
7 minute read
FISHING FOR THE PAST
from Grotonian Draft
by Amy Ma
Michael Lu
It was the beginning of May in Gui Lin. The wind was no longer biting and harsh, and instead blew kindly. The willows on the edge of the lake drooped carelessly into the water, allowing its gentle flow to caress their newly-budded fronds. On their branches, sparrows and magpies tittered and bickered amongst themselves.
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It was still dark, but Guo was already on the lake, whistling. He wore a loose cotton vest and a bamboo hat large enough to cover his face from a fiery noon sun. On each of his shoulders perched a small cormorant. Together, they floated on a bamboo raft in the clear cool water.
Guo loved his birds more than anything he owned, more than anyone he knew. They were loyal and well-trained; indeed, Guo had picked them out of the brood from which they were hatched and had trained them himself for years. The cormorants were short and stocky, which was ideal for chasing fish underwater, and were covered with dark scruffy feathers that quivered in the wind. Their long, bobbing necks swiveled inquisitively as they scanned the water for fish, but they did not move from their station on Guo’s shoulders- nor would they, without a signal from their master. Perhaps inexplicably, the birds’ legs were not tethered to the raft with a rope; the cormorants were free to go wherever they pleased. They stayed with the master because they wished to do so, and because he was all they knew.
The fisherman and his two cormorants sat patiently as they drifted towards the center of the lake. On the prow of his raft, Guo had perched a bronze lantern which lit the way. The lantern was filled with dark, bubbling oil, and it shone sputteringly, just bright enough to illuminate the water a few feet ahead of them. Starkly lit by the flame, a moth rattled against the metal base of the lantern, hurling itself repeatedly into the hot oil even as the fire singed its mottled wings.
sputteringly, just bright enough to illuminate the water a few feet ahead of them. Starkly lit by the flame, a moth rattled against the metal base of the lantern, hurling itself repeatedly into the hot oil even as the fire singed its mottled wings.
Guo drank from a gourd and began to croon an old folk song quietly to his beloved birds. He had learned it from his father, who had first taught Guo the craft of cormorant fishing. Briefly, the aged fisherman cast his mind back to his childhood, which always remembered fondly- even the occasional scoldings and beatings. Now, Guo’s only regret was not passing this art down to his own son, Guo Wei, who had moved to the city for a higher education. They had parted on bad terms, and Guo hadn’t seen his son for over two years.
Alone, Guo drifted with his birds. He was still singing.
By this time the sun had risen just far enough to illuminate the typical morning haze that swaddled the lake; a faint halo glowed behind the vista of mountains that stood around it. Guo suddenly gave a sharp click with his tongue. Cackling in anticipation, the cormorants immediately dove, like arrows, into the water.
The fisherman watched the agile shadows of his birds as they raced in the clear water, eagerly chasing the schools of carp swirling about the raft. Although the surface of the lake remained calm and undisturbed, a furious game of cat-and-mouse was being played out underneath it. Guo could only make out the faintest of figures as his cormorants darted in and out of view. Occasionally, a fish jumped up from the water, sometimes right over the raft, in a futile attempt to escape its pursuer. Then an uneasy calm settled upon the surface of the lake.
And suddenly, the cormorants emerged triumphantly from the water, their beaks clamped around thrashing fish. Guo deftly took hold of their necks with his fists and shook the fish they had caught into a basket woven with thatch. The cormorants did not resist, and after their beaks were emptied, they stood on the raft, preening themselves meekly.
In accordance with the ancient traditions of cormorant fishing, Guo had tied the necks of his cormorants with a piece of hemp string to keep them from swallowing the fish they caught. He had, of course, also clipped the cormorants’ wings when they were young, so that they had never learned to fly. Better safe than dead, Guo would always say to his son when asked why he did this. This way, the birds never get eaten by big bad eagles.
Hours passed, and Guo and his birds caught two baskets worth of fish. After every seven forays into the water, Guo rewarded his cormorants with the smallest fish of the catch: the only rewards small enough to fit through the restricted gullets of his birds. After they gobbled their payments greedily, the cormorants squawked pleasantly and rubbed their dripping heads against the shins of their master.
The sun was high in the sky when Guo whistled to his birds, and they clambered clumsily back to their berths on his shoulders. He tended to avoid the noisy afternoons because the fishing was slower; by this time, the lake was teeming with life: swallows and sparrows swooped over treetops, aged turtles sunbathed lazily on floating logs, children ran, squealing, on the lakeside.
But Guo left the lake mostly because he couldn’t bear the sight of other cormorant fishermen. He watched with a sad smile as they loaded their cushioned motorboats with tourists and photographers, welcoming their passengers with toothy smiles. This is not real cormorant fishing, he thought to himself, looking on with a mixture of pity and disgust. These impostors did not even train their own birds- no, they waited for fishermen like him to train fledgling cormorants, and then bought them for exorbitant prices. But what a great shame it was, that they could never experience the thrills of cormorant fishing, and the precious bond between a man and his cormorants that words could never express.
Still a distance from the shore, Guo made out two figures standing on the beach where he stored his raft. It was rare for him to have visitors- mostly photographers and travel bloggers hoping for a glimpse into his quiet life. As he pulled his raft onshore, with his cormorants by his side, the two at the beach hurried to meet him.
As soon as Guo saw him, he broke into a smile.
‘Wei Wei! It’s been so long!’
‘Hi dad, it’s good to see you.’ Guo Wei spoke softly. He was wearing a suit. A smartly dressed girl trailed behind him, holding a large binder with papers stacked inside. Guo Wei’s girlfriend? No, there was still some distance between them. His business partner then, or an assistant. So Guo Wei has an assistant! He’s doing well, then. And there’s his car in the back there… A Buick! Not bad!
‘Why don’t you both come inside for some tea? My house is just around the corner.’
‘Actually dad, I came here on business. Can we talk here?’ Guo Wei exclaimed breathlessly.
‘Alright, son, what is it?’ The three of them stood still, facing each other on the beach. Only the waves lapped at the shore, and Guo’s cormorants pecked absent-mindedly at the sand.
‘When I went to college,’ Guo Wei began fervently, anxious to get the words out of his mouth, ‘I pursued animal law as my major. I learnt about all the horrific ways people treat animals like slaves: elephants, mules, even cats and dogs. And then I thought back to my childhood, and what you showed me, how you strangle your cormorants, and cut their wings in half!
I’ve seen it, dad, don’t deny it now. How could you do it? It’s evil! And so cruel!’ The words spewed out of Guo Wei’s mouth as if they were bitter bile that he needed to expel desperately. He did not give Guo a chance to answer. ‘I work for an animal rights company now, dad. It pays well, and I’m happy in the city. We’re willing to give you a chance to make amends for what you’ve done; we’ll buy the cormorants off of you, give them a home in our wildlife sanctuary. And we’ll offer you a fair price. You won’t have to work again, dad.’
Guo’s head swirled. He could hardly respond. ‘Wei Wei, please.’ He finally stammered. ‘I’m not hurting my birds, they are free! They can go wherever they want! If they felt mistreated, they would simply leave! Can’t you see this? Look, I’ll show you.’ Guo clicked his tongue, and the cormorants shuffled up to him docilely. He stroked their feathered necks gently, gratefully.
Guo Wei shook his head. ‘I can’t accept that, dad. It’s not enough. Many of these abused animals are subjected to so much degradation that they don’t even realize it. Let Ling Ling give you the facts- but I’m not sure if you even want them. The data we’ve gathered just in China… it’s so disturbing, dad. If only you saw what I’ve seen, then you’d understand.’
Oh, how the young burned with righteous indignation.
‘Well, look at those fishermen still on the lake, why don’t you go after all of them as well? Aren’t they also abusing their cormorants?’
‘No, because they don’t cripple them at birth, dad! Their cormorants don’t have clipped wings and strangled necks. Yes, the fishermen tie their legs to the boat, but at least they are free!’
Guo was at a loss. Did these so-called fishermen really not clip their birds’ wings? How brutish, and how clumsy of them it was to tie their cormorants to a stake! Like slaves! And to call that freedom? To chain their birds down, to deny them the ability to go where they pleased?
Guo shook his head sadly. ‘I won’t let you take my cormorants. They’re precious to me. After all, why haven’t they run away, like you have, to the city?’ Guo chuckled at his own joke.
‘The reason why they don’t run away is because they don’t know that’s a possibility! They don’t even know that they can fly! You’re a monster, dad! You’ve taken away everything they have!’
A stunned silence. Then Guo Wei pushed past his father and took hold of the cormorants. ‘Come on’ he whispered urgently as he herded them to his car, ‘We’re taking you two somewhere safe now.’ His assistant followed him closely, without a word.
At the car, Guo Wei turned around and faced the fisherman. ‘Dad, don’t worry. They’re safe with me. I’ll send you a check; you can even move into the city if you want.’
Guo didn’t answer. His son nodded gravely, and entered the car.
Guo stared as the shiny silver Buick drove away. He was paralyzed. In the tinted rearview mirror of the car, he caught faint glimpses of his cormorants buckled up safely in the back seat. They flapped their misshapen, crippled half-wings desperately, squawking and crowing.
They are trying to fly back to me, but they cannot. Guo thought to himself. Two hot salty tears trickled down his wrinkled leather face. They need me. And I them.
