A Little Sparrow
Lao She

As soon as the rain stopped, a little sparrow, almost full-fledged,flew into the courtyard. It hopped, fluttered, darting up to the edge of flowerpots and back to the ground again. Watching it move up and down a couple oftimes, I realized that it could not fly any higher as the plumes on its leftwing had got twisted with one sticking out as if about to come off. When I madean attempt to move closer, it jumped off a bit and stopped again, staring backat me with its small, black and bean-like eyes that had a mixed look of wantingto be friends with me and not being certain that I was trustworthy. It occurredto me that this must be a tame bird, having been caged since it was hatchedperhaps. No wonder it was not much scared of my presence. Its left wing mighthave been impaired by some kid and that was why there was distrust in its lookthough it showed some intimacy with man. Suddenly I was seized with sadness.How miserable it was for a bird to lose its wings! Without someone taking careof it this small thing could not survive. But man had injured its wing. Howcruel he was! Injured as it was, it still wanted to rely on man. How pitiable!The look in its eyes showed that the little creature was of two minds. It wassmall and by no means pretty, yet its gestures and expressions revealed that ithad been wronged and landed in a difficult situation. It was anxious to keepits delicate life out of danger, but it did not know what to do. It had littleconfidence in itself and less trust in man, but it needed someone to rely on.It hopped and stopped, looking at me but too shy to come over. I thought offetching some cooked rice to attract it, but I dared not leave it alone lest itshould be attacked by the kitten. As the kitten was not around at the moment, Ihurried to the kitchen and came back with a few grains only to find the bindmissing. I ran to the outer yard and saw the kitten crouching by a flower potin front of the screen wall. I hastened to drive her away but, with a quickjump, she caught hold of the bird. The tame sparrow, with its tail and clawsdangling from the kitten's mouth, did not even know how to struggle. It lookedmore dead than alive. With my eyes fixed on the bird, I watched the kitten runfirst to the kitchen and then to the ram at the west end. I was afraid to presshard after her, but I had to follow her in case she should tighten her jaws.Though the bird's head was not visible to me, the look of anticipated danger inits eyes was vivid in my wind. Between its look and my sympathy stood thatsmall white cat. Having run a few rounds after her I quit, thinking it waspointless to chase her like that because, by the time I caught her, the birdwould have been half dead. When the cat slipped back to the kitchen again, Ihesitated for a second and then hurried over there too. It seemed, in my mind'seye, the little bird were pleading for help with its two black bean-like eyes.

In the kitchen I noticed the cat was crouching by a tin pipe whichwas installed as smoke duct in winter and dismantled in spring, at the corner,but the bird was not with her. The pipe leaned against the corner and, betweenits lower end and the floor; there was an opening through which the cat wasprobing with her paws. My hope revived: the bird was not dead. As the kittenwas less than four months old, it had not learned how to catch mice, or how tokill for that matter. It was merely holding the bird in its mouth and havingfun with it. While I was thinking along these lines the little bird suddenlyemerged and the kitten, taken aback, bolted backward. The way the little birdlooked was so registered to me at the first glance that I felt like shutting myeyes immediately. It was virtually crouching, with its chest close to thefloor, like a man suffering from a stomachache. There was no stain of blood onits body, but it seemed to be shrinking up into itself. Its head dropped low,its small beak pointing to the floor. Its two black eyes, unseeing, were veryblack and large, looking lost. The little life left in it was al in the eyes.It seemed to be expecting the cat to charge again, with no strength to resistor run; or wishing that the cat would be kind enough to pardon it or that somesaviour would come along to its rescue. Life and death coexisted in its eyes. Ithought the bin must be confused or stunned, or else why should it have comeout from the pipe? Stunned as it was, it still cherished some hope which,though hard to define, was the source of life. With that hope it gazed at thefloor, expecting either to survive or die. I was so really scared that itbecame completely motionless, leaving itself all to the precarious hope. Itkept quiet and still as if waiting for its life to flow out of its eyes.

The kitten made no more attempts to attack it. She only tried totouch it with her little paws. As the kitten touched it, it tilted from side toside, its head undisturbed and its eyes looking blank at the floor. It wouldnot fight back so long as there was a chance of survival. But the bird had notlost all of its courage; it acted this way only with the cat. I went overlight-footed, picked up the cat and put her outside the door, the sparrowremaining where it was. When I took it up in my hands and looked, it was riotseriously injured, though some fluff had come off its chest. It was looking atme.

I had no idea what to do. If I let it go, it was sure to die; if I keptit with me, I did not have a cage for it. I held it in my hands as if holdingall the lives in the world, not knowing what to do. The sparrow huddled up,motionless, its eyes as black as ever, still expectant. It remained that wayfor a long while. I took it to my bedroom, put it on the desk and watched itfor a few moments. Suddenly it tilted its head left and then right, winking itsblack eyes once or twice, and became still again. By now its body seemed tohave stretched a bit, but it still kept its head low as if it had understoodsomething.