Question
Next she went to the steep-roofed barn, and, bringing out an apronful of grain, scattered it all around his favorite tree. Before long, to her great joy, a flock of crows came by. They spied the grain, and soon were busily picking it up with their short, feathered bills. One even came near the mound where she sat. Unable to restrain herself longer, she fell upon her knees with an imploring cry:
“Oh, Ruky! is this you?”
Instantly the entire flock set up an angry “caw,” and, surrounding the crow, who was hopping closer and closer to Cora, hurried him off, until they all looked like mere specks against the summer sky.
Every day, rain or shine, she scattered the grain, trembling with dread lest Nep should leap among the hungry crows, and perhaps kill her “little bird” first. But Nep knew better; he never stirred when the noisy crowd settled around the cottage, excepting once, when one of them pounced upon his back. Then he started up, wagging his tail, and barking with uproarious delight. The crow flew off in a flutter, and did not venture near him again.
Poor Cora felt sure that this could be no other than Ruky. Oh, if she only could have caught him then! Perhaps with kisses and prayers she might have won him back to Ruky’s shape; but now the chance was lost.
There was no one to help her; for the nearest neighbor dwelt miles away, and her uncle had not yet returned.
After a-while she remembered the little cup, and, filling it with grain, stood it upon a grassy mound. When the crows came, they fought and struggled for its contents with many an angry cry. One of them made no effort to seize the grain. He was content to peck at the berries painted upon its sides, as he hopped joyfully around it again and again. Nep lay very quiet. Only the tip of his tail twitched with an eager, wistful motion. But Cora sprang joyfully toward the bird.
“It is Ruky!” she cried, striving to catch it.
Alas! the cup lay shattered beneath her hand, as, with a taunting “caw, caw,” the crow joined its fellows and flew away.
Next, gunners came. They were looking for other birds; but they hated the crows, Cora knew, and she trembled for Ruky. She heard the sharp crack of fowling-pieces in the forest, and shuddered whenever Nep, pricking up his ears, darted with an angry howl in the direction of the sound. She knew, too, that her uncle had set traps for the crows, and it seemed to her that the whole world was against the poor birds, plotting their destruction.
Time flew by. The leaves seemed to flash into bright colors and fall off almost in a day. Frost and snow came. Still the uncle had not returned, or, if he had, she did not know it. Her brain was bewildered. She knew not whether she ate or slept. Only the terrible firing reached her ears, or that living black cloud came and went with its ceaseless “caw.”
At last, during a terrible night of wind and storm, Cora felt that she must go forth and seek her poor bird.
“Perhaps he is freezing—dying!” she cried, springing frantically from the bed, and casting her long cloak over her night-dress.
In a moment, she was trudging barefooted through the snow. It was so deep she could hardly walk, and the sleet was driving into her face; still she kept on, though her numbed feet seemed hardly to belong to her. All the way she was praying in her heart; promising never, never to be passionate again, if she only could find her bird—not Ruky the boy, but whatever he might be. She was willing to accept her punishment. Soon a faint cry reached her ear. With eager haste, she peered into every fold of the drifted snow. A black object caught her eye. It was a poor storm-beaten crow, lying there benumbed and stiff.
For Ruky’s sake she folded it closely to her bosom, and plodded back to the cottage. The fire cast a rosy light on its glossy wing as she entered, but the poor thing did not stir. Softly stroking and warming it, she wrapped the frozen bird in soft flannel and blew into its open mouth. Soon, to her great relief, it revived, and even swallowed a few grains of wheat.
Cold and weary, she cast herself upon the bed, still folding the bird to her heart. “It may be Ruky! It is all I ask,” she sobbed. “I dare not ask for more.”
Suddenly she felt a peculiar stirring. The crow seemed to grow larger. Then, in the dim light, she felt its feathers pressing lightly against her cheek. Next, something soft and warm wound itself tenderly about her neck, and she heard a sweet voice saying:
“Don’t cry, Cor,—I’ll be good.”
She started up. It was, indeed, her own darling! The starlight shone into the room. Lighting her candle, she looked at the clock.
It was just two hours since she had uttered those cruel words! Sobbing, she asked:
“Have I been asleep, Ruky, dear?”
“I don’t know, Cor. Do people cry when they’re asleep?”
“Sometimes, Ruky,” clasping him very close.
“Then you have been asleep. But Cor, please don’t let Uncle whip Ruky.” “No, no, my little bird—I mean, my brother. Good night, darling!” “Good night.”
"The Crow Child" by Mary Mapes Dodge
Question
Use the story to answer the question.
What makes Cora complex?
(1 point)
Responses
Her desire for her brother to turn back into a human child shows that she has grown.
Her desire for her brother to turn back into a human child shows that she has grown.
Her love for her brother and annoyance at his behavior cause conflicting motivations.
Her love for her brother and annoyance at his behavior cause conflicting motivations.
She is in charge of her brother and must make decisions that will be good for them both.
She is in charge of her brother and must make decisions that will be good for them both.
She is part of every scene in the story and has the most speaking parts.
“Oh, Ruky! is this you?”
Instantly the entire flock set up an angry “caw,” and, surrounding the crow, who was hopping closer and closer to Cora, hurried him off, until they all looked like mere specks against the summer sky.
Every day, rain or shine, she scattered the grain, trembling with dread lest Nep should leap among the hungry crows, and perhaps kill her “little bird” first. But Nep knew better; he never stirred when the noisy crowd settled around the cottage, excepting once, when one of them pounced upon his back. Then he started up, wagging his tail, and barking with uproarious delight. The crow flew off in a flutter, and did not venture near him again.
Poor Cora felt sure that this could be no other than Ruky. Oh, if she only could have caught him then! Perhaps with kisses and prayers she might have won him back to Ruky’s shape; but now the chance was lost.
There was no one to help her; for the nearest neighbor dwelt miles away, and her uncle had not yet returned.
After a-while she remembered the little cup, and, filling it with grain, stood it upon a grassy mound. When the crows came, they fought and struggled for its contents with many an angry cry. One of them made no effort to seize the grain. He was content to peck at the berries painted upon its sides, as he hopped joyfully around it again and again. Nep lay very quiet. Only the tip of his tail twitched with an eager, wistful motion. But Cora sprang joyfully toward the bird.
“It is Ruky!” she cried, striving to catch it.
Alas! the cup lay shattered beneath her hand, as, with a taunting “caw, caw,” the crow joined its fellows and flew away.
Next, gunners came. They were looking for other birds; but they hated the crows, Cora knew, and she trembled for Ruky. She heard the sharp crack of fowling-pieces in the forest, and shuddered whenever Nep, pricking up his ears, darted with an angry howl in the direction of the sound. She knew, too, that her uncle had set traps for the crows, and it seemed to her that the whole world was against the poor birds, plotting their destruction.
Time flew by. The leaves seemed to flash into bright colors and fall off almost in a day. Frost and snow came. Still the uncle had not returned, or, if he had, she did not know it. Her brain was bewildered. She knew not whether she ate or slept. Only the terrible firing reached her ears, or that living black cloud came and went with its ceaseless “caw.”
At last, during a terrible night of wind and storm, Cora felt that she must go forth and seek her poor bird.
“Perhaps he is freezing—dying!” she cried, springing frantically from the bed, and casting her long cloak over her night-dress.
In a moment, she was trudging barefooted through the snow. It was so deep she could hardly walk, and the sleet was driving into her face; still she kept on, though her numbed feet seemed hardly to belong to her. All the way she was praying in her heart; promising never, never to be passionate again, if she only could find her bird—not Ruky the boy, but whatever he might be. She was willing to accept her punishment. Soon a faint cry reached her ear. With eager haste, she peered into every fold of the drifted snow. A black object caught her eye. It was a poor storm-beaten crow, lying there benumbed and stiff.
For Ruky’s sake she folded it closely to her bosom, and plodded back to the cottage. The fire cast a rosy light on its glossy wing as she entered, but the poor thing did not stir. Softly stroking and warming it, she wrapped the frozen bird in soft flannel and blew into its open mouth. Soon, to her great relief, it revived, and even swallowed a few grains of wheat.
Cold and weary, she cast herself upon the bed, still folding the bird to her heart. “It may be Ruky! It is all I ask,” she sobbed. “I dare not ask for more.”
Suddenly she felt a peculiar stirring. The crow seemed to grow larger. Then, in the dim light, she felt its feathers pressing lightly against her cheek. Next, something soft and warm wound itself tenderly about her neck, and she heard a sweet voice saying:
“Don’t cry, Cor,—I’ll be good.”
She started up. It was, indeed, her own darling! The starlight shone into the room. Lighting her candle, she looked at the clock.
It was just two hours since she had uttered those cruel words! Sobbing, she asked:
“Have I been asleep, Ruky, dear?”
“I don’t know, Cor. Do people cry when they’re asleep?”
“Sometimes, Ruky,” clasping him very close.
“Then you have been asleep. But Cor, please don’t let Uncle whip Ruky.” “No, no, my little bird—I mean, my brother. Good night, darling!” “Good night.”
"The Crow Child" by Mary Mapes Dodge
Question
Use the story to answer the question.
What makes Cora complex?
(1 point)
Responses
Her desire for her brother to turn back into a human child shows that she has grown.
Her desire for her brother to turn back into a human child shows that she has grown.
Her love for her brother and annoyance at his behavior cause conflicting motivations.
Her love for her brother and annoyance at his behavior cause conflicting motivations.
She is in charge of her brother and must make decisions that will be good for them both.
She is in charge of her brother and must make decisions that will be good for them both.
She is part of every scene in the story and has the most speaking parts.
Answers
GPT-4o mini
Cora is complex because **her love for her brother and annoyance at his behavior cause conflicting motivations.** Throughout the story, she demonstrates a deep concern for Ruky, wishing for his return to human form, while also feeling frustration due to his actions as a crow. This clash between her affection and her annoyance adds depth to her character, making her feel more relatable and multifaceted.