Sparrow prose

When the vet stood beside the retired old white, carrying his pheasant cage on his shoulder and passing by the bottom of my slope, I always looked at him on the small earth wall on my alkali ground. I see how he asks the villagers where there are pheasants. Look at the pheasant in his cage, with red eyes, red legs and beautiful feathers. Look at how the pheasant pecked at the rice with its head down and jumped desperately. Thinking about its eagerness and anxiety to come out.

I also like to climb to the birdcage of Laopi and watch Laopi feed his sparrows. Old skin uses a used peony oil iron shell, put some millet and pour some water. Carefully open the cage door and put the bird food in. The bird is close to the iron shell, enjoying its delicious food. Old Pi also said that you must pour some water for the sparrow. Eating dry food will kill birds.

I just don't have birds.

I told my father who was herding sheep what I thought. I hope that with his help, I will have my own bird. Dad said yes, but he didn't see any real action. No wonder dad is too busy. He got up early in the morning and went to the sheepfold. Either give milk to those lambs born in spring or lick the poor sheep with cooked black beans. After waiting for a long time, he will soon finish the hot breakfast his mother gave him in the pot. As soon as the meal was finished, his mouth was wiped clean, and his father had to take a pole to pick two buckets of water in the well ditch. When the water is poured into the big water tank, it is time to drive the sheep out of the mountain.

I complained to my father discontentedly: I didn't say I should pay more attention when I was herding sheep outside. Catch a baby pheasant. Too much talk. Dad said he had enough sheep to drive away. Do you have time for catch the pheasant? And pheasants don't wait in one place to catch themselves! .

I have no choice but to keep my own selfishness in my heart. I saw the hope of getting a bird in old leather.

So, I glued the old leather like a meat tail. He is five or six years older than me. They are all in the sixth grade. Old leather has a lot of guts. He dared to climb the old locust tree on my slope and dig out the magpie nest on the high branch. Dare to climb backwards and dig a sparrow's nest with a needle under someone else's eaves. Dare to carry ladders to pigeon cliffs and dig cooing pigeon nests.

It's just that no matter how many times I kicked him, dragged his feet and pulled the rope tied around his waist, he didn't share a bird with me. In other words, I invested, and I didn't return. Old Pi never thinks that he is unfair if I don't get one. I looked at the bird he dug up, and I didn't dare to grab it or speak softly. I am afraid of old leather. He was very angry. If he kicks his leg, he will kick me to the ground like a burden and make me unable to get up.

I am looking forward to it every day, and I am impatient every day. Desire can only be tortured in time.

Later, I was lucky enough to get a little sparrow. I live in Yangcheng across the river. It's just that the bird seems to be ill. Feathers are fluffy, eyes are half closed, and it takes half a day to make a sound. Yangcheng was so playful that he forgot to feed the birds. His mother asked him to send someone to feed him. He also said that Yangcheng fed the birds, and Mao Da was fed to death.

I don't mind this ugly little sparrow. Because besides, I can't keep another sparrow.

Afraid of the bird being cold, I wrapped it in old cotton wool. If there is no birdcage, I will fasten it with a lifter to prevent wild cats from eating it. Afraid it is hungry, I will stay up at noon, go to Laocaowan, catch locusts, catch a pole-a kind of locust, and feed it. If it doesn't open its mouth, I'll pry it open and feed it bit by bit. Thanks to my careful care. The little sparrow came back to life and grew up. The old belly was taken back, the mouth turned black, and the yellow hair on the head was gone. The most important thing is that its wings and feathers are full enough to catch up with its mother's old finch.

I am very happy. For the resurrection of this dying sparrow. I'm proud, too. With a sense of accomplishment, people can have that kind of pride.

However, one day, when I came home from outside and stepped into the house, I bumped into my mother and was scolded. And asked me to "never bring my Mao Laozi home again." I didn't know until my mother's mood calmed down a little, because my little sparrow, which is as expensive as life, died.

My mother was busy burning wood and cooking on the stove. When she saw a fat yellow cat jumping on the kang, she yelled at the cat to leave. Who knows that the cat doesn't care about her mother's roar at all, pulls open the sparrow's lifter, picks up the sparrow and runs out. Mother threw a broom at the cat. The cat was afraid to leave the sparrow and ran away. However, my little sparrow has been killed by a cat.

I feel sad and want to complain about my mother. When I saw my mother angry, my eyes and hers were a little red. I held back. Because mom is actually very sad and reluctant to part with the sparrow.

I silently picked up the sparrow and found an empty paper box with the medicine my mother had taken. With the body of a sparrow, I ran out of the house with tears in my eyes and ran to the pumpkin patch opposite me. I chose a place that I think is easy to remember and find. Dig a ditch and bury the sparrow. Then, like burying people, a small grave was built. With a mugwort stick, I tied a circle of mourning sticks. After that, I left the pumpkin patch silently and sadly.

After many years, the land was rectified. The land belongs to others, but I will remember the place where the sparrow was buried. Until that piece of land, the black family approved the homestead and built a cave, and the sparrow's grave was never found.

Since then, I have never kept sparrows. I'm afraid the birds will mention my sadness again. However, after decades, I still can't forget that experience. Often when I can't see the place where the sparrow is buried, I imagine what it was like in those days and how I buried the sparrow with tears in my eyes.

My little sparrow!