primary concern, (looking after me,) to race off in pursuit of a rabbit that burst from cover nearly beneath her paws.  She went from a sedate ramble to a dead run in seconds.  A call from me brought her trotting back across the brush with a slightly guilty expression for forgetting her duty.  She liked lakes and rivers best for water environments.  We bought an inflatable canoe.  Tammy overcame her dislike of swimming to chase us across a lake.  Her desire to always keep me in sight resulted in her overcoming her timidity in any situation.

·        I never met a lab that didn’t love to swim.

The summer we graduated from college, we drove across country visiting 21 states.  Since we only had about four hundred dollars to spend, we camped out each night and cooked over a camp stove.  Most of our money went for gas and for entrance fees to sights along the way.  We stopped to pick up my youngest brother in Michigan and drove to Washington D.C.  At the national zoo, kudu came to the fence and hung their heads over to call greetings to Tammy.  The Siberian tiger appeared to be wondering if guide dogs were good eating. 

 

At the F.B.I. building, our tour guide demonstrated shooting off a revolver and a machine gun.  Tammy only lifted her head from where it was resting on my foot to glance at him.  She seemed to think that if I weren’t worried about all the noise, then there was nothing to concern her.

 

When I climbed up a ladder exploring a blockhouse at Fort Bridger, I turned around to find that Tammy had followed me up.  Of course, she couldn’t quite manage getting down the ladder.  Curt had to carry her down.

 

Since she had never been trained to use escalators safely, Curt was put to the task of carrying her on those too.  She seemed to smile and wagged her tail frantically each time she was given a ride in this fashion.  I sometimes got the impression she went out of her way to find reasons to be carried.  Since she had now finished growing, she was a hefty ninety-pound load. This was just another task for that guy who insisted on being a part of our family, dog porter.

## Sally

 

I love this poem...  It is the beginning of a story. It would be a great way to start the story. It is a grabber. A hook. Kudos. 

I think a title would be a good idea.

 

She wasn’t prepared to love him so fiercely,

·        This is a powerful, passionate first sentence. As a beginning line, the object is not defined and could have been a lover, a child, or a character from Beauty and the Beast.

This somber black Labrador retriever who arrived

To become her third and, perhaps, last guide dog.

·        The last part of this line really intensifies the story told.

 

He sized her up quickly with intelligent eyes,

This aging woman standing before him,

Worn down by her burdensome sack of worries and sorrow,

And intuited she needed more than his guide work.

·        These last 3 lines summarize the situation and rivet the reader’s attention.

When she sat and called his name, he lovingly rested

His broad Labrador head on her lap and

Made her understand he would bury that sack in a deep, deep hole

·        The burying part of the above line is especially good.

And care for her with all his gentle being.

 
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