The old man and the seagull, the fifth grade Chinese in primary school, Volume II

It was an ordinary winter day. Meet friends and come to Cuihu. Seagulls are flying noisily. It is easy to recognize the old man among the people feeding seagulls. He was hunched, wearing a faded and outdated cloth, carrying a faded blue cloth bag, and even the big plastic bag for bird food faded. My friend told me that the old man walks more than 20 miles from the suburbs to Cuihu every day just to send food to seagulls and accompany them. Where there are few people, it is the territory where he feeds seagulls. The old man carefully put the biscuits on the fence by the lake, stepped back, picked up his mouth and called to the flock. Immediately, a flock of seagulls answered and swept it clean in a few times. The old man walked along the railing and put it down. Seagulls rise and fall according to his rhythm, forming a roaring white and flying into a colorful music score. In the sound of seagulls, the old man sang something cadently. Listen carefully, it turns out that it is the place where intimacy changes tone-"one foot", "grey head", "red mouth", "old sand" and "princess" ... "Have you named the seagull?" I can't help asking The old man looked back at me and still leaned over the seagulls: "Of course, each one has a name." "Do you recognize them?" The same white wings are flashing rapidly in the sun, and I doubt whether the old man can see clearly. "You see, you see! It's Lao Sha with a ring on his foot! " The old man proudly pointed it out to me, and suddenly he shouted at the water, "A foot! Lao Sha! Get up! " Two seagulls jumped on the water and flew to the old man. One seagull's foot shone with metallic luster, and the other flew over and pecked at the old man's hand. It has only one foot, and it has to flap its wings to keep its balance when it stops. It seems to be a leg, and the old man talks to it kindly while feeding it. Speaking of seagulls, the old man's eyes came to life at once. "Seagulls are the most affectionate and cautious. The year before last, there was a seagull. The day before flying out of Kunming, it stopped on my hat five times again and again. I thought it was a joke with me, but later I realized it was to say goodbye to me. Didn't come last year, and didn't come this year ... Seagulls are lucky birds, happy birds! The ancients said,' Bai Ou flies with poetry'. More than ten years ago, when the seagulls came, I knew our good luck was coming. Look at their little appearance! Gee ... "Seagulls heard the old man's cry and immediately flew over and surrounded him, attracting passers-by to stop and watch. When the sun sets, the old man's plastic bag is empty. "It's getting late, they will go back soon. I heard that they are resting in Dianchi Lake, but unfortunately I can't go. " The old man looked at the birds hovering in the sky, his eyes full of hope. My friend told me that for more than ten years, in winter, the old people will come every day, just like their relatives with seagulls. Unexpectedly, more than ten days later, someone suddenly told us that the old man had passed away. Hearing this news, we seem to see the old man and seagulls hugging each other at Cuihu Lake ... We enlarged the photo of the old man feeding seagulls for the last time and took it to Cuihu Lake. Unexpected things happened-a flock of seagulls suddenly flew in, circling around the portrait of the old man, repeatedly chirping, chirping and posturing were quite different from usual, as if something important had happened. We were so surprised that we quickly left the old man's photo to make room for the seagulls. Seagulls flapped their wings quickly and flew into the air in turn in front of the portrait of the old man, like relatives who came to mourn. The old man in the photo silently looked at the seagulls hovering around him and looked at the "children" who accompanied him for many winters ... After a while, the seagulls landed one after another and stood in two rows before and after the portrait of the old man. They stood quietly, like white-winged angels who kept vigil for the elderly. When we had to put away the portrait, seagulls rushed at it like bombs. They sang loudly, flapped their wings and got so close that we finally got out of this dancing white whirlpool. ..... At the funeral of the old man, we carried the portrait and walked slowly to the mourning hall. The old man was carrying a blue cloth bag and pursed his mouth as if he were still calling for seagulls. In his mind, it must be a flying seagull. Give me a satisfactory answer, I have been calling for a long time.