Jonathan Seagull spent the rest of his days alone, but he flew way out beyond the
Far Cliffs. His one sorrow was not solitude, it was that other gulls refused to believe
the glory of flight that awaited them; they refused to open their eyes and see. He
learned more each day. He learned that a streamlined high-speed dive could bring
him to find the rare and tasty fish that schooled ten feet below the surface of the
ocean: he no longer needed fishing boats and stale bread for survival. He learned
to sleep in the air, setting a course at night across the offshore wind, covering a
hundred miles from sunset to sunrise. With the same inner control, he flew through
heavy sea-fogs and climbed above them into dazzling clear skies... in the very
times when every other gull stood on the ground, knowing nothing but mist and
rain. He learned to ride the high winds far inland, to dine there on delicate insects.
What he had once hoped for the Flock, he now gained for himself alone; he
learned to fly, and was not sorry for the price that he had paid. Jonathan Seagull
discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull's life is so
short, and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long fine life indeed.
They came in the evening, then, and found Jonathan gliding peaceful and alone
through his beloved sky. The two gulls that appeared at his wings were pure as
starlight, and the glow from them was gentle and friendly in the high night air. But
most lovely of all was the skill with which they flew, their wingtips moving a precise
and constant inch from his own. Without a word, Jonathan put them to his test, a
test that no gull had ever passed. He twisted his wings, slowed to a single mile per
hour above stall. The two radiant birds slowed with him, smoothly, locked in
position. They knew about slow flying.
He folded his wings, rolled and dropped in a dive to a hundred ninety miles per
hour. They dropped with him, streaking down in flawless formation.
At last he turned that speed straight up into a long vertical slow-roll. They rolled
with him, smiling.
He recovered to level flight and was quiet for a time before he spoke. "Very well,"
he said, "who are you?"
"We're from your Flock, Jonathan. We are your brothers." The words were strong
and calm. "We've come to take you higher, to take you home."
"Home I have none. Flock I have none. I am Outcast. And we fly now at the peak of
the Great Mountain Wind. Beyond a few hundred feet, I can lift this old body no
higher."
"But you can Jonathan. For you have learned. One school is finished, and the time
has come for another to begin."
As it had shined across him all his life, so understanding lighted that moment for
Jonathan Seagull. They were right. He could fly higher, and it was time to go home.
He gave one last look across the sky, across that magnificent silver land where he
had learned so much.
"I'm ready " he said at last.
And Jonathan Livingston Seagull rose with the two star bright gulls to disappear
into a perfect dark sky.
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