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Leonardo Da Vinci

(1) On the sunny slopes of Monte Albano, between Florence and Pisa, the little town of Vinci lay high among the rocks that crowned the steep hillside. Here in the year 1452 Leonardo, son of Ser Piero da Vinci, was born. It was in the age when people told fortunes by the stars, and when a baby was born they would eagerly look up and decide whether it was a lucky or unlucky star which shone upon the child. Surely if it had been possible in this way to tell what fortune waited the little Leonardo, a strange new star must have shone that night, brighter than the others and unlike the rest in the dazzling light of its strength and beauty.

(2) Leonardo was always a strange child. Even his beauty was not like that of other children. He had the most wonderful waving hair, falling in regular ripples, like the waters of a fountain, the color of bright gold, and soft as spun silk. His eyes were blue and clear, with a mysterious light in them, not the warm light of a sunny sky, but rather the blue that glints in the iceberg. They were merry eyes too, when he laughed, but underneath was always that strange cold look. There was a charm about his smile which no one could resist, and he was a favorite with all. Yet people shook their heads sometimes as they looked at him, and they talked in whispers of the old witch who had lent her goat to nourish the little Leonardo when he was a baby. The woman was a dealer in black magic, and who knew but that the child might be a changeling?

(3) It was the old grandmother, Mona Lena, who brought Leonardo up and spoilt him not a little. His father, Ser Piero, was a lawyer, and spent most of his time in Florence, but when he returned to the old castle of Vinci, he began to give Leonardo lessons and tried to find out what the boy was fit for. But Leonardo hated those lessons and would not learn, so when he was seven years old he was sent to school.

(4) This did not answer any better. The rough play of the boys was not to his liking. When he saw them drag the wings off butterflies, or torture any animal that fell into their hands, his face grew white with pain, and he would take no share in their games. The Latin grammar, too, was a terrible task, while the many things he longed to know no one taught him.

(5) So it happened that many a time, instead of going to school, he would slip away and escape up into the hills, as happy as a little wild goat. Here was all the sweet fresh air of heaven, instead of the stuffy school room. Here were no cruel, clumsy boys, but all the wild creatures that he loved. Here he could learn the real things his heart was hungry to know, not merely words which meant nothing and led to nowhere.

(6) For hours he would lie perfectly still with his heels in the air and his chin resting in his hands, as he watched a spider weaving its web, breathless with interest to see how the delicate threads were turned in and out. The gaily painted butterflies, the fat buzzing bees, the little sharp-tongued green lizards, he loved to watch them all, but above everything he loved the birds. Oh, if only he too had wings to dart like the swallows, and swoop and sail and dart again! What was the secret power in their wings? Surely by watching he might learn it. Sometimes it seemed as if his heart would burst with the longing to learn that secret. It was always the hidden reason of things that he desired to know. Much as he loved the flowers he must pull their petals off, one by one, to see how each was joined, to wonder at the dusty pollen, and touch the honey-covered stamens. Then when the sun began to sink he would turn sadly homewards, very hungry, with torn clothes and tired feet, but with a store of sunshine in his heart.

(7) His grandmother shook her head when Leonardo appeared after one of his days of wandering.

(8) `I know thou should be whipped for playing truant,' she said; `and I should also punish thee for tearing thy clothes.'

(9) `Ah! But thou wilt not whip me,' answered Leonardo, smiling at her with his curious quiet smile, for he had full confidence in her love.

(10) `Well, I love to see thee happy, and I will not punish thee this time,' said his grandmother; `but if these tales reach thy father's ears, he will not be as tender as I am towards thee.'

(11) And, sure enough, the very next time that a complaint was made from the school, his father happened to be at home, and then the storm burst.

(12) `Next time I will flog thee,' said Ser Piero sternly, with rising anger at the careless air of the boy. `Meanwhile we will see what a little imprisonment will do towards making thee a better child'.

(13) Then he took the boy by the shoulders and led him to a little dark cupboard under the stairs, and there shut him up for three whole days.

(14) There was no kicking or beating at the locked door. Leonardo sat quietly there in the dark, thinking his own thoughts, and wondering why there seemed so little justice in the world. But soon even that wonder passed away, and as usual when he was alone he began to dream dreams of the time when he should have learned the swallows' secrets and should have wings like theirs.

(15) But if there were complaints about Leonardo's dislike of the boys and the Latin grammar, there would be none about the lessons he chose to learn. Indeed, some of the masters began to dread the boy's eager questions, which were sometimes more than they could answer. Scarcely had he begun the study of arithmetic than he made such rapid progress, and wanted to puzzle out so many problems, that the masters were amazed. His mind seemed always eagerly asking for more light, and was never satisfied.

Which of the following statements best sums up what is meant by mentioned in 6th paragraph ("Much as he loved the flowers he must pull their petals off, one by one, to see how each was joined, to wonder at the dusty pollen, and touch the honey-covered stamens")?

Leonardo Da Vinci

(1) On the sunny slopes of Monte Albano, between Florence and Pisa, the little town of Vinci lay high among the rocks that crowned the steep hillside. Here in the year 1452 Leonardo, son of Ser Piero da Vinci, was born. It was in the age when people told fortunes by the stars, and when a baby was born they would eagerly look up and decide whether it was a lucky or unlucky star which shone upon the child. Surely if it had been possible in this way to tell what fortune waited the little Leonardo, a strange new star must have shone that night, brighter than the others and unlike the rest in the dazzling light of its strength and beauty.

(2) Leonardo was always a strange child. Even his beauty was not like that of other children. He had the most wonderful waving hair, falling in regular ripples, like the waters of a fountain, the color of bright gold, and soft as spun silk. His eyes were blue and clear, with a mysterious light in them, not the warm light of a sunny sky, but rather the blue that glints in the iceberg. They were merry eyes too, when he laughed, but underneath was always that strange cold look. There was a charm about his smile which no one could resist, and he was a favorite with all. Yet people shook their heads sometimes as they looked at him, and they talked in whispers of the old witch who had lent her goat to nourish the little Leonardo when he was a baby. The woman was a dealer in black magic, and who knew but that the child might be a changeling?

(3) It was the old grandmother, Mona Lena, who brought Leonardo up and spoilt him not a little. His father, Ser Piero, was a lawyer, and spent most of his time in Florence, but when he returned to the old castle of Vinci, he began to give Leonardo lessons and tried to find out what the boy was fit for. But Leonardo hated those lessons and would not learn, so when he was seven years old he was sent to school.

(4) This did not answer any better. The rough play of the boys was not to his liking. When he saw them drag the wings off butterflies, or torture any animal that fell into their hands, his face grew white with pain, and he would take no share in their games. The Latin grammar, too, was a terrible task, while the many things he longed to know no one taught him.

(5) So it happened that many a time, instead of going to school, he would slip away and escape up into the hills, as happy as a little wild goat. Here was all the sweet fresh air of heaven, instead of the stuffy school room. Here were no cruel, clumsy boys, but all the wild creatures that he loved. Here he could learn the real things his heart was hungry to know, not merely words which meant nothing and led to nowhere.

(6) For hours he would lie perfectly still with his heels in the air and his chin resting in his hands, as he watched a spider weaving its web, breathless with interest to see how the delicate threads were turned in and out. The gaily painted butterflies, the fat buzzing bees, the little sharp-tongued green lizards, he loved to watch them all, but above everything he loved the birds. Oh, if only he too had wings to dart like the swallows, and swoop and sail and dart again! What was the secret power in their wings? Surely by watching he might learn it. Sometimes it seemed as if his heart would burst with the longing to learn that secret. It was always the hidden reason of things that he desired to know. Much as he loved the flowers he must pull their petals off, one by one, to see how each was joined, to wonder at the dusty pollen, and touch the honey-covered stamens. Then when the sun began to sink he would turn sadly homewards, very hungry, with torn clothes and tired feet, but with a store of sunshine in his heart.

(7) His grandmother shook her head when Leonardo appeared after one of his days of wandering.

(8) `I know thou should be whipped for playing truant,' she said; `and I should also punish thee for tearing thy clothes.'

(9) `Ah! But thou wilt not whip me,' answered Leonardo, smiling at her with his curious quiet smile, for he had full confidence in her love.

(10) `Well, I love to see thee happy, and I will not punish thee this time,' said his grandmother; `but if these tales reach thy father's ears, he will not be as tender as I am towards thee.'

(11) And, sure enough, the very next time that a complaint was made from the school, his father happened to be at home, and then the storm burst.

(12) `Next time I will flog thee,' said Ser Piero sternly, with rising anger at the careless air of the boy. `Meanwhile we will see what a little imprisonment will do towards making thee a better child'.

(13) Then he took the boy by the shoulders and led him to a little dark cupboard under the stairs, and there shut him up for three whole days.

(14) There was no kicking or beating at the locked door. Leonardo sat quietly there in the dark, thinking his own thoughts, and wondering why there seemed so little justice in the world. But soon even that wonder passed away, and as usual when he was alone he began to dream dreams of the time when he should have learned the swallows' secrets and should have wings like theirs.

(15) But if there were complaints about Leonardo's dislike of the boys and the Latin grammar, there would be none about the lessons he chose to learn. Indeed, some of the masters began to dread the boy's eager questions, which were sometimes more than they could answer. Scarcely had he begun the study of arithmetic than he made such rapid progress, and wanted to puzzle out so many problems, that the masters were amazed. His mind seemed always eagerly asking for more light, and was never satisfied.

When Leonardo's father punished him, his reaction could be best described as:

Leonardo Da Vinci

(1) On the sunny slopes of Monte Albano, between Florence and Pisa, the little town of Vinci lay high among the rocks that crowned the steep hillside. Here in the year 1452 Leonardo, son of Ser Piero da Vinci, was born. It was in the age when people told fortunes by the stars, and when a baby was born they would eagerly look up and decide whether it was a lucky or unlucky star which shone upon the child. Surely if it had been possible in this way to tell what fortune waited the little Leonardo, a strange new star must have shone that night, brighter than the others and unlike the rest in the dazzling light of its strength and beauty.

(2) Leonardo was always a strange child. Even his beauty was not like that of other children. He had the most wonderful waving hair, falling in regular ripples, like the waters of a fountain, the color of bright gold, and soft as spun silk. His eyes were blue and clear, with a mysterious light in them, not the warm light of a sunny sky, but rather the blue that glints in the iceberg. They were merry eyes too, when he laughed, but underneath was always that strange cold look. There was a charm about his smile which no one could resist, and he was a favorite with all. Yet people shook their heads sometimes as they looked at him, and they talked in whispers of the old witch who had lent her goat to nourish the little Leonardo when he was a baby. The woman was a dealer in black magic, and who knew but that the child might be a changeling?

(3) It was the old grandmother, Mona Lena, who brought Leonardo up and spoilt him not a little. His father, Ser Piero, was a lawyer, and spent most of his time in Florence, but when he returned to the old castle of Vinci, he began to give Leonardo lessons and tried to find out what the boy was fit for. But Leonardo hated those lessons and would not learn, so when he was seven years old he was sent to school.

(4) This did not answer any better. The rough play of the boys was not to his liking. When he saw them drag the wings off butterflies, or torture any animal that fell into their hands, his face grew white with pain, and he would take no share in their games. The Latin grammar, too, was a terrible task, while the many things he longed to know no one taught him.

(5) So it happened that many a time, instead of going to school, he would slip away and escape up into the hills, as happy as a little wild goat. Here was all the sweet fresh air of heaven, instead of the stuffy school room. Here were no cruel, clumsy boys, but all the wild creatures that he loved. Here he could learn the real things his heart was hungry to know, not merely words which meant nothing and led to nowhere.

(6) For hours he would lie perfectly still with his heels in the air and his chin resting in his hands, as he watched a spider weaving its web, breathless with interest to see how the delicate threads were turned in and out. The gaily painted butterflies, the fat buzzing bees, the little sharp-tongued green lizards, he loved to watch them all, but above everything he loved the birds. Oh, if only he too had wings to dart like the swallows, and swoop and sail and dart again! What was the secret power in their wings? Surely by watching he might learn it. Sometimes it seemed as if his heart would burst with the longing to learn that secret. It was always the hidden reason of things that he desired to know. Much as he loved the flowers he must pull their petals off, one by one, to see how each was joined, to wonder at the dusty pollen, and touch the honey-covered stamens. Then when the sun began to sink he would turn sadly homewards, very hungry, with torn clothes and tired feet, but with a store of sunshine in his heart.

(7) His grandmother shook her head when Leonardo appeared after one of his days of wandering.

(8) `I know thou should be whipped for playing truant,' she said; `and I should also punish thee for tearing thy clothes.'

(9) `Ah! But thou wilt not whip me,' answered Leonardo, smiling at her with his curious quiet smile, for he had full confidence in her love.

(10) `Well, I love to see thee happy, and I will not punish thee this time,' said his grandmother; `but if these tales reach thy father's ears, he will not be as tender as I am towards thee.'

(11) And, sure enough, the very next time that a complaint was made from the school, his father happened to be at home, and then the storm burst.

(12) `Next time I will flog thee,' said Ser Piero sternly, with rising anger at the careless air of the boy. `Meanwhile we will see what a little imprisonment will do towards making thee a better child'.

(13) Then he took the boy by the shoulders and led him to a little dark cupboard under the stairs, and there shut him up for three whole days.

(14) There was no kicking or beating at the locked door. Leonardo sat quietly there in the dark, thinking his own thoughts, and wondering why there seemed so little justice in the world. But soon even that wonder passed away, and as usual when he was alone he began to dream dreams of the time when he should have learned the swallows' secrets and should have wings like theirs.

(15) But if there were complaints about Leonardo's dislike of the boys and the Latin grammar, there would be none about the lessons he chose to learn. Indeed, some of the masters began to dread the boy's eager questions, which were sometimes more than they could answer. Scarcely had he begun the study of arithmetic than he made such rapid progress, and wanted to puzzle out so many problems, that the masters were amazed. His mind seemed always eagerly asking for more light, and was never satisfied.

According to the passage, one reason Leonardo skipped school was:

Migration of Birds

(1) The changing picture of bird populations throughout the year intrigues those who are observant and who wish to know the source and destination of these birds. While many species of fish, mammals, and even insects undertake amazing migratory journeys, birds as a group are the most mobile creatures on Earth. Even humans with their many vehicles of locomotion do not equal some birds in mobility. No human population moves each year as far as from the Arctic to the Antarctic with subsequent return, yet the Arctic Terns do.

(2) Birds are adapted in their body structure and physiology to life in the air. Their feathered wings and tails, bones, lungs and air sacs, and their metabolic abilities all contribute to this amazing faculty. These adaptations make it possible for birds to seek out environments most favorable to their needs at different times of the year. This results in the marvelous phenomenon we know as migration ­ the regular, recurrent, seasonal movement of populations from one geographic location to another and back again.

(3) Throughout human experience, migratory birds have been important as a source of food after a lean winter and as the harbinger of a change in seasons. The arrival of certain species has been heralded with appropriate ceremonies in many lands. Among the eskimos and other tribes this phenomenon is the accepted sign of the imminence of spring, of warmer weather, and a reprieve from winter food shortages. The European fur traders in Alaska and Canada offered rewards to the Native American who saw the first flight of geese in the spring, and all joined in jubilant welcome to the newcomers.

(4) As North America became more thickly settled, the large flocks of ducks and geese, as well as migratory rails, doves, and woodcock that had been hunted for food became objects of the enthusiastic attention of an increasing army of sportsmen. Most of the nongame species were also found to be valuable as allies of the farmer in his never-ending confrontation against insect pests and weed seeds. And in more recent years, all species have been of ever-increasing recreational and esthetic value for untold numbers of people who enjoy watching birds. We soon realized that our migratory bird resource was an international legacy that could not be managed alone by one state or country and that all nations were responsible for its well-being. The need for laws protecting game and nongame birds, as well as the necessity to regulate the hunting of diminishing game species, followed as a natural consequence. In the management of this wildlife resource, it has become obvious that studies must be made of the species' habits, environmental needs, and travels. In the United States, the Department of the Interior recognized the value of this resource and is devoted to programs that will ensure sustainability for these populations as they are faced with the impacts of alteration in land use, loss of habitat, and contaminants from our technological society. Hence bird investigations are made by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the arm of the Department of Interior charged by Congress under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act with the duty of protecting those avian species that in their yearly journeys pass back and forth between United States and other countries. In addition, the federal government through the activities of the Biological Resources Division of the U.S. Geological Survey also promotes basic research on migration. Federal agencies cooperate with their counterparts in other countries as well as with state agencies, academic institutions, and non-governmental groups to gain understanding and for the protection of migratory species through such endeavors as Partners in Flight, a broadly based international cooperative effort in the Western Hemisphere.

(5) For almost a century the Fish and Wildlife Service and its predecessor, the Biological Survey, have been collecting data on the important details of bird migration. Scientists have gathered information concerning the distribution and seasonal movements of many species throughout the Western Hemisphere, from the Arctic Archipelago south to Tierra del Fuego. Supplementing these investigations is the work of hundreds of United States, Latin American, and Canadian university personnel and volunteer birdwatchers, who report on the migrations and status of birds as observed in their respective localities. This data, stored in field notes, computer files, and scientific journals, constitute an enormous reservoir of information pertaining to the distribution and movements of North American birds. The purpose of this publication is to summarize this data and additional information from other parts of the world to present the more important facts about our current understanding of the fascinating subject of bird migration. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is grateful to the many people who have contributed their knowledge so that others, whether in biology or ornithology classes, members of conservation organizations, or just individuals interested in the welfare of the birds, may understand and enjoy this precious resource as well as preserve it for generations to come.

The migratory path of the Arctic Tern: