Spring is called back by a yellow chicken.

A primary school teacher in Hangzhou gave students an assignment-incubating chickens at home. Students should observe the records every day, take photos, finally make a record sheet, write a summary, and then get quite a lot of credits. .

In this regard, many parents showed a strong rebound: raising an ant, snail, silkworm baby is enough, incubating chickens? Incubate with what? What should I do if I hatch, raise or kill? There are also relatively calm people who think that the teacher's intention to let students practice is correct. Should the whole class buy an incubator to observe together?

I don't take part in this debate about right and wrong, but I'm especially glad that I had a free world in my childhood, so that I could enjoy myself. As spring comes, we naturally want to raise chickens.

My childhood lived in the earliest cultural and educational district in Hangzhou.

The cultural and educational area is an area where farmland surrounds several schools, and it is also a place where a group of weak and sour scholars live with the hard-working farmers who walk with the wind. It's true that "one side of the landscape nurtures one side of the people". We children naturally have a refined appearance and inner Hu Xi since childhood. Reading is not lost to children in the city, and making trouble is not lost to children of farmers.

Spring has arrived, and the winter jasmine on the Xixi River blooms early, which tickles our hearts. When the grass in the field quietly grows tender leaves, we begin to eagerly expect a young life not to come too much in our life.

Finally, one day, there was a gentle "chirping" sound in my ear, which began to be weak, like a bird calling home in the distant Woods in the evening. Later, this cry came slowly from far and near, with the air of telling the world that I am coming. When we get there, we can see the old man who came last year and the year before last. He also carried two bamboo plaques the size of small round tables. The bamboo plaque is crowded with furry chickens. "Chickens" are a dime a dozen, and their cries are so crisp and full of vitality, as if they are calling back spring.

Almost all the children together will carry a broken basket and some wool tickets in their hands. This money is naturally from parents, and of course it is also saved from poor pocket money. Now, 50 cents can be exchanged for a lovely little life, so that they can accompany them through the long and humid spring.

The handover ceremony was solemn and complicated.

First of all, we should add fuel to the flames in the crowd, make ourselves different, and find the one or several that are destined to belong to us among hundreds of chickens that look almost identical. Then, the old man will take some dirty bills, and then hold the chicken in a heavy hand, almost throwing it out and formally giving it to his new home-a broken basket. The new owner will definitely exclaim, and then carefully check whether the chicken is injured.

Think this is over? Jokes.

Every time, children always feel that which one or several to pick out is not as lively as the "one" in the bamboo plaque. So, put it back, pick it out, put it back again, pick it out again, trade it several times, and change chickens several times before picking one or several relatively satisfactory ones. However, no matter how you look at it, you will always feel that what others pick up and leave in the bamboo plaque is always more spiritual than what you take away. Just ... Look at the chickens that have been picked out. The watery eyes reveal the hope of being taken away, and I can't bear to let it go back to the bad old man.

Raising chickens is really fresh.

Chickens can be fed swollen rice (very luxurious, people may not have enough to eat at that time); You can also use leftovers (unrealistic, go to people's stomachs first if you have leftovers, unless you hide them first). It is common to cut the tender leaves of "chicken grass" from the edge of the field with scissors, but it is also useful to use vegetable leaves. Carefully chop it up and put it in a bigger bottle cap, and the chicken starts pecking.

This bottle cap is chicken cutlery. Pour some water into it, and it will be the chicken's water dispenser. Drinking water for chickens is the most interesting thing. It's like pecking water instead of drinking water, and then trying to raise your head and let the water flow into your throat. If you push too hard, the chicken will suddenly stumble like a drunk.

Be sure to wipe off the dew when feeding "chicken grass" or vegetable leaves, otherwise the chicken will have diarrhea. Chickens with loose bowels are poor and usually die. Only by feeding human milk can they live. It's interesting that chickens shit. Look at it in a daze, then squat down, then step back, and bang, it's over. Chicken shit proves that Newton's third law "action and reaction" is flawed, but fortunately, chicken shit does not give Newton general knowledge.

The friendship between children and chickens is primitive.

In that era when there was no such thing as a "pet", chickens played the most sympathetic role for children. Where the child goes, the chicken must scream all the way and follow. When we are apart for a while, the chickens will chirp until the children come.

A farewell funeral was held in my backyard. Later, this happened to my children.

One of my child's chickens died. At noon, the child deliberately came back from school, picked up the chicken that lost its life, dug a hole in the corner of the backyard, gently put the chicken in, and covered it with fine soil. The child cried for a long time when he thought of the endless joy brought by his little life and that everything was over. The child's mind is fragile, but it is pure.

I can understand children's feelings very well, because I had such an experience when I was a child.

Compared with raising ants, snails and silkworm babies, chickens are spiritual. They can get along with you day and night, and sometimes they interact with each other. Compared with raising puppies and kittens, chickens are cultured. They will consciously go out early and return late, live in humble homes and compete with the world. Compared with raising people, chickens seem to save trouble. They are not demanding and can support themselves in a month.

I can understand that there are so many restrictions that people can't raise chickens at will. I can't understand why so many people can't keep a world like a chicken in their hearts.

I miss the spring when the yellow chicken called me back. There is always a gentle "chirp" sound in my ear, like a bird calling home in the distant Woods in the evening. In a trance, the old man came again, with two bamboo plaques the size of a small round table. The bamboo plaque is crowded with furry chickens.

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