[Beginnings]
“Can you tell me a story of Gus?” asked the Child.
“Gus the Raven?” asked the Mom.
"Yes, a story of Gus the Raven,” said the Child.
“It’s a bit of a long story,” said the Mom, smiling. “Have you brushed your teeth?”
“Yes, yes,” said the Child, flashing his white teeth with a wide-open mouth.
“And you’ve put on your pajamas?”
“Yes, yes!” said the Child, dancing in his red and black checkered jammies.
“And everything is ready for your first day of school?”
“YES!” said the Child, brimming with delight, pointing to his packed backpack by the front door.
“Okay then. Well. It looks like you’re ready, little one. Let’s walk up to bed, and I can tell you a story of Gus.”
“Can Dinah come? Dinah wants to hear a story of Gus the Raven, too,” asked the Child, pointing to their grey cat curled up near the foot of the stairs.
“Of course. Dinah can come too,” said the Mom.
Hand in hand, the Mom and the Child walked up the stairs with Dinah following close behind. The Child yawned, and the Mom smiled, and they both went to his room. The Child crawled into his bed while the Mom perched on the side. Dinah walked in behind them and curled into a tight ball at the foot of the bed, one eye remaining open.
“Should we start where we last left off? Or would you like to start at the beginning?” asked the Mom.
“The beginning,” said the Child. “Please.”
“Okay then,” the Mom said. She then kissed the Child on the forehead, tucked the topsheet in snug and lay down next to him.
“Let’s start at the beginning, as all beginnings do.
Gus the Raven was born in the large oak tree next to the old merry-go-round in the big park in the middle of the city. Gus was named Gustav Frederik Sigatur XV after his father, Gustav Frederik Sigatur XIV. Everyone called him Gus.
Gus’ mother, Josephine Francesca Louise VIII, laid a single egg one unseasonably hot spring. Both Josephine and Gustav took great care of that egg and waited with anticipation for their little one to be born. They had descended from lines of great ravens, and wished the same for their little one. That he may become a great raven of the park, someone admired and known among other groups of ravens throughout the city.
(“No well-meaning group of ravens would ever call themselves a ‘conspiracy’,” said the Mom to herself.
“A conspiracy?” asked the Child.
“It’s an old term people use to talk about ravens. Those who do know of their intelligence but not of their kindness. Now where was I…”)
When Gus finally arrived that spring, poking aggressively through his shell, he was small, smaller than either Gustav or Josephine had expected. Gus had a slightly crooked beak that curved to the left and a small right wing. He chirped loudly, announcing his existence in the world. His parents loved him more than they could ever imagine.
As Gus grew, he kept his crooked beak and small right wing. As his parents had feared, he had trouble flying like the other young ravens his age, the ones who began to play high above across the city skyline. Gus would sometimes spend hours looking up from the comfort of his parents' nest in the big oak tree, looking longingly towards the black loops made by other ravens, each making their own unique pattern in the sky.
“Why can’t I fly like the rest of them?” asked Gus of his two parents. “Why can’t I fly like the two of you?”
“You were born slightly different, little one, born with something special. It may take more time for you to learn,” said his mother.
“I don’t want to be different. I don’t want to be special,” said Gus.
“It may be painful for you today to not be able to fly and dive so quickly like the others,” said his father. “But your wing is something special, just like all of you. Keep trying. Keep playing. Keep going.”
Young Gus listened to his parents and tried and tried and tried again. Each day he would attempt to fly from a new location. Sometimes he would attempt flight in the morning, right as the sun hit his nest, away from the cats and rodents of the city.
(“The cats of the city tended to leave Gus, Gustav, Josephine and their fellow ravens alone,” the Mom added.
“That’s good,” said the Child.
Dinah appeared to nod along.)
Gus would puff up his chest and flap with vigor. His left side would begin to gain some power. His legs would lift off the ground momentarily. His small right wing would flap as quickly as it could, but because of its small size, could never develop the power Gus needed. Inevitably, Gus would become off-balance, would flip twice mid-air and fall hard on his side.
Other times Gus would attempt to glide. Once he jumped on the top of the white pony on the merry-go-round, perching on its tail while it bobbed up and down to the music, narrowly avoiding the shooing of the children’s hands also on the ride. Gus flung himself upward with the ride’s momentum, trying his best to avoid landing on a little girl's shoulder who began to scream when she noticed Gus was sharing her pony. He flapped hard, hoping the ride’s speed would allow for liftoff, yet he came gliding awkwardly down, avoiding a hard crash near the pavement and ran away back toward the oak tree, back to the safety of his nest.
A raven that can’t fly faces a curious predicament. How was Gus to move in the world? How was he to catch food like the others? How was he to play with the other young ravens?
Ever determined (and you know how determined our Gus can be), Gus managed just the same. He learned how to jump, coiling his body tightly and then - bang - expanding upwards. Gus learned that with his two legs, he could jump wherever he desired. He jumped up into trees. Jumped high away from strange humans. Jumped into the city fountain for a quick bath.
Gus could also flip, spin and contort his body in miraculous ways. Gus could hug his small wing in close and, after a large jump, roll three times in the air - one, two, three - landing safely with ease and control. He learned to play and dance with himself on the ground, while the other young ravens played and danced in the air.
[The City]
“I’m ready to explore the city. It’s time for me to adventure,” Gus said to his parents one afternoon.
“Perhaps we could start with just a walk outside the park?” offered Josephine.
“Yes, I think I’d like that,” Gus responded. And so they went off.
Gustav, Josephine and Gus walked away from the park for the first time, down a large street lined with high buildings, loud cars and busy people. The whirl and commotion delighted Gus as he ran to keep up with his parents’ quick steps.
Gus walked on the cement sidewalk and edged closer to the buildings lined with glass windows. He craned his neck up. High above the cityscape, Gus saw bright blue sky and felt the warmth of the late spring, which seemed to hold Gus and encourage him to venture further in.
“Hurry now,” Josephine said a few paces ahead of her son. “You mustn’t get lost on our first outing in the city. We need to cross the street if we hope to make it anywhere today.”
Taxis, vans and other cars zoomed down the street, horns blaring. The sidewalk held more than its fair share of busy commuters, trying to dodge the three ravens that were patiently waiting for an opening to cross.
“Can we go now, Mom?” said Gus with impatience.
“No, Gus, it’s just a matter of time,” said Jospeshine. “See, now’s our opening. Let’s go.”
“Run, son, run!” grinned Gustav.
The three ravens began to run with a light jump in their step, crossing the two-lane road. Gus bounded forward. He could jump almost twice his height, as his parents ran to catch up.
Gus made it across first, his black feathers shimmering with excitement. His parents, seeing him arrive safely, spread their wings and flew to land next to Gus.
“How marvelous,” said Gus.
“There is much more to explore today,” said Gustav.
The three ravens made their way down the sidewalks of the city, taking in the exuberance of the day. They walked past the bodegas with their colorful wares. Past the coffee and bagel vendors selling “ham, egg and cheese.” Through the winding crowds of people who gave them room or did their best to avoid stepping on them. Past the dogs that barked and lunged at the ravens out of excitement at seeing them.
(“The dogs don’t catch them, do they?” asked the Child.
“You know they don’t, little one. Gus is too clever for the city dogs.”
Dinah, one eye still open, nodded along in agreement once again.)
[The Studio]
They had made it about seven blocks, seven further than Gus had ever explored, when they arrived at a large building with an open window on the second floor. A pleasant melody crept out to the sidewalk below. Gus was intrigued by the new sound.
“What’s that?” asked Gus.
“It sounds like a piano, little one,” Gustav said.
“A piano?”
Gustav paused, struggling to explain some of the curious human customs to his curious young raven. How to explain a large wooden case with strings and hammers that bellowed music from it, without being able to see it for yourself.
“Yes, a piano. An instrument used to create music, just like we use our voices to create music,” said Gustav.
“Can I see?” asked Gus.
“Yes, of course, little one,” said Gustav.
A group of people clustered near the building’s front entrance, whispering to one another, many holding a paper flyer that read “Tryouts.”
Gustav, ever determined to explore with his son, glanced past this group to find a means of climbing to the windowsill. He found a lone oak tree planted in the sidewalk, its limbs outstretched, reaching just short of the open window.
“This way, little one!” said Gustav, running over to the base of the tree.
Gus and Gustav began his ascent up the body of the oak tree. Gus jumped high, digging his claws and beak in such a way that he was able to balance for a moment and, with a breath, jump high up again. He repeated this, jumping up from small claw hold to small claw hold all the way until he safely arrived at the first large branch.
Higher up from the pavement, Gus could hear the piano even louder, so he crept carefully along the branch to get a closer look. The piano repeated a short motif, and as he drew closer to the window, Gus heard what sounded like quick footsteps. An energy emanated from the room, and Gus desired to get closer.
“Jump across to the windowsill,” shouted Josephine. “You can make it from there. You have got this.”
Gus, with great balance, thrust himself up in the air with enough momentum to land on the windowsill.
Perched at the window’s edge, Gus could see inside. A group of humans, similar to those in front of the building, stood upright before a series of large mirrors on finished hardwood floors. They wore tights, loose-fitting tops and bare feet, and they had an air of precision about them.
In the corner of the room sat a small baby grand piano, with a bald man sitting at attention, his hands on the white keys. By his side, a tall older man in an all-black outfit and glasses stood stiff, his hands and eyes darting between the different members of the room.
“Attention. Attention. We start the sequence again,” said the man dressed in black, his voice twinged with an air of authority.
The group of ten people hurried into two rows of five, evenly spaced in front of the mirrors. In unison, as if carried by a synchronous wave, they lifted their arms parallel to the floor in a circular position and held them there, awaiting the next cue.
“And three, two, one,” counted down the man dressed in black.
The piano player started in, playing an uptempo melody. The ten people began to hop in time, with a grace Gus had never seen before. As the music continued, they fanned out across the training room, prancing and moving, the lines of their bodies both exact and fluid.
“Their dancing,” said Gustav, who, along with Josephine, had flown up to see what had so enraptured their son.
“Dancing,” said Gus.
“Yes, dancing. Just as you dance, little one,” said Josephine.
The tempo of the music increased, and with it, the speed of the dancer’s movements. Several of the dancers began to jump, legs opening into the air and closing with a gentle landing. Upon each dancer's hop, Gus let out a chirp followed by a bright chirp.
His parents started smiling, as only ravens can. Gustav let out a chuckle.
The piano player played three loud, decisive chords, and the dancers, who had fanned out throughout the practice room, danced their way back to the formation they started in. In sequence, they fell to the ground, and the piano stopped. Gus stopped jumping, too and listened closely. He could hear the light panting of the dancers and his heartbeat racing. Gus felt quiet and good.
“Bravo. That was the best audition yet!” explained the man in black. He clapped twice. “Let’s try that once again for good measure. From the top.”
Gus was delighted. What had he just witnessed? He began hopping again to the sound of the piano as the dancers fanned out throughout the room. The young raven began to chirp and chirp as if possessed. His small right arm moved widely, and his legs shook from side to side. He jumped so intensely that he almost lost his balance, and his father thrust out a wing to steady him.
“There there, Gus. Be careful of this ledge,” Gustav said.
Gus was barely listening. His chirping intensified into an inaudible stream his parents could not decipher.
While Gus chirped, the ten dancers, the pianist and the man dressed in black stopped and drifted towards the window to see the commotion coming outside. Gus continued his hopping and chirping as if in a trance.
“Some bird is losing it,” said one dancer.
“Should we close the window?” asked another.
“No, listen,” said the man dressed in black, who closed his eyes as the sounds of Gus began to overtake the rehearsal room, bouncing off each mirror. “Just listen for a moment. Close your eyes and listen. He’s making music. He’s making art.”
Each dancer closed their eyes at once to hear Gus better.
“Be careful, Gus. Be careful. Don’t fall. Mind your wing,” said Gustav and Josephine in almost unison.
Gus couldn’t hear his father’s or mother’s suggestions. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the city below or the sky above. He only hopped and chirped louder. His body began swaying to the music he himself was making, and he lost sense of his surroundings.
With his eyes closed, Gus jumped and danced and twirled and chirped and bobbed and weaved and flipped. He was just him, and today, right now, on his first adventure into the city, Gus wanted to dance. The windowsill was his stage, for this moment, and he was a willing performer.
At last, Gus stopped and opened his eyes.
(“And do you know what Gus saw?” said the Mom.
“Ten dancers, a pianist and a choreographer staring at him?” said the Child.
“Precisely,” smiled the Mom.)
[The Audition]
Gus paused and remained still. Gustav and Josephine remained still too, in case any movement might break the magic spell that had fallen upon this pack of strange creatures staring intently at their son.
All at once, the group broke into applause, all but the man in black, who held his hand to his chin and grinned slightly to himself.
“Bravo!” shouted one of the Dancers.
“Bravah,” shouted another.
“I can’t believe what we just saw,” said a third. “He can dance!”
“I saw him swaying to the music out of the corner of my eye before he really started going,” said the pianist. “He knows a thing or two.”
The dancers began to swarm the open window, extending their arms toward Gus. Gus remained still as they closed in. Gustav and Josephine edged forward, ready to fight this pack of humans if necessary to protect their boy.
“Stop at once,” shouted the man in black. “Make way. Make way.”
The dancers stopped rushing toward the window, letting the man in black strut to the windowsill, inches from Gus’ beak.
The man in black then stood upright, his feet turned out just over 90 degrees. Gus could see his fine mustache and goatee, his calm face and serious blue eyes. The man was like no human Gus had encountered before. And as Gus stared closer and harder, he could even make out himself in the man’s glasses. When Gus saw himself, he smiled. He looked wild. He looked joyous. He looked free.
“How do you do, little one?” said the man in black, bowing toward Gus.
Gus responded, bowing his crooked head lightly towards the man. Gustav and Josephine chirped on the branch, making their presence known.
“I see you have brought your family, little one,” said the man in black. “I respect that. I brought my mother with me on my first audition.”
"You would like to skip the line, I take it,” he said. “There was a sign-up board downstairs for tryouts for our dance company. You wouldn’t be the first to resort to creative means to impress me. Please, now. Come in. Don’t be shy.”
Gus looked back at his parents, who nodded.
“Go on, Gus. You’ve got this,” said Gustav.
“Do it Gus. The worst you can do is try,” said Josephine.
Gus jumped from the windowsill into the studio. Standing there, he realized he had never been inside a human building before. The ceiling rose high, and the group of dancers now seemed like giants to Gus, hovering over him as he paced to the middle.
The man in black read aloud from a white page and a clipboard.
“Today, Saturday, June 21st, the first of Summer, the Anna Pavlova School of Dramatic Arts is having its annual auditions for the principal dance company. Any type of dancer is welcome, so long as they have poise, body awareness, intelligent movement and creativity. Open tryouts, spots limited. References are required.”
The man in black pulled his glasses down to the brim of his nose and looked directly at Gus.
“Do you have any references?” he asked.
Gus didn’t know what references were or anything remotely related to the Anna Pavlova School of Dramatic Arts. Gus shook his head.
("Do birds shake their heads? asked the Child, now crouched in close to the Mom.
"Of course they do. How else do they say no?” said the Mom.
Dinah, who remained ever attentive to the story, nodded along, confirming her own firsthand experience that birds often shake their heads, not just for looking around, but when they have no interest in playing with Dinah herself.)
“Do you have an existing repertoire?” asked the man in black.
Gus shook his head to say, No. I have no existing repertoire.
“And you have no performance tape, I presume,” said the man dressed in black.
Gus vigorously shook his head. No, of course I have no taped performances. I’m a raven from the park. That is my background. That is what I am.
The man in black guffawed and began to grin.
(“Guffawed?” asked the Child.
With her hand on her stomach, the Mom shouted with her neck tucked, “Mwha ha ha ha ha!”
“Like Santa would laugh?” asked the Child.
“Yes, just like Santa,” said the Mom.)
“Well then, little raven, we’ll have to go based on sight alone. Please, take your spot towards the middle of the room,” he said, pointing just off to Gus’s right wing. “Since you can’t join the group session as you saw through the window, you’ll have only the solo audition. Three minutes. Alone. I can presume Tchaikovsky’s March from The Nutcracker should suffice.”
Gus hopped to the middle of the room, bowed, extending his arms like a matador greeting the bull at the beginning of a match.
“Very well, young raven. Chet,” he said, pointing to the piano player. “Guide him in on three.”
The group of circled dancers stepped back away from Gus to allow him the entire floor. Gustav and Josephine, having moved to sit perched at the open window, gave a light click to Gus, a voice of encouragement.
Chet, the pianist, turned around and held his hands at the edge of the ivory keys. On cue, he began, “Three, two, one.”
As the first chord rose from the piano strings, Gus immediately sprang into action. He extended his wings ever so slightly, holding them just up from his body. This gesture came naturally to Gus, as if some inner essence was expressing itself.
With his wings lifted and curved to touch in a circle, Gus began to hop foot to foot.
As Gus hopped from foot to foot, he began to twirl his arms, crossing them over his left and right, left and right. Gus began to churp in time with the music - bleerp bleerp bleerp- and he followed along as the pianist remained on time, pacing Gus through the piece.
Gus closed his eyes, not to hide but to muster something new from inside.
(“Gus is getting strong?”
“Yes, little one. Gus is getting strong,” said the Mom.
Dinah, who too had risen to hear what might happen to Gus, nodded one final time.)
Gus, then, began to bound across the room. Not a run nor a graceful dance, but a fury that he was attempting to get out. He ran and ran in a circle, getting ever wider. His audience narrowed in on him, as if they could see the fury rise inside the little raven. He circled and circled on the ground as the music paced faster. It was arriving at the crescendo, and Gus was spinning and spinning in his circle. Finally, Gus leaped with arms outstretched. He felt as if he were flying. He flapped once. Then twice. Movement in the air began. He flapped a third time. Gus could feel his body float. His parents wondered for a moment. Could this be his time to fly?
[The Encore]
And, as had happened many times before, Gus’s right wing began to flail, losing the coordination and strength that had propelled him upward. The speed of his momentum, which carried him in the air, soon propelled him fast into the hard wooden floors of the studio. Despite his best intentions and a final flap for good measure, Gus landed hard on his right side with a loud thud and skidded a few inches before he arrived at rest.
“Ouch,” said one dancer.
“Oh no,” said another.
“Is he hurt?” said one.
Gustav and Josephine looked on from outside the window, holding their breath, waiting for a response from their son.
“Just wait,” said the man in black. “Just wait. You can tell he’s thinking.”
The man in black was right. Gus was thinking. He was disappointed.
(“As you know, little one, our Gus can be disappointed too, just like you,” said the Mom.)
Was there a way to come back from such a dramatic thud? At the very same time, Gus felt proud of himself. He was a raven dancing among humans. How marvelous. How wild. How adventurous. On his first visit to the city.
Gus picked himself off the ground, using his left arm to nudge himself back up to his feet. Once on his feet, he gave a small chirp and bowed again, as if to inform his audience that, yes, he was okay and his routine was over.
The dancers let out a small cheer. The pianist played dramatic three chords in quick succession. Josephone and Gustav chirped through the window to celebrate their son.
The man in black walked to Gus and bent down to speak to him.
“A fine demonstration, little one,” he said. “Not every audition is perfect. Not every attempt is exactly what we want it to be. You showed heart and passion in my studio.”
Gus smiled and began walking back towards the window to greet his parents.
“Don’t forget,” said the man in black. “The list of call backs is posted outside our doors next Sunday.”
Gus turned and nodded in understanding as he greeted his beaming parents.
“Would you like us to take you home?” said Josephine. Her wings draped themselves around young Gus, her breast holding his tired body in close.
Gus nodded and remained quiet. With one claw each, Josephine and Gustav picked up Gus to fly back the seven blocks to the park they all knew as home. Gus, rather than look around, closed his eyes and pictured the ten dancers, the pianist, and the man in black once more. He saw them organized in the straight row, each pirouetting smoothly, in harmony with their own body, the body of their neighbor and the body of the whole group. Gus pictured himself at the end of this row, his legs in formation, joining them in the pirouette, his body turning and turning along with the dancers.
As his parents made their way over the buildings, over the streets, over the cars and people and dogs and construction and lights and noise, Gus dreamed of another time he could dance as he had done moments before.
When they landed smoothly back near the large oak tree and set Gus down with the gentlest of movements, both parents backed away to give Gus room to stand. They paused, expecting their gregarious boy would need to speak.
But Gus remained quiet when they landed. He nodded his crooked beak at both of them and turned around and trotted over to his nest.
As Gustav began to speak words of encouragement, trying to express the delight of seeing his son shine in the studio moment before, Josephine placed her wing on his shoulder.
“Let him be,” she said. “He’s had a big day and already a lot to think about.”
Gus closed his eyes once more, drifted off to sleep and dreamed a mighty dream of dance.
Gus’s name, of course, was not on the list of names hung on the wall of the doors to the Anna Pavlova School of Dramatic Arts the following Sunday.
(“What?!” said the Child.
Dinah meowed a ferocious meow.
“You both know the story!” protested the Mom.
“I know,” said the Child. "It still is disappointing each time. "
“He is a raven, after all,” said the Mom.
“But still,” protested the Child. “He’s Gus.”
“Yes, he is our Gus,” said the Mom.)
But Gus could see a letter resting on the right of the door in elaborate cursive that read “For The Little Raven.”
“Open it,” said Josephine, who, along with Gustav, had joined Gus for their second city adventure. Gus read it to himself.
“Dearest Young Raven,
First, may I say, congratulations on having made it this far. You are in the company of greats. Not everyone has the skills or the courage to audition for a dance company as renowned as ours.
Second, you didn’t see your name on our callback list. I take each auditioner as they come, bearing their own strengths and weaknesses, their own particularities. But you demonstrated great courage. And at times, you shared moments of transcendence with me. That is rare in an audition and rarer still from a creature like you.
Thirdly and of utmost importance, do not let this moment deter you. Our studio may not be ready for a creature like you. Keep dancing, keep practicing, keep growing. Perhaps I may see you around again. Another year or another time, when you are a bit older, and I am, perhaps, a bit wiser.
Until then.
Sincerely yours,
Mr. O’Conner”
Gus put down the letter and began to hop. And as he hopped, he chripped a little. And as he chripped, he began to sway. And as he swayed, he began to smile.
“Come on, little one,” said Josephine. “Let’s make our way back to the park. You said you’d show some of the other little Ravens your dance moves.”
“Yes!” chirped Gus. “Can I walk back on my own?”
“Of course, little one,” said Gustav. “As long as we can follow close behind.”
As Gus bounded forward in front of his parents, the three ravens made their way back to the park. They were off to dance together and enjoy each other’s company as best they knew how.
The Mom paused and looked at her Child and Dinah, who had fallen asleep once again at the last moments of Gus's story.
“Good night, little one,” she whispered, kissing her child on the forehead. “Good night, Dinah.”
Getting up, she turned off the bedroom lights and turned back around once more.
“May your dreams be filled with movement and joy.”