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<h4>Hello Students, read the below article then on your own webpage on www.goodtoknow.com, write a short constructed response using "R-A-C-E-" as instructed in class.</h4>
 
<h4>Hello Students, read the below article then on your own webpage on www.goodtoknow.com, write a short constructed response using "R-A-C-E-" as instructed in class.</h4>
 
    
 
    
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       '''Why did the mother stork want for her children to learn how to fly?'''
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       '''What do you think was the author's purpose in writing the story?'''
 
       '''Use at least two details from the passage to support your response.'''
 
       '''Use at least two details from the passage to support your response.'''
  
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<br><br>'''<h4>THE STORKS</h4>'''
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<br><br>'''<h4>THE FARMYARD ROOSTER AND THE WEATHER ROOSTER</h4>'''
  
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<br>ON the last house in the village there lay a stork's nest. The mother stork sat in it with her four little ones, who were stretching out their heads with their pointed black bills that had not yet turned red. At a little distance, on the top of the roof, stood the father stork, bolt upright and as stiff as could be. That he might not appear quite idle while standing sentry, he had drawn one leg up under him, as is the manner of storks. One might have taken him to be carved in marble, so still did he stand.
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<br>THERE were once two roosters; one of them stood on a dunghill, the other on the roof. Both were conceited, but the question is, Which of the two was the more useful?
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<br>"It must look very grand for my wife to have a sentinel to guard her nest," he thought. "They can't know that I am her husband and will, of course, conclude that I am commanded to stand here by her nest. It looks aristocratic!"
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A wooden partition divided the poultry-yard from another yard, in which lay a heap of manure sheltering a cucumber bed. In this bed grew a large cucumber, which was fully aware that it was a plant that should be reared in a hotbed.
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<br>"It is the privilege of birth," said the Cucumber to itself. "All cannot be born cucumbers; there must be other kinds as well. The fowls, the ducks, and the cattle in the next yard are all different creatures, and there is the yard rooster—I can look up to him when he is on the wooden partition. He is certainly of much greater importance than the weather-vane, who is so highly placed, and who can't even creak, much less crow—besides, he has neither hens nor chickens, and thinks only of himself, and perspires verdigris. But the yard rooster is something like a rooster. His gait is like a dance, and his crowing is music, and wherever he goes it is instantly known. What a trumpeter he is! If he would only come in here! Even if he were to eat me up, stalk and all, it would be a pleasant death." So said the Cucumber.
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<br>Below, in the street, a crowd of children were playing. When they chanced to catch sight of the storks, one of the boldest of the boys began to sing the old song about the stork. The others soon joined him, but each sang the words that he happened to have heard. This is one of the ways:
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<br>During the night the weather became very bad; hens, chickens, and even the rooster himself sought shelter. The wind blew down with a crash the partition between the two yards, and the tiles came tumbling from the roof, but the weather-vane stood firm. He did not even turn round; in fact, he could not, although he was fresh and newly cast. He had been born full-grown and did not at all resemble the birds, such as the sparrows and swallows, that fly beneath the vault of heaven. He despised them and looked upon them as little twittering birds that were made only to sing. The pigeons, he admitted, were large and shone in the sun like mother-of-pearl. They somewhat resembled weather-vanes, but were fat and stupid and thought only of stuffing themselves with food. "Besides," said the weather-vane, "they are very tiresome things to converse with."
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<br>The birds of passage often paid a visit to the weather-vane and told him tales of foreign lands, of large flocks passing through the air, and of encounters with robbers and birds of prey. These were very interesting when heard for the first time, but the weather-vane knew the birds always repeated themselves, and that made it tedious to listen.
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<br>"Stork, stork, fly away;
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<br>"They are tedious, and so is everyone else," said he; "there is no one fit to associate with. One and all of them are wearisome and stupid. The whole world is worth nothing—it is made up of stupidity."
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<br>Stand not on one leg to-day.
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<br>The weather-vane was what is called "lofty," and that quality alone would have made him interesting in the eyes of the Cucumber, had she known it. But she had eyes only for the yard rooster, who had actually made his appearance in her yard; for the violence of the storm had passed, but the wind had blown down the wooden palings.
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<br>Thy dear wife sits in the nest,
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<br>"What do you think of that for crowing?" asked the yard rooster of his hens and chickens. It was rather rough, and wanted elegance, but they did not say so, as they stepped upon the dunghill while the rooster strutted about as if he had been a knight. "Garden plant," he cried to the Cucumber. She heard the words with deep feeling, for they showed that he understood who she was, and she forgot that he was pecking at her and eating her up—a happy death!
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<br>To lull the little ones to rest.
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<br>Then the hens came running up, and the chickens followed, for where one runs the rest run also. They clucked and chirped and looked at the rooster and were proud that they belonged to him. "cuck-a-doodle-doo!" crowed he; "the chickens in the poultry-yard will grow to be large fowls if I make my voice heard in the world."
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<br>And the hens and chickens clucked and chirped, and the rooster told them a great piece of news. "A rooster can lay an egg," he said. "And what do you think is in that egg? In that egg lies a basilisk. No one can endure the sight of a basilisk. Men know my power, and now you know what I am capable of, also, and what a renowned bird I am." And with this the yard rooster flapped his wings, erected his comb, and crowed again, till all the hens and chickens trembled; but they were proud that one of their race should be of such renown in the world. They clucked and they chirped so that the weather-vane heard it; he had heard it all, but had not stirred.
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<br>"There's a halter for one,
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<br>"It's all stupid stuff," said a voice within the weather-vane. "The yard rooster does not lay eggs any more than I do, and I am too lazy. I could lay a wind egg if I liked, but the world is not worth a wind egg. And now I don't intend to sit here any longer."
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<br>There's a stake for another,
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<br>With that, the weather-vane broke off and fell into the yard. He did not kill the yard rooster, although the hens said he intended to do so.
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<br>For the third there's a oven,
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<br>And what does the moral say? "Better to crow than to be vainglorious and break down at last."
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<br>And a chase for his brother!"
 
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<br><br>"Only listen," said the young storks, "to what the boys are singing. Do you hear them say we're to be chased and eaten?"
 
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<br>"Don't listen to what they say; if you don't mind, it won't hurt you," said the mother.
 
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<br>But the boys went on singing, and pointed mockingly at the sentinel stork. Only one boy, whom they called Peter, said it was a shame to make game of animals, and he would not join in the singing at all.
 
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<br>The mother stork tried to comfort her young ones. "Don't mind them," she said; "see how quiet your father stands on one leg there."
 
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<br>"But we are afraid," said the little ones, drawing back their beaks into the nest.
 
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<br>The children assembled again on the next day, and no sooner did they see the storks than they again began their song:
 
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<br>"The first will be eaten, The second be hit."
 
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<br>"Tell us, are we to be chased or eaten?" asked the young storks.
 
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<br>"No, no; certainly not," replied the mother. "You are to learn to fly, and then we shall pay a visit to the frogs. They will bow to us in the water and sing 'Croak! croak!' and we shall eat them up, and that will be a great treat."
 
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<br>"And then what?" questioned the young storks.
 
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<br>"Oh, then all the storks in the land will assemble, and the autumn sports will begin; only then one must be able to fly well, for that is very important. Whoever does not fly as he should will be pierced to death by the general's beak, so mind that you learn well, when the drill begins."
 
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<br>"Yes, but then, after that, we shall be killed, as the boys say. Hark! they are singing it again."
 
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<br>"Attend to me and not to them," said the mother stork. "After the great review we shall fly away to warm countries, far from here, over hills and forests. To Egypt we shall fly, where are the three-cornered houses of stone, one point of which reaches to the clouds; they are called pyramids and are older than a stork can imagine. In that same land there is a river which overflows its banks and turns the whole country into mire. We shall go into the mire and eat frogs."
 
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<br>"Oh! oh!" exclaimed all the youngsters.
 
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<br>"Yes, it is indeed a delightful place. We need do nothing all day long but eat; and while we are feasting there so comfortably, in this country there is not a green leaf left on the trees. It is so cold here that the very clouds freeze in lumps or fall down in little white rags." It was hail and snow that she meant, but she did not know how to say it better.
 
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<br>"And will the naughty boys freeze in lumps?" asked the young storks.
 
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<br>"No, they will not freeze in lumps, but they will come near it, and they will sit moping and cowering in gloomy rooms while you are flying about in foreign lands, amid bright flowers and warm sunshine."
 
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<br>Some time passed, and the nestlings had grown so large and strong that they could stand upright in the nest and look all about them. Every day the father stork came with delicious frogs, nice little snakes, and other such dainties that storks delight in. How funny it was to see the clever feats he performed to amuse them! He would lay his head right round upon his tail; and sometimes he would clatter with his beak, as if it were a little rattle; or he would tell them stories, all relating to swamps and fens.
 
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<br>"Come, children," said the mother stork one day, "now you must learn to fly." And all the four young storks had to go out on the ridge of the roof. How they did totter and stagger about! They tried to balance themselves with their wings, but came very near falling to the ground.
 
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<br>"Look at me!" said the mother. "This is the way to hold your head. And thus you must place[34] your feet. Left! right! left! right! that's what will help you on in the world."
 
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<br>Then she flew a little way, and the young ones took a clumsy little leap. Bump! plump! down they fell, for their bodies were still too heavy for them.
 
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<br>"I will not fly," said one of the young storks, as he crept back to the nest. "I don't care about going to warm countries."
 

Revision as of 22:12, 26 May 2020

Hello Students, read the below article then on your own webpage on www.goodtoknow.com, write a short constructed response using "R-A-C-E-" as instructed in class.

      What do you think was the author's purpose in writing the story?
      Use at least two details from the passage to support your response.


THE FARMYARD ROOSTER AND THE WEATHER ROOSTER


THERE were once two roosters; one of them stood on a dunghill, the other on the roof. Both were conceited, but the question is, Which of the two was the more useful? A wooden partition divided the poultry-yard from another yard, in which lay a heap of manure sheltering a cucumber bed. In this bed grew a large cucumber, which was fully aware that it was a plant that should be reared in a hotbed.
"It is the privilege of birth," said the Cucumber to itself. "All cannot be born cucumbers; there must be other kinds as well. The fowls, the ducks, and the cattle in the next yard are all different creatures, and there is the yard rooster—I can look up to him when he is on the wooden partition. He is certainly of much greater importance than the weather-vane, who is so highly placed, and who can't even creak, much less crow—besides, he has neither hens nor chickens, and thinks only of himself, and perspires verdigris. But the yard rooster is something like a rooster. His gait is like a dance, and his crowing is music, and wherever he goes it is instantly known. What a trumpeter he is! If he would only come in here! Even if he were to eat me up, stalk and all, it would be a pleasant death." So said the Cucumber.
During the night the weather became very bad; hens, chickens, and even the rooster himself sought shelter. The wind blew down with a crash the partition between the two yards, and the tiles came tumbling from the roof, but the weather-vane stood firm. He did not even turn round; in fact, he could not, although he was fresh and newly cast. He had been born full-grown and did not at all resemble the birds, such as the sparrows and swallows, that fly beneath the vault of heaven. He despised them and looked upon them as little twittering birds that were made only to sing. The pigeons, he admitted, were large and shone in the sun like mother-of-pearl. They somewhat resembled weather-vanes, but were fat and stupid and thought only of stuffing themselves with food. "Besides," said the weather-vane, "they are very tiresome things to converse with."
The birds of passage often paid a visit to the weather-vane and told him tales of foreign lands, of large flocks passing through the air, and of encounters with robbers and birds of prey. These were very interesting when heard for the first time, but the weather-vane knew the birds always repeated themselves, and that made it tedious to listen.
"They are tedious, and so is everyone else," said he; "there is no one fit to associate with. One and all of them are wearisome and stupid. The whole world is worth nothing—it is made up of stupidity."
The weather-vane was what is called "lofty," and that quality alone would have made him interesting in the eyes of the Cucumber, had she known it. But she had eyes only for the yard rooster, who had actually made his appearance in her yard; for the violence of the storm had passed, but the wind had blown down the wooden palings.
"What do you think of that for crowing?" asked the yard rooster of his hens and chickens. It was rather rough, and wanted elegance, but they did not say so, as they stepped upon the dunghill while the rooster strutted about as if he had been a knight. "Garden plant," he cried to the Cucumber. She heard the words with deep feeling, for they showed that he understood who she was, and she forgot that he was pecking at her and eating her up—a happy death!
Then the hens came running up, and the chickens followed, for where one runs the rest run also. They clucked and chirped and looked at the rooster and were proud that they belonged to him. "cuck-a-doodle-doo!" crowed he; "the chickens in the poultry-yard will grow to be large fowls if I make my voice heard in the world."
And the hens and chickens clucked and chirped, and the rooster told them a great piece of news. "A rooster can lay an egg," he said. "And what do you think is in that egg? In that egg lies a basilisk. No one can endure the sight of a basilisk. Men know my power, and now you know what I am capable of, also, and what a renowned bird I am." And with this the yard rooster flapped his wings, erected his comb, and crowed again, till all the hens and chickens trembled; but they were proud that one of their race should be of such renown in the world. They clucked and they chirped so that the weather-vane heard it; he had heard it all, but had not stirred.
"It's all stupid stuff," said a voice within the weather-vane. "The yard rooster does not lay eggs any more than I do, and I am too lazy. I could lay a wind egg if I liked, but the world is not worth a wind egg. And now I don't intend to sit here any longer."
With that, the weather-vane broke off and fell into the yard. He did not kill the yard rooster, although the hens said he intended to do so.
And what does the moral say? "Better to crow than to be vainglorious and break down at last."