However, like many country people, I am not particularly interested in birds. I am interested in cicadas among insects (we understand them as Liu Jie, that is, cicadas) and shrimps among aquatic animals. In the summer evening, enjoy the cool in the yard and make a fire with wheat straw under the big willow tree. Climb the tree barefoot and shake it hard, and cicadas fall like raindrops. If it's too hot, jump into the reed pit and touch it among the reeds. You can touch some big shrimps with double clips. Qi Baishi painted this kind of shrimp.
Birds can't bring me such happiness, and I even get bored sometimes. Sparrows chirp all day and steal crops. Crows wear black evening dresses and have always had a bad reputation. Country people always associate him with death. "wow! Wow! " Two sounds give people goose bumps. Only magpies will be moved by the word "hi", at least it won't cause people's disgust. At that time, rural people were hungry, not poets. Where can they enjoy the singing of birds? Even the chirping of magpies is no exception. Although I am only a few years old, I have all the prejudices of a countryman. There is only one thing I can comfort myself now: I have never climbed a tree to dig a magpie's nest.
Then I went to the city and became a city dweller. When I first came here, it was like being in a maze. So many people, so many cars, so many shops, so many streets. I was dumbfounded with surprise. One year, my mother died in the country and I went home to mourn. When I was a child, my aunt menstruation saw me and asked:
"Did you find a wife?"
This question is easy to answer. I respectfully answer:
"I found it."
"Is it from the village?"
I was speechless for a moment, knowing that the country people had never been to the city, and I didn't know that the city was not a village. I want to explain, but I'm afraid I can't make it clear in a few words. Finally, I will get a "two monks, both at sea". I had a brainwave and adopted Mr. Lu Xun's method. I vaguely replied:
"oh! Hmm! "
No one knows what "mm-hmm" means. The beauty is that no one knows what this means. Grandparents in rural areas are not philosophers, and they don't know anything about logical thinking. They won't "get to the bottom of it". I passed the oral exam.
Although this little thing is small, it fully shows how different the thinking and taste of country people and city people are. We will talk about birds later. This city is not a paradise for birds. Birds are rarely seen except sparrows. As the saying goes: things are rare. So the birds in the city became "expensive", and some people in the city had feelings for birds. If you happen to see the bird's nest on the top of a tall tree, it's a rare thing. Children will clap their hands and jump around under the tree.
Although some ancient poets in China were born in rural areas, they must have entered the city as officials in the imperial examinations. Since you are a poet, your feelings must be very delicate. This delicacy is manifested in all aspects, as well as in the love of birds, especially the singing of birds. You don't need to look up such poems, you can think of a lot when you look back. "Tonamiyama is more secluded", "The birds are surprised when the moon rises, and the spring stream rings", "Two orioles sing green willows, and a row of egrets go up to the sky" and "Colorful clouds lave? My mind is free and easy, and birds fly back and forth in front of my nervous eyes. " , "people have gone home. Bright mountain peaks darken, geese fly to the island with white weeds ","Mist soaks the fragrant grass, a spring pigeon crows from some hidden places ","One hundred birds scatter and return from the empty mountain ",and the clouds are cloudy and clear. The hissing geese lost their flocks at night, and a Tatar child lost his beloved mother. Then the river waves calmed down and the birds croaked "and so on, no need to mention it again. It is conceivable that ancient poets in China had deep feelings for birds and birdsong.
There is only one poem by Tao Yuanming, which I find a bit strange. Dogs bark in deep alleys, and mulberry trees crow at the top of chickens. I have never seen a chicken fly up a tree and sing loudly. The crow on the top of the mulberry tree is quite abrupt. Did the chickens in Jiangxi in the Jin Dynasty really have the temper of flying to the top of mulberry trees?
Anyway, as we all know, China ancient poets were particularly sensitive to birds and their songs. Looking at western literature again, we can't help but feel the differences. In western poetry, except larks and nightingales, other birds and their songs seem to be rarely favored by poets. Are there deep differences in aesthetic tastes? Does it also include eastern and western poets, and then the difference between ordinary people and nature? Let's cut the crap.
I've been beating around the bush for a long time, just to say that city people in China have more feelings for birds. From a countryman to a city dweller, I began to love birds. It's a pity that I've been wandering in big cities all my life, in China and in German and Swiss. There is a heart that loves birds, but it is hard to find a lover, and it is inevitable to feel disappointed in the depths of the soul.
It was not until more than forty years ago, when I was in my forties, that I moved from the seaside-it was really like a desert-to the beautiful and lush Yan Garden. Although it is in a city, it looks like a country and is really a paradise for birds. I can see birds again; Not one, but in groups; Not one, but many; Not only see them fly, but also hear them scream; They not only saw jumping on the grass, but also saw nesting on the top of high trees. I really enjoyed it, as if a clear spring had poured into my heart that had been dry for many years.
Among many birds, magpie impressed me the most, and I like it best. In front of my building, along the lake, there is a row of tall weeping willows, and across the road is a row of towering poplars. To the west and back of the building, and at the foot of the mountain, there are several tall elms. There is a Gu Song with a history of at least 600 years on the mountain. It can be said that our building is among the green trees. I used to live on the second floor of Ximen East, with the study facing west and facing the elm tree. In spring, magpies and other birds keep singing. Magpies don't know by what means, probably without parents' orders and matchmakers, they fall in love freely and form a couple. Couples keep flying from tree to tree, often with twigs in their mouths, thinking about where to nest. My greatest pleasure every morning is to watch magpies fly around like arrows and chirp happily. I can often watch and listen for a long time.
One day, completely out of my expectation, but in line with my wish, there was a mass of black things on the big elm outside the window, and I suddenly understood: this is a magpie nesting. Now you can see the magpie nest without going out. What an honor! Since then, my eyes and ears have been completely focused on the magpies and their nests, and all the other birdsongs seem to have disappeared. Every time I get tired of reading and writing, I look out of the window. The scene of a magpie's nest is like Zheng Banqiao seeing silver. "The heart is full of flowers, and calligraphy and painting are good." . My inspiration is surging, even my memory seems to have changed, and I never forget anything.
Time flies, and it is late spring and early summer. The little magpie in the nest seems to have grown up. Whenever it rains and winds, my heart is in a mess, and I'm afraid their nests can't stand the wind and rain. My heart was relieved when I saw that no matter how crazy the wind was and how sudden the rain was, the black mushroom-shaped nest was still indestructible. I fantasize that at this time, the mother and father of magpie are spreading their wings in the nest and covering the baby tightly. The magpie family is dreaming of a beautiful and sunny Yan Garden. Dreaming of flowers in the Yan Garden; I dreamed that bugs and grasshoppers flew to their nests, and the baby didn't have enough to eat; I dreamed that the shadow of the lake tower suddenly moved under the big elm tree. ...
All this was originally an illusion, but tears blurred my eyes, and I can no longer fantasize. I lost my loving mother and maternal love since I was a child. A person who has lost maternal love must be an incomplete or abnormal person. In those long years of 70 or 80 years, whenever and wherever I mentioned the loss of maternal love and mother, I immediately burst into tears. People are like this, so are birds and beasts. The ancients in China often said "eternal hatred", but this is really "eternal hatred". There is no doubt that this hatred can only disappear when I die. China's ancient poem said: "I advise you not to shoot the birds in the spring, but to wait for your mother in the nest." It's really the words of the benevolent. Every time I secretly recite it, I feel very shocked.
However, there are unexpected events in the sky, and birds are doomed. Just as I was intoxicated with the happiness of this magpie, disaster happened. One morning, I was sitting at my desk. This is a coincidence. I looked up and saw a little boy crawling barefoot on that elm tree, reaching out to take the little magpie out of its nest. I took out a few, but I didn't see them clearly. I dare not talk nonsense. Anyway, it was taken away. Just look at this little boy, like an ape, jumping down from the tree in an instant, and within a few minutes, with a small magpie in his hand, he disappeared without a trace. I really want to go downstairs and intervene; But when I think that the terrible pile of heavy hats I wore in the catastrophe is still being picked, I can only behave myself and dare not say anything. If that little boy is a worker's child, wouldn't it be "class revenge"! I ate Tigerheart leopard gall, but I didn't dare to move. I had to lie on my desk and sob.
It's over, it's over, it's all over. Magpie's dream disappeared, so did mine. I was so depressed that I didn't even dare to look up at the big elm tree outside the window. I don't know the mood of magpie mother and magpie father. They lost their beloved son, at least not better than me. For several days in a row, I heard the magpies chirping and moaning outside the window, and turned around the tree for thousands of times without branches following. I can't bear to look up at them again. I don't know when the magpies disappeared. They may fly somewhere else to start a new stove with a broken heart. After a year or two, the magpie nest on the big elm tree was empty because it was not repaired and was blown away by the wind.
I haven't given up. That big elm tree is dying, so I hope there are other trees. Magpies choose trees to build their nests. I don't know what criteria they are based on. According to my own standards, I think many tall trees in front of, behind, left and right of the building meet the standards of nesting. So I look forward to, year after year, month after month, stars, the moon, and red eyes. In spring, when I go out, I first look up at the trees. The branches are bare and there is nothing. Sometimes it's really a little anxious, even a little crazy. I want to see the magpie nest with my own eyes. However, all this is in vain, all in vain.
This spring, now, I walked out of the stairs and occasionally looked up. On the big elm tree mentioned above, among the bare branches, I saw another dark thing. I have lost confidence in my eyes for years. I was surprised, wiped my eyes and opened my eyes wide. I saw it clearly: it was a newly-built magpie nest. My happiness is beyond description in any language. However, happiness is not limited to this. Not long after, on the top of a tall weeping willow by the lake, a pair of magpies were busy flying up and down again, with twigs in their mouths and nesting. This time, there are far more surprises than last time. Is my life really over?
The little boy who climbed the tree to dig the magpie's nest has grown up now. He may have stayed abroad, or gone to sea, or become a "rich man". He may have forgotten. I pray silently that there will be no more such children, that these two magpie nests will survive, that there will be such a black mushroom-shaped magpie nest on the thousand trees in Yanyuan, that people and birds can live in harmony here, in China and all over the world, and that people and birds can jointly create a harmonious universe.