健忘的画眉蓝曼阅读答案

发布网友 发布时间：2024-10-23 21:32

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热心网友 时间：2024-11-01 21:40

健忘的画眉
那天，我刚刚走进滨河公园，便听到从小树林中传出了画眉的叫声。顺声走去，我看见一只画眉正在花坛里跳来跳去。我仔细观察，寻找它腿上应该有的细索，结果没有看到。啊，这是一只跳出樊笼自由的鸟儿。它自由自在地，一会儿跳上月季的花枝，扬起头来歌唱一阵，一会儿又跳进草丛里，尾巴一翘一翘，向我张望。它那得意的神态，确实招人喜爱。
在离它不远的草地上，有一只鸟笼。涂了漆的竹篾儿，根根洁净、整齐。笼顶上的那个大笼钩儿，锃明瓦亮。笼门上还挂着一个大红绒穗子，好看极了。若与住房比拟，这可算是一幢相当豪华的住宅了。
在附近的马缨花树下，一位老人正坐着打瞌睡。看来，他就是鸟笼的主人。他听到我的脚步声，睁开了睡眼。我主动向他打招呼：
“老师傅，你的画眉逃出了笼子！”
“是的，让它散散步。”
“不怕它飞走了么？”我说。
老人望了望我，又冷冷一笑：“飞走，往哪儿飞！它舍不得那个食罐儿！”
我望望食罐儿，并没有什么特殊之处，只不过是细瓷印有一枝梅花罢了。罐中的鸟食是些黄澄澄的颗粒，有一缕野草的清香散发出来。这不外乎把泡软了的小米拌上煮熟了的蛋黄，也许又加了一点什么香料之类，没有什么稀奇。
我把我的看法向老人说了。他摇了摇头，没有说什么，只冲着我微笑。我不好再追问他，也许在养鸟这门学问里面，各有各的绝招儿，其中奥秘不愿告人。
这里我瞧见那只自由的鸟儿，从从容容地走进了笼门儿。啪的一声，老人随后把笼门关上。画眉得意洋洋，立在食罐上正啄食那黄澄澄的颗粒。我走出公园想着，那食罐里放了什么样的“迷魂药”，竟使一只美丽的画眉，只会唱歌而忘却了自己的一双翅膀？！

The Forgetful Song Thrush
The other day when I went into Riverside Park, I was greeted by the chirrup of a song thrush froma grove. Walking towards the sound I saw the thrush hopping about in a flower bed. I lookedcarefully trying to spot a tiny piece of string that should have been fastened to its leg, but in vain.Ah, it must have escaped from its cage. It was a free bird! One moment it jumped onto a rosespray and sang with its head high, the next it plunged into the grass and looked at me with its tailwaving up and down. Its proud and self-satisfied manner was really enchanting.
Not far from the bird on the grass was a bird cage. It was made of painted bamboo strips andlooked neat and clean. On top of the cage stood a big gleaming metal hook. From the cage-doorhung a fiery red tassel, which added to the magnificence of the cage. As birdhouses go, this wascertainly a luxurious residence.
An old man was dozing under a nearby hibiscus tree. He seemed to be the owner of the cage.Hearing my approaching steps he opened his eyes. I began the dialogue.
"Hello. You bird has got out."
"Yeah. Let it go for a stroll."
"Aren't you afraid it might fly away?"
The old man cast a glance at me and gave an uncaring smile.
"Fly away? But why should it? It can't leave the food bowl."
Examining the bowl carefully, I found nothing special about it. It was no more than a small finechina bowl with a plum design on the side. The bird food in it was some yellow grains which gaveoff the refreshing smell of wild grass. I thought it must be a mixture of soaked millet and the yolk ofboiled eggs, perhaps with some condiments added to it. There was nothing special about it.
I told the old man what was on my mind, but he just shook his head and smiled at me withoutsaying a word. I knew better than to keep on inquiring, for each has his own tricks in raising birdsand such secrets must never be given away.
Just at that moment I saw the carefree bird walk into the cage at a leisurely pace. Seeing that hisbird was re-encaged, the old man slid down the cage-door with a click. Standing on the rim of thebowl complacently, the thrush had already begun to peck at its food. As I left the park, I turnedover in my mind a recurring question—what was the magic in the food that had made thisbeautiful bird sing so happily but forget about its wings?