This is a biography I wrote about an oriel (none in particular). Enjoy!
“Hello, I am an small oriel, this is my story.”
“I was born in a nest with two other little birds. They were not very smart because they tried to fly before they were old enough. They went smash on the hard ground.
I learned to fly when I was 6 weeks too young. Mom said it was very easy but after what happened to my brothers I wasn’t convinced. I hopped out of the nest to learn to fly. At first, I could only fly down. I think I broke my perdy tail twice. On the 500th flight I finally went up.
My mom sang beautifully to me but when I tried it came out, “peek shriek meek!” I finally got the hang of singing beautifully.
I spent my summer with my mom taking careful care of my new siblings. All they did was eat lost of food.
The flight south was hard and treacherous. I finally made it to the wonderful south.
The difference between north and south according to me is north is colder than south and when one is cold the other is hot.
Winter in the south I don’t see much of because I am fling fast to the north for summer in the north.
The return north is no more difficult than the trip south. It is rather annoying to me because it feels like the world is playing ping-pong with you.
All the little children lovingly call me, “Little Boidy.” The cute bird intolerant grown-ups call me “Disease!”
One day I was happily tweeting along to my nest when I saw, “it!” “It,” was big. “It,” was fast. "It," was a bird eating cat!
“Come down here,” the cat said flatteringly. “Come down here and play joyfully with me.”
“No way. I am no dumb bird,” I said bravely.
“Fine,” said the cat, “Then I will come up there myself into that wobbly tree.”
“Good-bye,” I said to the strange cat. I flew away happily and gleefully. Then I safely made it into my wonderful nest.