Melving

Melving was an Albatross. He regularly tripped over small stones. Because of this he was bruised beneath his feathers.
Melving loved to fly but hated landing. He pretty much hated being on the ground at all; which is why on any given day you could catch Melving soaring above the cliffs for hours and hours practically hovering, effortlessly.
He spent so much time up there that he was a bachelor. Many of the girls thought Melving to be noble and sad flying up there all alone like that as long as the wind allowed. Some of them would try to flirt with him, but he wasn’t too terribly interested. Matting took place on the ground. Eggs were laid on the ground. Eggs had to be sat on, on the ground. Sooner or later chicks would have to be fed, on the ground.
Melving had spent so much time up there riding the thermals that he could take naps up there in the sky. The girls soon tired one by one, leaving Melving to soar up there alone.
One day a mean little naked ape with a big pistol, shot Melving, three times before he hit the ground. Melving had been napping. It was senseless murder, albatross is not tasty and the naked ape had no plans to eat him. It was sad but not as sad as you might think: Melving was dead before he hit the ground.