To the little bird

Author: Hong Hai / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features:
A Paradise for Birds
At Chen’s primary school, we had dinner and the heat had subsided. The sun had set behind the hills, leaving only brilliant red clouds in the sky, on the mountain peaks, and at the tips of the trees. "Let’s go boating!" Chen suggested. We were standing by the school gate, admiring the mountain view. "Great!" the other friends happily agreed. We walked along a stone path and quickly reached the river. There was a thatched water pavilion there. Crossing it, we found several small boats under two large trees by the riverbank. We boarded the boats one after another. A friend untied the rope, picked up a bamboo pole, and gently pushed the boat, which slowly drifted into the middle of the river. Three friends rowed, while I and Ye sat in the boat, admiring the scenery around us. In the distance, a tower stood tall on a hillside, embraced by many green trees. Nearby, there were few such towers—it was Ye’s hometown. The river was wide, the water shimmering white without waves. The boat moved smoothly across the surface. Three oars moved rhythmically in the water.
At one point, the river narrowed, and clusters of green leaves reached the water’s surface. The leaves were lovely. It was many thriving banyan trees, but I couldn’t see where the trunks were. When I said "many banyan trees," my mistake was quickly corrected by my friends—one said there was only one banyan tree there, while another said there were two. I had seen many large banyan trees before, but never one as big as this.
Our boat gradually approached the banyan tree. I finally got a chance to see its true form: a huge tree with countless branches, roots growing from the branches and hanging down into the ground, some even reaching the water. Some branches drooped into the water, making it look like a large tree lying on the surface from a distance. It was the lush season for leaves (the tree had already borne small fruits, and many had fallen). This banyan tree seemed to be showing us all its vitality. So many green leaves piled on top of each other, leaving no gaps. The emerald green glowed brightly before our eyes, as if each leaf had a new life trembling within it. What a beautiful tree of the south!
The boat docked under the tree for a moment. The shore was wet, and we didn’t go ashore. A friend said this was "a paradise for birds," where many birds nested in the tree, and farmers didn’t allow people to catch them. I seemed to hear the fluttering of a few birds, but when I focused my eyes on that spot, I couldn’t see a single bird. Only countless tree roots stood on the ground, like many wooden stakes. The ground was wet, probably because the river often flooded and washed ashore.
"No birds in the paradise for birds," I thought. The boat set off. A friend rowed it slowly into the middle of the river. Along the riverbank, there were a few lychee trees. Clusters of red fruits hung among the green leaves. Our boat drifted toward them. A friend picked up an oar and steered the boat into a small channel. The boat stopped beside the path, and we all jumped ashore. Two friends quickly climbed the tree and tossed down a few leafy lychee branches. Chen, Ye, and I stood beneath the tree to catch them. After they came down, we all ate the lychee while walking back to the boat.
The next day, we took the boat to Ye’s hometown, the place with mountains and a tower. From Chen’s primary school, we passed by the "paradise for birds" again. This time, it was morning, and the sunlight shone on the water and the tree tops. Everything seemed very bright. The boat docked under the tree for a moment. At first, it was very quiet. Then suddenly, a bird chirped. Chen clapped his hands, and we saw a large bird fly up. Then another, and another. We continued clapping. Soon, the forest became lively. Everywhere were bird songs and bird shadows—big, small, colorful, and black. Some stood on branches, chirping; others flew up; and some fluttered their wings. I watched intently, but my eyes couldn’t keep up. I focused on one bird, then missed another, saw one, and the third flew away. A warbler flew out, startled by our clapping, and flew back into the forest, singing excitedly on a small branch. Its song was beautiful.
"Let’s go!" Ye urged me. As the small boat drifted toward the village below the tower, I turned back to look at the lush banyan tree left behind. I felt a little reluctant. Yesterday, my eyes had deceived me. "A paradise for birds," indeed—it truly was a paradise for birds!
P3-5