By Dhan Gopal Mukerji

There are two sweet sights in the bird world： one when the mother breaks open her egg in order to bring to light her child， and the other when she broods1 and feeds him. Gay-Neck was brooded most affectionately by both his parents. This brooding did for him what cuddling does for human children. It gives the helpless ones warmth and happiness. It is as necessary to them as food. This is the time when a pigeonhole should not be stuffed with too much cotton or flannel， which should be put there more and more sparingly so that the temperature of the nest does not get too hot. Ignorant pigeon fanciers do not realize that as the baby grows larger he puts forth more and more heat from his own body. And I think it is wise not to clean the nest frequently during this time. Everything that the parents allow to remain in the nest contributes to making their baby comfortable and happy.

I remember distinctly how， from the second day of his birth， little Gay-Neck automatically opened his beak and expanded his carnation-coloured body like a bellows every time one of his parents flew back to their nest. The father or the mother put their beaks into his wide-open mouth and poured into it the milk made in their own organs from millet seeds that they had eaten. I noticed this； the food that was poured into his mouth was very soft. No pigeon ever gives any seeds to its baby even when it is nearly a month old without first keeping them in its throat for some time， which softens the food before it enters the delicate stomach of the baby.

Our Gay-Neck was a tremendous eater. He kept one of his parents busy getting food while the other brooded or stayed with him. I think the father bird brooded and worked for him no less hard than the mother. No wonder his body grew very fat. His carnation colour changed into a yellowish-white—the first sign of feathers coming on. Then that gave way to prickly white feathers， round and somewhat stiff， like a porcupine needle. The yellow things that hung about his mouth and eyes fell away. Slowly the beak emerged， firm， sharp and long. What a powerful jaw！ When he was about three weeks old， an ant was crawling past him into the pigeonhole at whose entrance he was sitting. Without any instruction from anybody he struck it with his beak. Where there had been a whole ant now lay its two halves. He brought his nose down to the dead ant and examined what he had done. There was no doubt that he had taken that black ant for a seed， and killed an innocent passer-by who was friendly to his race. Let us hope he was ashamed of it. Anyway， he never killed another ant the rest of his life.

By the time he was five weeks old he could hop out of his birth-nest and take a drink from the pan of water left near the pigeonholes. Even now he had to be fed by his parents， though every day he tried to get food on his own account. He would sit on my wrist and dig up a seed at a time from the palm of my hand. He juggled it two or three times in his throat like a juggler throwing up balls in the air，2 and swallowed it. Every time Gay-neck did that， he turned his head and looked into my eyes as much as to say： “Am I not doing it well？ You must tell my parents how clever I am when they come down from sunning themselves on the roof.” All the same， he was the slowest of my pigeons in developing his powers.

Just at this time I made a discovery. I never knew before how pigeons could fly in a dust-storm without going blind. But as I watched the evergrowing Gay-Neck， I noticed one day that a film was drawn over his eyes. I thought he was losing his sight. In my consternation3 I put forth my hand to draw him nearer to my face in order to examine him closely. No sooner had I made the gesture than he opened his golden eyes and receded into the rear of the hole. But just the same I caught him and took him up on the roof， and in the burning sunlight of May I scrutinised his eyelids. Yes， there it was： he had， attached to his eyelid， another thin lid as delicate as tissue-paper， and every time I put his face toward the sun he drew that film over the two orbits of gold. And so I learned that it was a protective film for the eye that enabled the bird to fly in a duststorm or straight toward the sun.

In another fortnight Gay-Neck was taught how to fly. It was not at all easy， bird though he was by birth. A human child may love the water， yet he has to make mistakes and swallow water while learning the art of swimming. Similarly with my pigeon. He had a mild distrust of opening his wings， and for hours he sat on our roof， where the winds of the sky blew without quickening him to flight. In order to make the situation clear， let me describe our roof to you. It was railed with a solid concrete wall as high as a boy of fourteen. That prevented even a sleepwalker from slipping off the height of four stories on summer nights， when most of us slept on the roof.

Gay-Neck I put on that concrete wall every day. There he sat for hours at a time， facing the wind， but that was all. One day I put some peanuts on the roof and called him to hop down and get them. He looked at me with an inquiring eye for a few moments. Turning from me， he looked down again at the peanuts. He repeated this process several times. When at last he was convinced that I was not going to bring these delicious morsels up for him to eat， he began to walk up and down the railing， craning his neck occasionally towards the peanuts about three feet below. At last， after fifteen minutes of heartbreaking hesitancy， he hopped down. Just as his feet struck the floor， his wings， hitherto unopened， suddenly spread themselves out full sail as he balanced himself over the nuts. What a triumph！

About this time I noticed the change of colours on his feathers. Instead of a nondescript grey-blue， a glossy aquamarine glowed all over him.4 And suddenly one morning in the sunlight his throat glistened like iridescent beads.

Now came the supreme question of flight. I waited for his parents to teach him the first lessons， though I helped the only way I could. Every day for a few minutes I made him perch on my wrist； then I would swing my arm up and down many times， and in order to balance himself on such a difficult perch he had to shut and open his wings frequently. That was good for him， but there ended my part of the teaching. You may ask me the reason of my hurrying matters so. He was already behind in his flying lessons， and in June the rains begin to fall in India； and with the approach of the rainy season any long flight becomes impossible. I wished to train him in learning his directions as soon as I could.

However， one day long before the end of May， his father undertook the task. This particular day a brisk north wind， which had been sweeping about and cooling the atmosphere of the city， had just died down. The sky was as clear as a limpid sapphire. The spaces were so clear that you could see the housetops of our town， then the fields and arbours of the country in the farthest distance. About three oclock in the afternoon， Gay-Neck was sunning himself on the concrete wall of the roof. His father， who had been flying about in the air， came down and perched next to him. He looked at his son with a queer glance， as much as to say： “Here， lazy-bones， you are nearly three months old， yet you do not dare to fly. Are you a pigeon or an earthworm？” But Gay-Neck， the soul of dignity， made no answer. That exasperated his father， who began to coo and boom at him in pigeon-language. In order to get away from that volubility5， Gay-Neck moved； but his father followed， cooing， booming and banging his wings. Gay-Neck went on removing himself farther and farther； and the old fellow， instead of relenting， redoubled his talk， and pursued. At last the father pushed him so close to the edge that Gay-Neck had only one alternative， that is， to slip off the roof. Suddenly his father thrust upon his young body all the weight of his old frame. GayNeck slipped. Hardly had he fallen half a foot when he opened his wings， and flew. Oh， what an exhilarating moment for all concerned！ His mother， who was downstairs dipping herself in the water， and performing her afternoon toilet， came up through the staircase and flew to keep her son company. They circled above the roof for at least ten minutes before they came down to perch. When they reached the roof the mother folded her wings as a matter of course， and sat still. Not so the son： he was in a panic， like a boy walking into cold and deep water. His whole body shook， and his feet trod the roof gingerly as he alighted， skating over it furiously and flapping his wings in order to balance himself. At last he stopped， as his chest struck the side of the wall， and he folded his wings as swiftly as we shut a fan. Gay-Neck was panting with excitement， while his mother rubbed him and placed her chest against him as if he were a mere baby who badly needed brooding. Seeing that his task had been done successfully， Gay-Necks father went down to take his bath.

鳥類世界中有兩種甜美可愛的情景：一種是母鳥啄開蛋殼迎接小寶寶出生的時刻，另一種是母鳥哺育小寶寶的時刻。彩虹鴿得到了鴿爸爸和鴿媽媽最精心的撫育。對他來說，這種撫育就像對人類子女的擁抱一樣，會給無助者帶來溫暖和幸福。對小鳥來說，這就像食物一樣必不可少。這個時候，鴿巢里就不應該塞太多的棉花或法蘭絨，而應該塞得越來越少，以免鴿巢的溫度過高。一些無知的鴿迷不明白，隨著小鴿子越長越大，他自己的體內(nèi)會散發(fā)出越來越多的熱量。我認為，這段時間頻繁清掃鴿巢并不明智。鴿爸爸和鴿媽媽允許留在鴿巢里的一切，都有助于他們的寶寶感到舒適和快樂。

我還清晰地記得，從出生的第二天起，每當鴿爸爸或鴿媽媽飛回鴿巢的時候，小彩虹鴿就自動張開嘴巴，像風箱似的展開肉紅色的身體。鴿爸爸或鴿媽媽把自己的嘴伸進他張大的嘴里，送進他們吃過的小米粒在自己的器官里形成的乳狀物。我注意到了這一點；送進他嘴里的這種食物很軟。即便到鴿寶寶快一個月大的時候，鴿爸爸或鴿媽媽還是會把種粒在自己的嗉囊里留一段時間，讓食物軟化，然后再讓它進入鴿寶寶嬌弱的胃部。

我們的彩虹鴿食量大得驚人。鴿爸爸和鴿媽媽分工協(xié)作，一個忙著去尋找食物，另一個伏窩守著他。我想，鴿爸爸伏窩為他辛勞，辛苦程度不亞于鴿媽媽。難怪彩虹鴿長得胖乎乎的。他從肉紅色變成了黃白色——這是羽毛長出來的第一個跡象。隨后，他的身上就出現(xiàn)了一些刺一般的白色羽毛，圓圓的，有些硬，像豪豬針似的。掛在嘴巴和眼睛周圍的黃色胎記漸漸消失了。喙也慢慢地長出來了，牢牢的，尖尖的，長長的。多么有力的下顎啊！彩虹鴿大約三個星期大的時候，一只螞蟻經(jīng)過彩虹鴿的身邊，想爬進鴿巢，彩虹鴿就臥在鴿巢入口。誰也沒有告訴他怎么做，他就用嘴去啄螞蟻。原來完整的螞蟻，現(xiàn)在變成了兩半，躺在了那里。彩虹鴿低下頭，湊近那只死螞蟻，查看自己剛剛做了什么。毫無疑問，他把黑色的螞蟻當成了種粒，啄死了一個無辜的過路者。螞蟻對鴿類是友好的。讓我們希望他為此慚愧吧。反正，他此后再也沒有啄死過一只螞蟻。

等長到五個星期大的時候，彩虹鴿就能跳出鴿巢，到那只留在鴿巢附近的盤子里去喝水了。雖說現(xiàn)在他還得讓父母親喂養(yǎng)，但他每天都在設法自己尋找食物。他有時會站在我的手腕上，從我的手掌里啄起一粒種粒。他像玩雜耍的人向空中拋球一樣，把食物在喉嚨里拋接兩三次，然后才一口吞下。彩虹鴿每次這樣做的時候，都會轉(zhuǎn)過頭，望著我的眼睛，好像在說：“我做得不好嗎？等我的父母親從房頂曬完太陽飛下來的時候，你一定要告訴他們我有多聰明。”然而在我喂養(yǎng)的所有鴿子中，彩虹鴿在能力發(fā)展方面仍然是最慢的。

就在那段時間，我有了新的發(fā)現(xiàn)。我以前從來不知道鴿子如何能在沙塵暴中飛行而不會失明。但是，在我觀察彩虹鴿逐漸長大的過程中，有一天我注意到他的眼睛上蒙著一層薄膜。我以為他要失明了。驚慌失措之中，我伸出一只手，想把他拉近到我面前，以便仔細檢查他。我剛一伸手，他就睜開了金色的眼睛，退到了鴿巢的后部。不過，我照樣抓住了他，把他帶到房頂上，在五月火熱的陽光下仔細觀察他的眼瞼。是的，我終于恍然大悟：彩虹鴿的眼瞼上附有一層紙巾般的纖細薄膜，每當我把他的臉對著太陽的時候，他就會把那層薄膜蓋在金色的眼瞼上面。這下我知道了，正是這層保護膜才使得這只鳥可以在沙塵暴中飛行或徑直飛向太陽。

隨后的兩個星期，彩虹鴿要學習如何飛行。盡管彩虹鴿天生是鳥，但要學會飛行根本不容易。小孩子可能喜歡水，但在學習游泳技巧的時候，也肯定都會犯錯誤，嗆幾口水。我的鴿子也類似。他張開翅膀的時候有些將信將疑，連續(xù)幾個小時都站在房頂上，天邊吹來的風也沒有讓他更快地飛起來。為了說清當時的情況，讓我給你描述一下我的房頂。房頂四周圍有結(jié)實的水泥墻，有十四歲的男孩子那樣高。夏夜，我們大多數(shù)人都會睡在房頂上，那道墻甚至可以阻止夢游者從四樓頂上滑下來。

我每天都把彩虹鴿放在那道水泥墻上。他迎風站在那里，一站就是好幾個小時，但僅此而已。有一天，我在房頂上放了一些花生，叫他跳下來啄。他用探詢的目光看了我一會兒，然后又把目光從我身上轉(zhuǎn)開，低頭看著那些花生。他把這個過程重復了好幾次。當最后確信我不會把這美味可口的食物送上來給他吃的時候，他就開始在護欄上走來走去，不時地伸長脖子想去啄大約三英尺以下的那些花生。最終，過了傷心猶豫的十五分鐘之后，他跳了下來。就在他的腳觸地的時候，因為要在堅果上保持身體平衡，他就突然張開了迄今還沒有張開過的翅膀，猶如鼓起了一面風帆。多么了不起的勝利??！

大約就在這個時候，我注意到了彩虹鴿羽毛顏色的變化。他的羽毛不再是毫不起眼的灰藍色，而是一種富有光澤的海藍色，令他渾身上下絢麗奪目。突然，在一天早晨，他的頸部在陽光下像彩虹珠一樣閃耀。

如今就到了飛行這個最重要的問題了。我期待他的爸爸媽媽教他第一課。不過，我還是盡我所能，采取我唯一會的方式來幫助他。我每天都讓他在我的手腕上站幾分鐘，然后我會多次上下晃動胳膊；為了在如此高難度的位置上保持平衡，他不得不頻繁地張合翅膀。這對他有好處，但我教的這部分到此為止。你也許會問，我為什么對這些事情如此著急。一是彩虹鴿學習飛行課已經(jīng)落后了，二是印度六月份就開始下雨了，隨著雨季來臨，任何長途飛行都不可能了。我希望能盡快教他學會辨別方向。

然而，五月底前的一天，鴿爸爸承擔了這項任務。在這個特別的日子里，一直到處橫掃、冷卻城市空氣的凜冽北風剛剛停息了。天空像透明的藍寶石一般清澈。視野如此清晰，你可以看到我們城市的一座座房頂，以及鄉(xiāng)村最遠處的一塊塊田野和一處處涼亭。下午大約三點鐘，彩虹鴿親自站在房頂?shù)乃鄩ι蠒裉?。一直在空中飛來飛去的鴿爸爸這時飛下來，落在他的身邊，用奇怪的目光看著兒子，好像在說：“嘿，懶骨頭，你都快三個月大了，卻還不敢飛行。你是鴿子還是蚯蚓?。俊钡?，這個擁有高貴靈魂的彩虹鴿沒有回答。這激怒了鴿爸爸。鴿爸爸開始用鴿語咕咕嚕嚕地沖他叫起來。為了擺脫那種咕咕嚕嚕的鴿語，彩虹鴿挪動了一下。但是，鴿爸爸跟在他的后面，咕咕嚕嚕叫個不停，并且猛擊他的翅膀。彩虹鴿繼續(xù)越挪越遠；鴿爸爸沒有心軟，而是加倍地咕咕嚕嚕，緊追不舍。最后，鴿爸爸將彩虹鴿推到了最邊緣，彩虹鴿只有一個選擇，那就是滑下房頂。突然，鴿爸爸將自己整個身體的重量都壓在了彩虹鴿幼小的身體上。彩虹鴿滑了下去。他剛滑下半英尺，就張開翅膀，飛了起來。噢，對所有關(guān)心的人來說，這是一個多么令人振奮的時刻??！此時，鴿媽媽正在樓下，蘸著水進行午后的梳洗，于是她穿過樓梯上來，飛過去，陪伴她的兒子。他們在房頂上盤旋了至少十分鐘后，才飛下來棲息。當他們到達房頂?shù)臅r候，鴿媽媽很自然地收攏翅膀，落在那里。她的兒子卻不是這樣：他驚慌失措，就像一個小男孩走進又冷又深的水里一樣。他渾身顫抖，拍打翅膀，拼命滑過，以便保持平衡，落下的時候兩只腳小心翼翼地踩住房頂。最后，他胸脯碰在墻壁上，終于停了下來，像我們合攏扇子一樣飛快地收攏翅膀。彩虹鴿因興奮而氣喘吁吁，這時鴿媽媽撫摩著他，用胸脯依偎著他，仿佛他只是一個急需喂養(yǎng)的小寶寶?？吹阶约旱娜蝿請A滿完成，鴿爸爸就飛到樓下洗澡去了。

1. brood： 孵蛋。

2. juggle： 玩雜耍；juggler： 變戲法者，魔術(shù)師。

3. consternation： 驚慌失措，驚愕。

4. nondescript： 沒有特點的；aquamarine： 海藍色。

5. volubility： 喋喋不休。