Anthony's Crow

Anthony looked at the mess in his hands: a misshapen block of clay, wire, and foam that hopelessly aspired to be at the very least a passable imitation of a crow. He knew the technique required; after three years of art school, if one didn’t know at least the basic requirements of their art, perhaps it was time to give up. What made him despair was the fact that he had worked so very hard those three years, and seemed to be making little to no progress.
It was a continuous circle of events: start the project with high hopes, get about halfway done, then self-doubt, rage, disappointment, and a new start. Nevertheless, the assignment was due within three days, and he would have to present the work whether or not it met with not only his perfectionist standards, but with the standards set by the professor.
The professor’s assignment was simple: make a sculpture of a bird. It didn’t matter the kind, only that the proper techniques be used, and the final result would be as life-like as possible. Naturally, this would be a challenge for any sculptor, but it seemed to Anthony, as it so often does to artists, that others had an easier time of it. And while others chose such grand fowl as peacocks, turkeys, and ornamental beauties like parrots, Anthony chose a simple crow. He thought nothing of it at first. A crow was common, simple, but beautiful all the same.
Knowing he would have to present his work, no matter how much he hated it, he set the crow on a nearby open window. He left the room with a heavy mind. But he didn’t notice that moments later, a crow flew to the windowsill, and stared intently at the sculpture.