Magpie Nests

Sparrows and other small tits make their nests in bamboo forests, trees and grasses, making a nest haphazardly and having a resting place to hide from the wind and rain, and when it gets dark, they just sleep. In the world of birds, nothing is more important than eating, which is no different from humans. Birds are getting more and more, the village is so big, people throw things are unintentionally missed, not intentionally feed the birds, humans produce food, the purpose is also to feed themselves. It’s just that when the harvest is good, there’s a lot of spilling, and if the year is bad, it’s hard for the birds to pick up the slack, starving, not returning to the nest, or returning to the nest is still hungry, the nest is doing well, and there’s no point. The larger birds, such as turtledoves, seem to have little interest in making nests, picking up some grasses and fleece and building them on shrubs and trees, perfunctorily, as if they were contracted to do the work for others. It is true that the turtledoves spend most of their time singing at high altitude and some of their time flying, both of which take longer than sleeping in the nest, so making a good nest is often idle and not worth the effort. I and sparrows, turtledoves, like each other, sympathize with each other, a lifetime of house does not care, to old age, there is no decent study. I don’t know what I’ve been working on for nothing. The turtledove did not take into account the home, but in the air singing also left a sound, sparrows do not return to the nest, there are a bunch of friends of wine and meat to follow the whirlwind, I?

The magpies do not want to be with the sparrows and these “punks”. In the matter of making a nest, it is serious and careful, and it is particularly secure and beautiful. A bird’s life must be beautiful and comfortable. In the matter of happiness, birds and humans have something in common. The magpie has to look at feng shui to build a nest, which tree to build, which house to build, what is the direction of the year’s wind and rain, which way the nest door opens, all have precise judgments. It is not too much to say that it is a feng shui master. Farmers always keep an eye on the magpies to see which day the magpies start nesting, and when the magpies go to the forest to pick up the first sticks, the farmers also start working and keep an eye on the magpies. Farmers summed up a way out, the direction of the magpie open door, is the direction of the feng shui of the year. Magpies are no worse than humans in foreseeing and judging things.

I live in Lao Xie’s house and watch magpies make their nests every day. The magpies fly up and down like helicopters, sometimes with their tails up and heads down, flying down the hill, sometimes with their tails down and heads up, flying hard towards the hill, and when they fly horizontally and vertically, their tails are always little by little, like dragonflies. The magpie is also busy, and sometimes it chirps, hoarsely, but only when it is free. It has to use more energy to choose materials in the forest, sticks, clay, velvet, all these things are needed, and the sticks it picks up are all selected, not randomly picked up by cutting corners. The sticks are of different lengths, thick and thin, and are used when they are connected to the sticks. Before building the nest, the magpie has designed it in his head, and has calculated how much material is needed for each type. The human category is too conceited, but the wisdom of birds is not below us. It is the magpie’s goal to make the nest so airtight and solid that the wind cannot blow away and the rain cannot penetrate. Soya bean dregs engineering, absolutely nothing. I dare to say this after observing the magpie nests in the whole village.

Why did the magpies make their nests on the “silk cotton tree”? The tree is not very tall, not very strong, but it has few branches, and the skin is smooth and pliable, so it is difficult for people to climb it, and the same goes for snakes. The nest is very conspicuous, but the tree is right in the center of the village, close to the village council will not run off, people and birds coming and going, the first look can see. It is also convenient to fly to the east, west, north and south. Magpies are really high-profile, chattering all day long, cheerful and enthusiastic, as if they are reporting news all the time. The magpies do not hide their nests, but hold them up in a bright place so that all the birds in the village can see them, and let humans understand what kind of building is the strongest. This is the character of the magpie. The magpie’s character is very much in line with Lao Xie’s temper. They are cheerful all day long, say everything to people, are enthusiastic and quick-witted, and have a high pitch voice and heart. But from the beginning of spring, “silk cotton tree” did not sprout, I thought this tree than other trees sprouted late, because not all trees, in early spring with some buds dating, some may have to delay some days. But in late spring, the “cottonwood” has not moved, the tree has a strange appearance. I tilted my head to observe. The magpies were going out, one jumped on a branch, tilted its head, looked at a few small things in the nest, jumped to the top of the nest, stepped on a few feet, called to the distance, flew away, and rushed back to catch some bugs. I look down at the tree again, no wonder the tree has no signs of life, a farmer drainage ditch, has been washed in the roots of the tree. I understand. This is the only tree in the village that died. Magpie to this tree’s premature death lack of foresight?

There is a walnut tree next to the old Xie’s house that is flush with the sky, looking upward, covering half of the sky, and covering the house and yard. In the highest branch of the tree, magpies made a big nest. The nest was just a span away from the nest on the “silk cotton tree”, and the magpies swooped down from the walnut tree for a rendezvous, and before they could finish their call, they landed on the “silk cotton tree”. I measured with my eyes, this section of the air route, just the distance from Lao Xie’s house to the village committee gate. The magpies came and went, flying around and attracting magpies from other families, making a lot of noise and bustle, even more than the guests at Lao Xie’s house. The son thought the magpies were too noisy and used a long bamboo pole to topple the nest with all his strength, landing on the ground like a small earthquake. The magpie nest was intact. The skeleton was not yet deformed. Old Xie was very upset with his son and felt that he had done a bad thing. Old Xie is old and listens to his son on everything in the house, but this is the only thing that Old Xie is stubborn about and wants his son to send the magpie nest back to the tree. The son had to ask a few people to help him, tie up the nest, pull it up with a long rope, and resettle it again.

At the end, Lao Xie said to his son: “Magpies also look at people, which family has good feng shui, the family is full of joy and harmony, will come to do the nest, why the name of the magpie with a “happy” word? The more magpies there are, the more joy they bring.

After a pause, the old Xie fire receded some, to the son and added a sentence: you officers upstairs at night, huffing and puffing, your grandparents also coughing all night, people magpies can not squeak, said they are noisy, right.

I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard Old Xie admonishing his son. This is a lovely old man. He loves magpies.

I have an opinion about magpies: they are attractive, they are smiling and welcoming.

But Qin’s wife doesn’t like magpies. A tall elm tree in her house held up two magpie nests, making a lot of noise. The nests were too high for the bamboo poles, so they tried to cut the tree down. When I passed by Mrs. Qin’s house, she complained to me that a large group of magpies swooped down from the tree every day and went to the field to look for food, pulling out the seeds of the bush buried in the soil and eating them, and when the bush sprouted into seedlings, they didn’t let go, picking up the swollen seeds and eating them too. The magpies do not give people a chance to live, but only look for seeds to eat. The harvest is reduced, I have no food to feed the pigs. The oldest daughter is married, and the youngest daughter is still around at more than 30 years old, so she wants to recruit a son-in-law, but no one is willing to come.

I advised Mrs. Qin not to cut down the trees and not to shoo the magpies away, as it is a good omen that the magpies are coming. The house is beautiful, the front and back of the house are tidied up with a happy atmosphere, the magpies will come, right? You have to treat the magpies well, just like you treat your two daughters. I muttered in my heart but didn’t say it out loud: It’s just a few seeds, isn’t it? If a magpie gouges out a field, just bury the seeds and put them back in. The magpies are not as big as the pigs’ stomachs, and the pigs eat so much cereal a year, the magpies still have a problem with it, so what’s a few seeds? The seeds are always incomplete, so why cut down trees and shoo away magpies? The magpies report good news in the sky every day, so it’s not a big deal? It is also a contribution to the family.

The actual fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a lot of money to pay for their work. A seed is a pile of grain, two seeds is our pig’s daily ration.

The actual fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a good deal of money from the company.

I can’t be on the side of the magpies, I have to think of something for Mrs. Qin. The first thing you need to do is to make some “mao people” in the field, just like other families, and when the wind blows, the “mao people” will move, just like working. The newest weapon is the flashing light, which scares the magpies. The first thing you need to do is to get rid of the ghosts,” said Mrs. Qin, “but as the days go by, the human tricks will be detected. The magpies were emboldened. But the seedlings of the bush have grown to two spans high, so don’t worry, the magpies can’t pluck the seedlings anymore, so what’s the point of plucking them up?

When I wandered around, I went up to Artemisia Ping again. I couldn’t name the tree, but it impressed me that it was a curved bow shooting into the sky, like a human launching a missile. Unlike the walnut tree, the limbs are open to the sky. It is a single line, but the branches and twigs are still there. There is a magpie nest at the end. It is also at the limit of the height at which magpies can fly. Looking upward from the edge of the tree pocket, it looks like it grazes the sky. Magpie nests are all over the village, but this nest is the most lofty, just satisfying the two conditions of poetry and faraway places. Man cannot destroy it unless the combined force of wind, rain and lightning can lift it. The few magpies up there can see everything, they can see more clearly than the satellite. How many magpies in the village, how many nests, plus other bird families, how many birds and nests, all have a number in mind. The names of the people copied in the village support book are often forgotten. But the magpies in Yao Laoxiao’s family remembered them all. The magpies do not need to hold a general meeting, as long as they say a few words in the treetops. In the high places a said, will be silent, than the village supporters of the prestige is still high. I said to Yao Lao-young, your magpies take up all the feng shui, the scenery is very good. Yao Lao-young smiled, hoping that the magpies have been living in the sky, do not leave the Yao family. Yao oldest also struggled with one thing, the sky sometimes spill some things down, I do not know whether it is rain, or bird droppings, fell on the body to distinguish.

Bored, I made an incomplete statistic: on average, almost all the people in the village have a magpie nest, and the magpies are roughly equal to the population of the farmers, but the droppings are less, but they can add up to hundreds of bags of fertilizer less, and the seeds eaten by the magpies make each household have half a pig less.

A hundred birds singing

I am poor in knowledge and know little about birds and animals. There were many animals in the forest, and they often came to the crop fields to feed, except for the wild boars, which I did not know even when I met them. Among the hundred birds, I also know so many kinds. This is not my fault, nor the beasts, each has its own circle, are busy looking for a bite to eat. However, I came to the village to hang out and write some articles, not to mix some food, literature as a job is very dangerous, because the article does not feed me, I am for the pleasure, just like the village birds, singing all day long, not to get some food, but also because of the joy.

The trees have filled up the forest, and the farmers have planted enough land for cultivation, so the birds are all here, and a hundred birds are singing every day. The day, just as soon as the bright mouth opens, a monotonous song will evoke a duet, trio, and then put on a chorus. The songs from all directions, the five tones of the tune, a variety of different beats, are superimposed and mixed together, a warm atmosphere of song and dance. Some are chirping when taking off and landing, some are standing in the treetops chirping, some are chirping gracefully like gentlemen while walking, mellow and thick, sweet and deep, and some look odd, pretentious and hoarse, some are singing to each other, some are crisp flute sounds, and some are metallic echoes, or the sound of a piano. Some have soft tones and varied melodies, while others have a bang and no bang. Some have a higher and higher pitch, so high that they are hoarse, while others go down to silent and unresolved, the notes all scattered.

Music belongs to all humans, but when I came to the village, I felt that it also belonged to the birds. The melodiousness of their songs is even better than that of human beings. I could understand our own songs, but I could only understand one or two of the birds’ songs, a few songs in praise of humans, and the rest were profound, because I still had a distance from the birds and could not yet talk to them directly, and I knew too little about the world and the hearts of the birds to know the meaning of even simple songs, or because I did not consider the birds as friends. I just need to tie into the village, have a good feeling for each other, and research the birds’ songs, there will always be a harvest, the unknown areas to drill into it may not be difficult, precisely to delve into the known areas, such as the human song, but it is very difficult, because the human mind is complex.

In the morning, listening to a hundred birds singing is like eating a feast of “ten bowls and eight buckles” of the bridge material, and to listen to a few birds singing alone is like going to meet a few soulmates, full of desire. When I strolled along the mountain road, I came to a remote place in Tier Rock and heard a bird chirping in a tree, sounding like an ocarina, playing behind the curtain, languidly, ancient and profound, as if squatting in a tree to recount the past, and also seemed to be the sad cry of love lost. I had never heard such a sound before. I searched, but could not see it. What kind of bird is it? In fact, I just found the bird, there is no point. Let it hide in this small corner, hermit like free, playing a little music, very much in line with its state of mind.

Another few dozen steps, I heard a sharp whistle blowing sound, feeling that it was to be an emergency assembly. I unconsciously speed up the pace. The bird is also hiding in the dark, I do not know how the face. Maybe it’s a small, upright bird. It is certainly right to say that it is a small bird, big birds do not hide in the small jungle singing. The character is like the party Zongcui on the pier of the green hill. Party Zongcui is also an acute person, talk straightforward, do things in a hurry, walk in a hurry. It is estimated that the bird is whistling at the pace of the party Zongcui. There is a sound, whether it’s a chorus or a solo when it feels like it’s falling from a high altitude. Coo coo, coo coo, a sound drawn from the dantian, thick, expansive, pure and quiet, the Pavarotti of birds, and like a holy man coming from the warring states, speaking an ancient phrase, or more accurately, the welcoming cadence of the village ringers playing their trombones. This is the song of the turtledove. It gives a righteous spirit and inspires me to be bold. I like to listen to it, and the folks love it too. I can’t say how romantic and poetic it is. I underestimated the turtledove, which is not much bigger than a bush stick, and thought it was as casual as some birds, but its aura is magnificent, and the song is sent so high and far that the whole village can hear it, as if the song rises to the high altitude first, and then falls from the high altitude, which really surprises me. The turtledove is much smaller than a human being, and its mouth is much smaller, so how is it that its song is much louder than that of a human being? I was fascinated by the song of the turtledove. I opened the window of Lao Xie’s house and recorded a few segments of the turtledove’s voice in my cell phone, so I could listen to it anytime. No matter what angle I was in the village, the recorded sound was clear and without any noise, so I didn’t have to run to a tree or the edge of the forest, just lie in bed and record. At night when I am lonely, I turn on my phone and listen for a while. The songs are pure and can wash away my boredom. Coo-coo-coo-coo-coo-, I fall asleep.

Some birds are singing at night, when the sky is just dark, the lighted finches make their appearance, at first one or two voices are soft and delicate, there are two delicate, slowly, a tight one, a high one like one, changing tune constantly, urgent and loud, the last one or two voices seem to be hoarse, probably one of the highest notes can not go up, can not catch the air, it is broken, the end is rushed. It feels like a half-hearted song, and the tone of the voice is a bit harsh. But just change the air, picked up again, one song after another, so that a night has passed. Persistent. Persistence. Tenacity. All night long, day after day. I don’t know how long the lighted finches will sing.

There were nights when the sound of woodpeckers was heard. Duk, duk, duk, like the beating of a drum. A small vibration occurred in the village.

The crow

When the magpies were mentioned, the people in the village were overjoyed, but when it came to crows, they avoided them and their expressions changed dramatically. They even called the crow a crow. When they call it, they are a bit dismissive and some are indignant, thinking it is ugly and not an auspicious bird. I used to call crows “black birds”. This is without a trace of emotion. It’s like a neutral word. I have no grudge against it, and I don’t have to reject it.

But now that I live in the village, I have to follow the custom and call the blackbird a crow.

I wake up every morning at six o’clock. Outside the window was a blur, and the world was chaotic. A little later, a crow cries out, and the dawn is broken through several holes, and the peace is all gone. Another seemed to respond in the distance. Whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa, the sound was low and slow, like hovering somewhere, perhaps an old crow, less energetic, older than the world. The next day it rained and was having a good dream when the crow suddenly woke me up with a few woos, seemingly with a little fright, and the dream was not over, but it was torn alive again, so that the dream did not have a good result. I listened to the sound of rain for a few minutes before I calmed down. When I heard the sound of rain, I was at peace. When I was a child, it was like that, when it rained, everything seemed to be fine. The other birds were close to my dream, probably separated by a curtain of rain and dawn, and they were noisy too. I blame the crow for this. It’s raining, but they can’t stop chirping, so they don’t take other people’s dreams seriously? No wonder folks don’t have a good feeling about them. The morning is also a good time for dreaming, but the crow has to be an alarm clock.

One day, without waiting for the crow to make a fuss, I opened the landlord’s door and went out. In the blur of the village, going around and around along the road, I unconsciously came to the back of the hill, exactly where the sky was going to open wide. I stood still. In front of me were forests, houses and fields, and a layer of mist, which should be the vast territory loved by the old crow. I believe the crow takes off from here every day and ends up here. Maybe the ones that wake me up every morning also depart from here. Indeed, three or five of them took off, swooping down from the highest trees in unison, wings outstretched, flying effortlessly, much like a gliding eagle at this point, gliding freely for a while. But in other routes, such as parallel or upward flight, the wings flapped up and down, similar to the action of “white crane bright wings” when I was practicing, and I thought I heard a “pop” sound, probably because the wings hit the air and felt the air was hard. When the crow spun to my head, there was a strong air flow rotating, is the sound of clattering water. I saw it flapping a little, it rushed out more than a meter away, in the air to cut a deep groove, waves stacked up, there are a few pieces of fog floating and floating. A few crow flies in the air, shouting and shouting in the sky, just a little lower than the village trombone, sounding close to the human voice, sometimes shrill, the cry of a doll, and sometimes low, the roar of an old man, the sound is really not very beautiful, which is one of the reasons why the villagers are cold to it. Unlike the magpies, turtledoves and orioles, they are not as pleasant to listen to as they are to listen to. Especially the magpie, although chirping, but there are people to support it. Is the crow an anomaly? How come when the words come out, they don’t sound good? I couldn’t understand why the birds were screaming, but they held their breath and didn’t scream, so maybe they thought the crow was a good bird, silent, who knows what you are.

I saw a few flying off towards the bottom of the hill, wah-wah-wah-wah, wah-wah-wah-wah, the sound that wakes up humans, a routine chirp. One flew away, fanning out into the distance, soothing and graceful, and the sight of my dream flight appeared now, getting further and further away, shrinking into a symbol. Flying to another village, the old crow may have another hometown.

It was already dawn, and the old farmers were already on their way to the fields to do some planting. A few birds did not fly down the hill, but swooped down from the trees and landed directly in the field, just a few meters away from me, all black, stepping with rhyme and grace, disdainful of me, not afraid, not wary of humans, and looking for food on the land tilled by the old farmers. No matter how careful the farmer is, there is always something left on the ground. The old farmer didn’t shoo the crow away, he said to me, “What does it matter if they eat a few seeds? The crow is also a bird in the village, and the land has their share, although the sky is theirs, but it doesn’t produce food, the life of the birds is also life, they also have to eat it. I was very moved. No wonder the old crow was not afraid of him at all.

At this point, another image flashed back in my mind: I was familiar with the village’s old man Li, often ran to chat, cooked lamb in his house, and wandered around his land, he planted eight acres of bush land, when the bush was ripe, the crow often came to steal to eat, but for old man Li, the crow ate some bush, flying on the bush pole, shaking, pecking on a few grains and then drifted away, not intentionally to steal to eat, just But Old Man Li still wanted to teach it a lesson. He took off the cupola he bought, stuffed it into an iron cylinder, lit it up and raised it high, “bang”, and shot it into the air, a flash of light, ash splashes, all hitting the crow, they were frightened and flew away, like a fighter jet hit by a cannonball, its wings flipped and fled. This was just a warning from old man Li, but the crow did not come for a long time, and old man Li regretted that he could not be an enemy of the crow, and that people, birds and nature should get along with each other in a peaceful manner. Old man Li had also described for me a fragment of winter: the snow had closed the mountains, people were rare, and only the crow flew over the land, opening and closing, flying like a master calligrapher, waving strong lines on the white rice paper. Winter is its kingdom, and it is the only one that will patrol from high above, taking a bird’s-eye view of the rivers and mountains. In snowy days, the mountains are silent, unlike other seasons, when birds gather in groups and the five tones play together, the crow is indeed lonely as it keeps the mountains alone, but a call from it suppresses all the silence. The sound of its call was even louder than that of old man Li.

I came back to my senses and stared at the crow again, hoping to observe something, but they only glanced at me twice, which was the same as not looking at me, or defying. I saw them in their dark attire, revealing an elegance and nobility that gave me a sense of beauty. I read an article written by Burroughs, and did not say a bad word about crow. “Crows are a character I don’t want to miss in the landscape. I am cool to watch their tracks in the snow or mud, and their graceful figures as they walk around in the brown fields.” That’s how I felt.

Some days later, I suddenly saw a black mass solidified over the Madu River, thinking it was a cosmic meteorite that had fallen there. A moment, like nuclear fusion but scattered, splashing out countless ink dots, sinking and floating, drifting, like some bugs fluttering. I understood what it was. The landlord, Lao Xie, said, “Damn blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. The tone of discontent was clearly directed at the crow. Sure enough, the next day a letter came, a ninety-year-old elder by the river had gone. This incident hit me hard. How I wished that such a bad thing as a dead man had nothing to do with the crow. I understood the root of the crow’s scorn. The reputation that he carries will never be washed away.

The crows get together for a meeting and make a lot of noise, it must be dead? Not necessarily! One evening, I accompanied an artist to the top of the mountain to meet the craftsman who dug the wooden dipper, an ancient art that is going to be lost, so that I could take some photos, accumulate some information, and make a few more wooden dippers. Above a large area of jungle, I saw hundreds and thousands of crowbirds flying, circling, and making a lot of noise. I muttered in my mind how there were so many of them. After a few days at the smith’s house, nature and people were safe and sound, and no bad news came.

Bird Repelling

I ran through the whole village and I was amazed to see not a single abandoned land, which is remarkable and great. The farmers still valued the land and still planted crops. Some people say that the countryside is desolate and people are running away, which is not entirely true. The village I live in, although also remote and a long way to the market town and the county seat, still looks like a comfortable village. The village has a fresh face, not a sloppy and depressed look. I saw each piece of land, will stop for a while, over a detailed look once, farmers are not lump plowing a little, but the field will be cleaned of grass, will be built into the stone Beikan, turn the soil a few ways, the whole into a broken soil, and then the monopoly into rows, as if the monopoly are drawn with a line, into a line into a regular very neat, if standing on the highest bales of earth to look down, or from the opposite side of the village, the village is a picture, the forest and the land If you stand on the highest bale and look down, or from the opposite side of the village, the village is a picture, the forest and the land, the green and the yellow blend, the fields are not fields anymore, they are like artworks. If the seedlings of the bush grow up to be more than one person high and bear bush sticks, it will be even more beautiful in the golden season of ripening. A few farmers have moved to the city with their children and entrusted others to plant the land well and not to abandon it. It is not possible to come back one day and plant again.

The main crop in the high mountains is bush. The main job of farmers is to plant bush. I am afraid that the birds love to eat the bush cereals. But folks don’t plant for birds, they know it in their hearts, including birds. When planting seeds, the birds keep a close eye on the seeds thrown in which nest, the eyes can see clearly, the villagers flash a body back to eat a lunch, the birds will go to shave. Some birds also pecked off the skin of the seeds and threw them aside, the skin is not good, because the seeds are soaked with medicine and have a medicinal taste. The birds have become elite, no more stupid than people. The seeds are eaten and have to be replenished. This is the most brain-damaging thing for folks. If the bush is golden, a good harvest, big birds, small birds have to eat a few mouthfuls, what is this matter. There is a situation that the villagers are not comfortable with, the birds in our village just eat more, they can tolerate it, but they also call their friends and invite the birds from other villages to come and try a couple of bites, then the bush harvest will have a great loss, and it is no different from the wild boars leaping into the fields to wreak havoc for a while. This is not good! We have to do something!

One day, I was watching Yao Jishun planting seeds on the monopoly. The woman threw a handful of fertilizer in her left hand and then threw a few seeds in. Qin Shiqing came flying on his motorcycle. “Crash” a stop at the side of the road. Ask Yao Jishun how much cheaper it would be to buy “bird repellent tape” online than to buy it in town. Yao Jishun said, are in the seeds, quickly go to town to buy back, cloth to the field, buy online, a week to arrive, a few turns, time are slipping away. Yao Jishun has been a branch secretary, know everything, ask him right. Qin Shiqing will be a motorcycle pedal, towards the town. This is when I paid attention to the bird repellent tape that Yao Jishun had laid. An inch wide, but infinitely long bird repellent belt, like the return of light on the side of the highway, the belt are red and white slash. As long as there is light and wind, bird repellent tape will flash, red and white glow. The wind is strong, it’s a crazy pull like a nervous breakdown, shooting over and sweeping past like lightning. The wind is small, it shakes and flips, flashing and shimmering. This is the “new weapon” to scare the birds. Yao Jishun will drive the bird belt in the edge of the field connected to a circle, and in the middle of the field pulled a few vertical and horizontal, dazzling.

I went to several piers and saw that every field had bird-repelling belts, pulling and pulling, flashing and swaying in the wind. Some of the fields also have some flags, erect some “thatchers”, flags fluttering, colorful, in my opinion some bluff, passive defense. The “thatchers” also shake in the wind, like some maniacs flailing about. In the past, the “thatch man” was a human figure tied with thatch, erected in the field, as if people were working in the field. Birds fly in the air, is their own kingdom, nothing is afraid, but the ground is always afraid of people, after all, is not all the land of birds. Now, the “people”, is to use wooden sticks to make a “cross” bracket, the adults and children’s old clothes to hang up, like a person, “people” became a stand-in. One evening, I was walking up from the hillside, I saw a man standing in the field, but also wearing a hat, a little wind, head a little, I shouted, did not respond, my heart is apprehensive, walked to the front, only to know is a “that man”, oops, especially like a human, if I were a bird, would have been scared away.

Are birds really afraid? At first, may be squatting in the trees, the direction of the land to look more than a few eyes, or flying overhead a few circles, reconnaissance reconnaissance, everything can not be rushed forward. Humans can not be trusted, good at setting traps, if you get into it, the bird life is gone. Later, the birds learned the ghost trick, and then foolishly. Those things in the field, nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a trick, not a bit of killing power. In fact, the folks were kind, and the gimmick used was just a warning that the birds should be measured when taking food from the mouths of humans. Although pulled some bird repellent tape, inserted some “flags”, erected some “that man”, but all understand, is formalism. The birds can’t be driven away. The birds are getting more and more and are growing. The rations for the birds also gradually increased. I suggested to the village cadres, the birds have increased, the arable land area should also be expanded some, or improve the yield, more food, the birds eat two more, it really does not matter.

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