twenty-seven pond heron

(I published article 27 before, but that article was too sloppy, so I revised it and republished it.)

I arrived yesterday evening. Unexpectedly, the moonlight here was also cool. My original intention was to come in the summer, when I look better. The important things I like to do in the summer, when I'm pretty, are mostly unfinished. It's autumn now.

A friend of mine was almost caught one day and stewed into a pot of medicinal soup. It was frightened, had a brain disorder, and believed that there were many birds hidden in its body. He had insomnia every night because the birds were all like owls, more excited at night than during the day. Lack of sleep aggravated its condition. Friends also said that the birds hiding in its body were all hunted by the same person and fled in all directions. Finally, they found that its body was the best shelter. What kind of birds are there? White-bellied Fishdog, Red-tailed Waterbird, Little Bunting, Cardinal, Red-necked Thrush, Indigo Bunting, Black-winged Stilt, and more, and even you. Even you have to hide here and there. Who is the person chasing you? My friend is just a common pond heron, so why is he qualified for the role of a shelter? We have questioned our friends about this, hoping to help it clear its mind and bring it back to the real world, but to no avail. A poor, insane bird, no one can force it to follow logic.

It keeps mouthing all day long. Talk to the bird in your body, sigh, laugh, scream. Later, it talked to itself less and became more interested in chatting with us using other identities. Today it is a white-bellied fish dog, tomorrow it is a red-necked thrush, and the day after tomorrow it is a cardinal; or it may have twenty-four identities in one day. Gradually, it forgets what it is. One time during the summer, the most beautiful time of the year for me, it said it was an Andean condor. Looking around, I could not find the mountains that raised it. It stood on a protruding rock on the hill near the sea and asked me why the snow on the top of the mountain melted.

It asked me to peck off the feathers on its head and neck, otherwise the carrion and blood would stain its head when eating, making it difficult to clean. It tried riding the updrafts to high altitudes, swinging in the wind like a kite. It is proud of its strong claws, its sharp beak, and its wide wings. I was affected by its emotions, as if I could really see that Chilu was still a close friend and was no longer the same as us.

It stood on a protruding rock on the hill near the sea, stretching its neck as if it had no natural enemies. The setting sun hung on its beak, and at that moment I fell in love. It was indeed an Andean condor, my friend was not insane, and indeed there were many birds hiding in its body. Those birds had no choice but to give up their bodies in order to save their lives. My friend is not strong and smart, but he has a big heart, is infinitely tolerant, and is willing to share his body with other birds. This is why the birds choose him as a shelter.

I have no romantic interest in my friend, I am only passionate about the Andean condor that day. After that, I often stayed with my friends, just waiting for the condor to show up again. Summer turned to autumn, my feathers became dull again, and then came winter. I couldn't wait for my lover, but you showed up. You say to us, and to the birds in your friends’ bodies, that the people chasing them have finally given up, and it’s time to leave the sanctuary and return to their own lives.

Then, you, or maybe my friend, or all the birds in it, stand on the branch with your mouth open for many hours, so that the birds can leave the throat, but the exit is not there. Then, it took the initiative to pounce on the hunter's gun and let the bullet shoot through itself.

"They can finally fly freely. Phoenix, you can also go back to the valley and see the birds that miss you." These were my friend's last words. I came here just to see if you are really back. If I can see you, then the Andean condor will return to its mountain range, and I can go find it.

Your absence diminishes my hopes. In fact, even if you are here, what can I be sure of and what can I hope for with all my heart? Before my friend died, I called out to the condor and asked if it would return to the snow-covered Andes Mountains all year round and how I could find it, but I got no response. The Andes are a long way away, but it's probably easier to fly there than to the valley, but I didn't go there directly. Isn't the answer obvious? I still suspected that my friend was simply insane and that the Andean condor I loved never existed. Perhaps, only when the love object actually exists can I be sure that my love and attachment are real, and only then can I dare to suffer and even risk my life for it.

On the way to the valley, I encountered an Andean condor. Its curved beak seemed to hurt my eyes, and the wind it stirred up made my crops tremble. I wanted to go up and talk to it, but its wings refused to obey me and led me to escape. I hid in a secluded place for many days, ending summer early and abandoning my gorgeous feathers. To tell you the truth, if my lover really looked like that, I would not dare to get close to him at all. Fear would easily crush my love. In fact, is it possible that what attracts me is just the Andean condor that looks like a friend? My friend's physical body has long since disappeared, and half of my lover has been lost, the tangible half. The other half is invisible. Even if it still exists, it can never be touched.

Note: Pond heron is a wading bird of the genus Pond heron in the family Pelicanidae, with a body length of 42 to 52 cm. The female and male birds are the same color. The breeding season is from March to July, when they put on their gorgeous feathers.

The Andean condor is a scavenging bird in the family Accipitrididae. It has a body length of 100 to 130 centimeters, a weight of up to 10 kilograms, and a wingspan of over 3 meters. It is the largest bird in the world.