Read the paragraph. Answer the questions that follow.
up shading her eyes again. Yes, they're trying to help the trapped bird, isn't that strange?" she said in the
afternoon Hira Lal lay on the grass and felt choked thinking about how the other sparrows were helping the
bird and how nobody else was bothered to do anything about it. His parents would not even talk about it. With
his keen eyes, he traced the way a climber could get up the tower. Even if you got up there, how would you
touch the sparrow? Those thousands of volts would jump at you, just putting your hand near the wire. The only
thing that could be done was to get somebody to turn off the power for a minute. Then he could climb the
tower like a monkey and bring down the bird in a jiffy. At dinner that night, when he suggested it, his father
became very angry
1
Retell the paragraph in 3-4 sentences using your own words.
What details have you not included in your retelling of the paragraph? Why?
He spent the morning hours building a mud house under a tree. While coming in at midday, he looked up one
more time. What he saw kept him standing there for a long time with his mouth open. The other sparrows were
hovering around the trapped bird, trying to help it. He rushed inside and dragged his mother out. She looked
Answers
Answer:
i am so thankful to answer your question.
Explanation:
ALL THREE of the titans you will meet here are smaller than sparrows and probably weigh around five grams. All are common and found nearly all over the country —in gardens, parks, the countryside and even semi-desert habitats. All three have character and personality in spades. And all three have the voices of electioneers —I call them the Bose-speaker birds! Meet the tailorbird, the ashy prinia (aka the ashy wren-warbler) and the plain prinia (aka plain wren-warbler).
The tailorbird is, of course, famous for its the ability to sew the edges of large leaves together to form a cone or container in which to build nests. Even the ashy prinia is equally talented in this respect, and the plain prinia puts together a pouch or bag made of grass stalks. All three prefer nesting during the monsoons, when the foliage is green and pliable.
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The tailorbird, normally glimpsed hopping in hedges or bushes, is not averse to coming right up to where you may be sitting: last summer one regularly visited my bougainvillea creeper, hunting small spiders and insects less than a foot away from where I lay in wait with the camera. Both sexes are identical, although the male may have a longer tail. They’re olive green, with a saffron cap and greyish underparts, and have orange eyes. They’re tiny and slim and flick their long graduated tails from side to side as they hop through the foliage. When in love, the male will hop onto the most prominent perch he can find, and with his tail angled over his back, will excitedly belt out a towit-towit-towit call at nearly 100 decibels. It’s astonishing that such a volume can proceed from such a tiny bird. Once a lady has been won (and she will remain a partner for a long time) the serious business of home-making begins.
The site chosen is usually one metre off the ground and the plants selected usually have large leaves. The edges of a single — or multiple — leaves are drawn together, holes skillfully punched and then threaded and sewn together with a deft, needle-like beak so that a cone or pouch is formed. Spider silk or vegetable down, fibres from foliage — any suitable thread-like material may be used. One year, a tailorbird yanked out threads from my dog’s blanket to make its nest. Salim Ali mentions that it appears to be the female who is the seamstress while her husband just brings the material. But some ornithologists seem to believe it is the male who is the tailor-master and others can’t make up their minds. Once the leaves are in position, the interior is woven out of spider silk and other soft material.
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Often, however, the stitches don’t hold, or wind causes damage, and the nest falls apart. Sometimes, the birds themselves are not satisfied and will deliberately destroy the nest and begin again, albeit in a sustainable way by reusing material. When the nest is done, three to five eggs are laid and incubated by the lady of the house while her husband brings her sustenance. But these little birds are up against horrendous odds because cats, rodents, lizards, snakes and other birds (especially the crow pheasant) all seem to single them out for special treatment, consistently destroying the nests and consuming the eggs or fledglings.
The ashy prinia, which can build a nest identical to the tailorbird, may also construct a slightly differently shaped oblong nest that resembles a pouch or bag, which is also located low down in the foliage. Like the tailorbird, this little fellow too will get up to a prominent perch while courting and cheerfully yell jimmy-jimmy-jimmy at top volume. Otherwise, it will skulk and flit between hedges uttering a plaintive tee-tee-tee as it zips across. They’re handsome little birds in slate grey, rich rufous brown and with light ochre underparts. But (also like the tailorbird) they are resilient and stubborn: Malcolm MacDonald,
who was the British ambassador to India back in the 1960s writes about a pair of ashy wrens that attempted nesting seven times in his garden one summer.
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Each time, there was some disaster — whether a storm or rain destroying the nest or the malevolent attentions of a garden lizard. Years ago, I found an ashy prinia nest in the garden wrecked and the babies gone: clearly the work of a crow. The parents flew around in distress but the very next day were ferrying building material to a new site. MacDonald even mentions that after every tragedy, the pair — who until then behave like a sensibly married couple — would revert to behaving like a couple on their honeymoon.
The plain prinia is a sandy-coloured little bird, with a strange switch-backing flight. I once met one on the Ridge in Delhi. He was a couple of meters away and belting out his song, tlick-tlick-tlick