彩虹鸽接受教育

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.

鸟类世界中有两种甜美可爱的情景：一种是母鸟啄开蛋壳迎接小宝宝出生的时刻，另一种是母鸟哺育小宝宝的时刻。彩虹鸽得到了鸽爸爸和鸽妈妈最精心的抚育。对他来说，这种抚育就像对人类子女的拥抱一样，会给无助者带来温暖和幸福。对小鸟来说，这就像食物一样必不可少。这个时候，鸽巢里就不应该塞太多的棉花或法兰绒，而应该塞得越来越少，以免鸽巢的温度过高。一些无知的鸽迷不明白，随着小鸽子越长越大，他自己的体内会散发出越来越多的热量。我认为，这段时间频繁清扫鸽巢并不明智。鸽爸爸和鸽妈妈允许留在鸽巢里的一切，都有助于他们的宝宝感到舒适和快乐。

我还清晰地记得，从出生的第二天起，每当鸽爸爸或鸽妈妈飞回鸽巢的时候，小彩虹鸽就自动张开嘴巴，像风箱似的展开肉红色的身体。鸽爸爸或鸽妈妈把自己的嘴伸进他张大的嘴里，送进他们吃过的小米粒在自己的器官里形成的乳状物。我注意到了这一点；送进他嘴里的这种食物很软。即便到鸽宝宝快一个月大的时候，鸽爸爸或鸽妈妈还是会把种粒在自己的嗉囊里留一段时间，让食物软化，然后再让它进入鸽宝宝娇弱的胃部。

我们的彩虹鸽食量大得惊人。鸽爸爸和鸽妈妈分工协作，一个忙着去寻找食物，另一个伏窝守着他。我想，鸽爸爸伏窝为他辛劳，辛苦程度不亚于鸽妈妈。难怪彩虹鸽长得胖乎乎的。他从肉红色变成了黄白色——这是羽毛长出来的第一个迹象。随后，他的身上就出现了一些刺一般的白色羽毛，圆圆的，有些硬，像豪猪针似的。挂在嘴巴和眼睛周围的黄色胎记渐渐消失了。喙也慢慢地长出来了，牢牢的，尖尖的，长长的。多么有力的下颚啊！彩虹鸽大约三个星期大的时候，一只蚂蚁经过彩虹鸽的身边，想爬进鸽巢，彩虹鸽就卧在鸽巢入口。谁也没有告诉他怎么做，他就用嘴去啄蚂蚁。原来完整的蚂蚁，现在变成了两半，躺在了那里。彩虹鸽低下头，凑近那只死蚂蚁，查看自己刚刚做了什么。毫无疑问，他把黑色的蚂蚁当成了种粒，啄死了一个无辜的过路者。蚂蚁对鸽类是友好的。让我们希望他为此惭愧吧。反正，他此后再也没有啄死过一只蚂蚁。

等长到五个星期大的时候，彩虹鸽就能跳出鸽巢，到那只留在鸽巢附近的盘子里去喝水了。虽说现在他还得让父母亲喂养，但他每天都在设法自己寻找食物。他有时会站在我的手腕上，从我的手掌里啄起一粒种粒。他像玩杂耍的人向空中抛球一样，把食物在喉咙里抛接两三次，然后才一口吞下。彩虹鸽每次这样做的时候，都会转过头，望着我的眼睛，好像在说：“我做得不好吗？等我的父母亲从房顶晒完太阳飞下来的时候，你一定要告诉他们我有多聪明。”然而在我喂养的所有鸽子中，彩虹鸽在能力发展方面仍然是最慢的。

就在那段时间，我有了新的发现。我以前从来不知道鸽子如何能在沙尘暴中飞行而不会失明。但是，在我观察彩虹鸽逐渐长大的过程中，有一天我注意到他的眼睛上蒙着一层薄膜。我以为他要失明了。惊慌失措之中，我伸出一只手，想把他拉近到我面前，以便仔细检查他。我刚一伸手，他就睁开了金色的眼睛，退到了鸽巢的后部。不过，我照样抓住了他，把他带到房顶上，在五月火热的阳光下仔细观察他的眼睑。是的，我终于恍然大悟：彩虹鸽的眼睑上附有一层纸巾般的纤细薄膜，每当我把他的脸对着太阳的时候，他就会把那层薄膜盖在金色的眼睑上面。这下我知道了，正是这层保护膜才使得这只鸟可以在沙尘暴中飞行或径直飞向太阳。

随后的两个星期，彩虹鸽要学习如何飞行。尽管彩虹鸽天生是鸟，但要学会飞行根本不容易。小孩子可能喜欢水，但在学习游泳技巧的时候，也肯定都会犯错误，呛几口水。我的鸽子也类似。他张开翅膀的时候有些将信将疑，连续几个小时都站在房顶上，天边吹来的风也没有让他更快地飞起来。为了说清当时的情况，让我给你描述一下我的房顶。房顶四周围有结实的水泥墙，有十四岁的男孩子那样高。夏夜，我们大多数人都会睡在房顶上，那道墙甚至可以阻止梦游者从四楼顶上滑下来。

我每天都把彩虹鸽放在那道水泥墙上。他迎风站在那里，一站就是好几个小时，但仅此而已。有一天，我在房顶上放了一些花生，叫他跳下来啄。他用探询的目光看了我一会儿，然后又把目光从我身上转开，低头看着那些花生。他把这个过程重复了好几次。当最后确信我不会把这美味可口的食物送上来给他吃的时候，他就开始在护栏上走来走去，不时地伸长脖子想去啄大约三英尺以下的那些花生。最终，过了伤心犹豫的十五分钟之后，他跳了下来。就在他的脚触地的时候，因为要在坚果上保持身体平衡，他就突然张开了迄今还没有张开过的翅膀，犹如鼓起了一面风帆。多么了不起的胜利啊！

大约就在这个时候，我注意到了彩虹鸽羽毛颜色的变化。他的羽毛不再是毫不起眼的灰蓝色，而是一种富有光泽的海蓝色，令他浑身上下绚丽夺目。突然，在一天早晨，他的頸部在阳光下像彩虹珠一样闪耀。

如今就到了飞行这个最重要的问题了。我期待他的爸爸妈妈教他第一课。不过，我还是尽我所能，采取我唯一会的方式来帮助他。我每天都让他在我的手腕上站几分钟，然后我会多次上下晃动胳膊；为了在如此高难度的位置上保持平衡，他不得不频繁地张合翅膀。这对他有好处，但我教的这部分到此为止。你也许会问，我为什么对这些事情如此着急。一是彩虹鸽学习飞行课已经落后了，二是印度六月份就开始下雨了，随着雨季来临，任何长途飞行都不可能了。我希望能尽快教他学会辨别方向。

然而，五月底前的一天，鸽爸爸承担了这项任务。在这个特别的日子里，一直到处横扫、冷却城市空气的凛冽北风刚刚停息了。天空像透明的蓝宝石一般清澈。视野如此清晰，你可以看到我们城市的一座座房顶，以及乡村最远处的一块块田野和一处处凉亭。下午大约三点钟，彩虹鸽亲自站在房顶的水泥墙上晒太阳。一直在空中飞来飞去的鸽爸爸这时飞下来，落在他的身边，用奇怪的目光看着儿子，好像在说：“嘿，懒骨头，你都快三个月大了，却还不敢飞行。你是鸽子还是蚯蚓啊？”但是，这个拥有高贵灵魂的彩虹鸽没有回答。这激怒了鸽爸爸。鸽爸爸开始用鸽语咕咕噜噜地冲他叫起来。为了摆脱那种咕咕噜噜的鸽语，彩虹鸽挪动了一下。但是，鸽爸爸跟在他的后面，咕咕噜噜叫个不停，并且猛击他的翅膀。彩虹鸽继续越挪越远；鸽爸爸没有心软，而是加倍地咕咕噜噜，紧追不舍。最后，鸽爸爸将彩虹鸽推到了最边缘，彩虹鸽只有一个选择，那就是滑下房顶。突然，鸽爸爸将自己整个身体的重量都压在了彩虹鸽幼小的身体上。彩虹鸽滑了下去。他刚滑下半英尺，就张开翅膀，飞了起来。噢，对所有关心的人来说，这是一个多么令人振奋的时刻啊！此时，鸽妈妈正在楼下，蘸着水进行午后的梳洗，于是她穿过楼梯上来，飞过去，陪伴她的儿子。他们在房顶上盘旋了至少十分钟后，才飞下来栖息。当他们到达房顶的时候，鸽妈妈很自然地收拢翅膀，落在那里。她的儿子却不是这样：他惊慌失措，就像一个小男孩走进又冷又深的水里一样。他浑身颤抖，拍打翅膀，拼命滑过，以便保持平衡，落下的时候两只脚小心翼翼地踩住房顶。最后，他胸脯碰在墙壁上，终于停了下来，像我们合拢扇子一样飞快地收拢翅膀。彩虹鸽因兴奋而气喘吁吁，这时鸽妈妈抚摩着他，用胸脯依偎着他，仿佛他只是一个急需喂养的小宝宝。看到自己的任务圆满完成，鸽爸爸就飞到楼下洗澡去了。

1. brood： 孵蛋。

2. juggle： 玩杂耍；juggler： 变戏法者，魔术师。

3. consternation： 惊慌失措，惊愕。

4. nondescript： 没有特点的；aquamarine： 海蓝色。

5. volubility： 喋喋不休。