Release of a RAVEN. Thanks for correction. regards

She removed the bandage from the leg of the Raven at the end of the winter. At first it could move neither its leg nor its wing. “Let it stay on top of the cushion, it should start moving in time,” my mother said. So we did what she told us. We ignored it for a while. She had stopped giving it food and drink as well. “So it wouldn't die of hunger if it didn't eat anything?” I asked. “Don't be afraid, it doesn't! It should have been struggling for out by now,” she replied. “Isn’t that right lazy boy?” She spoke to the Raven. What my mother had said came true. When the Raven had been up for a day, it started to feel really rather peckish, and began to wander shyly around my mother for something to eat and drink. “Now you can feed yourself and not die of hunger in the wilderness,” my mother remarked. Even though my mother never wanted it, the raven became domesticated and had no fear from us at all. It especially attached to my mother so much but my mother did not ever want it to lose its wild character. She would always urge it to become free by leaving the door to our house open. She named it Black Boy. One day my mother took Black Boy into her palms, checked its wing and leg, “It seems that you have recovered, now you must fly Black Boy!” She said. Raven listened attentively to my mother as though it had understood what my mother had wanted to say to it. As my mother opened up her palms and released it to the ground gently, it headed for the door, then I opened it, and it went out. It was the last day of March and there was a blanket of snow outside. As soon as it got out, soaked its beak into the snow, pecked a few times, swallowed some, and then it opened its wings and stretched them, pumping blood into its muscles. After having enough exercises, it walked to the edge of the porch, and then, threw itself into the air. After a few despairing flaps, it fell to the ground; it was exhausted. As I made a lunge at it, my mother grabbed my arm, "let it alone and see what it can do," she said. She had prevented me. Raven turned towards my mother nodded twice, took several step in the snow, its legs soaked in it, then it desperately flapped to fly again. It succeeded finally. It flew high over us, took a round over us, caw a few times with its bass voice and perched a branch of the medlar tree never falling again.