蓋著布的鳥籠

I cannot honestly say that there was ever a time that I went hungry when I lived in that orphanage in Jacksonville1， Florida. I mean， I wish there had been more to eat at times， and there were times when my stomach sure growled a lot at nighttime.

One day our second grade class at Spring Park School was released early because of a fire drill2. As I walked back to the orphanage， about a block away from the school， I saw a woman standing on her front lawn eating a sandwich. I stopped and stood there looking at her.

“Can I help you？” she asked me.

“Just looking at that sandwich，” I replied.

“Would you like a sandwich？” she asked me. “Yes， Ma’am. I guess，” I said.

She walked back into her house and within a minute had come back out holding a sandwich in her hand.

“Here，” she said， handing me the sandwich.

I raised the sandwich to my mouth and I took a bite.

I could feel my eyes roll back into my head as I tasted the wonderful treat.

“This is very good. What is it？” I asked her.

“It is a meat sandwich，” she told me.

“We don’t get much meat at the Children’s Home Orphanage，” I told her.

“If you ever get hungry for meat you can come by here，” she told me， as she walked back into her house and closed the door.

I slowly walked back to the orphanage eating the sandwich and making sure that my mouth was clean so that no one would know that I had eaten a meat thing.

The next day after school I once again walked by her house to see if she was there. Sure enough she saw me and invited me in to eat another meat sandwich.

As I sat at her dining room table I noticed that she had a large black bird locked in a cage at the far end of the room.

“Is that a big， black eagle bird？” I asked her.

“No. That is a talking crow，” she told me.

“Birds can’t talk，” I told her， wrinkling up my forehead in amazement.

“Oh yes they can，” she advised me.

“How can birds talk like human beings？” I asked her.

“You just have to say the exact same things to them over， and over， and over every day and that is how they learn to talk，” she said.

Everyday for almost six months I would come by her house to eat a meat sandwich before returning to the orphanage. When I would knock on her door she would always say， “Just a moment. I am covering the bird cage.”

All the times that I went there I never did hear that bird ever speak a single word. When I asked her why the bird would never talk she told me that birds would not speak when their cage was covered with a cloth.

One day I came by her house and I knocked on her door， but no one answered. Slowly I opened the door and I called out to her. Again no one answered. I slowly walked into the kitchen and I saw a meat sandwich sitting on the table. Beside the sandwich was a note telling me that she could not be there and that I was to eat the sandwich and then lock her door when I left.

After I finished my sandwich I put my plate in the sink and started toward the front door. As I turned back around to see if I had cut off the kitchen light I saw the covered bird cage in the living room.

Slowly， I walked over to the cage and I peeked underneath the cloth. Suddenly， the cloth fell from the cage and onto the floor. The large black bird started jumping up and down， its wings throwing bird seed in every direction. My little heart was beating ninety miles an hour， inside my chest. All of a sudden the bird just stopped dead in its tracks and screamed， at the top of its voice， “There’s that darn kid again. There’s that darn kid again.”

I grabbed the cloth and threw it back over the bird cage as fast as I could and then I ran out the front door. When I got outside I looked all around real， real good. But I didn’t see no darn kid.

老實說，我在佛羅里達州杰克遜維爾市那家孤兒院期間，真沒挨過餓。其實，有些時候，我倒也想過，要是有更多東西吃就好了，也有那么一些夜晚，我的肚子的確會咕咕叫得厲害。

有一天，因為要防火演習，我們這些源泉公園學校二年級的學生很早就放學了。在走回孤兒院的路上，大概離學校一個街區那么遠的地方，我看見一位太太正站在她家前面的那塊草地上吃三明治，我停下腳步，站在那里看著她。

“我能幫上什么忙嗎？”她問我。

“我只是在看那塊三明治，”我回答道。

“你要來一塊嗎？”她問我。

“好啊，太太。我很樂意。”我說道。

她走進屋里，一眨眼功夫又走出來了，手里拿著塊三明治。

“拿著，”她邊說邊遞給我那塊三明治。

我把它舉到嘴邊，咬了一口。

嘗著她請我吃的那美味的三明治，我感覺自己幸福得直翻白眼。

“這好好吃哦。里面有什么？”我問她。

“這是肉餡三明治，”她告訴我。

“我們兒童福利院里很少有肉吃，”我告訴她。

“你想吃肉的時候，可以到這里來，”她邊對我說，邊走回家，關上門。

我邊吃著三明治，邊慢慢走回孤兒院，同時得確保把嘴巴擦得干干凈凈，這樣就沒人知道我吃了一些有肉的東西。

第二天放學后，我又走到她房子那頭，想看看她在不在。當然，她看見我了，還請我進屋再吃一塊三明治。

當我坐在她家餐桌前，我注意到屋子另一頭有個籠子，里面關著只黑色的大鳥。

“那是只大黑鷹嗎？”我問她。

“不是。那是一只會說話的烏鴉，”她告訴我。

“鳥類不會說話啊。”我邊對她說，邊驚訝地皺起了前額。

“噢，不，它們會說話。”她告訴我。

“鳥怎么會像人一樣說話呢？”我問她。

“你只要對它們說同一句話。每天不斷地重復，那么它們就會跟著說了。”她說道。

幾乎有半年的時間，每一天，在回孤兒院之前，我都會到她家吃一塊肉餡三明治。每次我敲她家的門，她總會說：“等一會兒，我正在蓋鳥籠。”

我在她家的那些時候，我從未真的聽過那只鳥說任何一個字。我問她為什么那只鳥從不說話，她告訴我，如果鳥籠給布蓋住，它們就不說話了。

有一天，我去到她家，敲她的門，但沒人答應。我慢慢推開門，叫了她幾聲，還是沒人答應。我慢慢走進廚房，看見桌上有一塊肉餡三明治。旁邊放著一張紙條，告訴我她那天不在家，讓我吃了那塊三明治，走時關好她家的門。

我吃完三明治后把碟子放到水池里，開始走向前門。當我轉過頭去確認是否關上了廚房燈時，我看見了客廳里的那個蓋著布的鳥籠。

我慢慢走向那個鳥籠，朝布下面瞥了一眼。忽然，那塊布從鳥籠上掉到了地上。那只大黑鳥開始跳上跳下的，它的翅膀扇得鳥食到處都是。我胸口那小心臟以每小時90英里的速度跳動著。忽然，那只鳥停下來一動不動，然后高聲尖叫道：“又是那個討人厭的小孩。又是那個討人厭的小孩。”

我抓起那塊布，用最快的速度把它扔向那個鳥籠，然后跑出前門。跑到外面后，我朝四周很仔細很仔細地看了一通，但始終沒看見有什么討人厭的小孩。

注釋

1） Jacksonville 杰克遜維爾，美國佛羅里達州東北部港市

2） fire drill 防火演習