8 The Bird Catcher

by Kenji Miyazawa

「May I sit here?」

A bustling voice echoed kindly. Turning around, Giovanni saw a red-bearded man in a slightly tattered brown overcoat. He carried two bundles wrapped in white cloth, slung over his shoulders.

「Yes, please do,」 Giovanni replied, shrugging slightly. The red-bearded man smiled into his beard and slowly placed his bundles on the luggage rack. Giovanni silently stared at the clock in front of him, feeling an indescribable loneliness and sadness. Just then, a sound like a glass flute rang out far ahead. The train had quietly started moving. Campanella looked around at the ceiling of the compartment. A black beetle had landed on one of the lights, its large shadow cast on the ceiling. The red-bearded man watched Giovanni and Campanella with a nostalgic smile. The train gradually picked up speed, and outside the window, pampas grass and a river alternately gleamed.

The red-bearded man, a little hesitantly, asked the two of them,

「Where are you two headed?」

「We're going anywhere,」 Giovanni replied, a little awkwardly.

「That's good. This train, in fact, goes anywhere.」

「Where are you going?」 Campanella suddenly asked. Giovanni involuntarily laughed. Then, the person in the opposite seat, wearing a pointed hat and with a large key hanging from his waist, also glanced over and smiled. Campanella, too, couldn't help but blush and start laughing. However, the man wasn't particularly angry; he twitched his cheek and replied,

「I'm getting off right there. I'm in the business of catching birds.」

「What kind of birds?」

「Cranes and wild geese. Also herons and swans.」

「Are there many cranes?」

「Yes, there are. They've been calling for a while now. Didn't you hear them?」

「No.」

"You can still hear it, can't you? Come on, listen closely."

The two looked up and listened intently. From between the sound of the rattling train and the wind in the pampas grass, they could hear a sound like water gurgling up, "koron koron."

"How do you catch cranes?"

"Cranes, or herons?"

"Herons," Giovanni replied, thinking it didn't really matter which.

"That's easy. Herons are all formed from the condensed sand of the Milky Way, and they always return to the river, so you wait by the riverbank, and when a heron descends with its legs like this, just as it's about to touch the ground, you firmly press it down. Then the heron will die peacefully. The rest is obvious. You just press it into a leaf specimen."

"Are you pressing the egrets? Are they specimens?"

"They're not specimens. Everyone eats them."

"That's strange," Campanella tilted his head.

"There's nothing strange about it," the man stood up, took a package down from the luggage rack, and quickly unwrapped it.

"Now, look. I just caught them."

"They really are herons!" the two exclaimed involuntarily. About ten pure white heron bodies, shining like the Northern Cross, were slightly flattened, with their black legs tucked in, arranged like a relief carving.

"Their eyes are closed," Campanella gently touched the heron's crescent-shaped white eyes with his finger. The spear-like white feathers on its head were also perfectly intact.

"See, isn't that right?" The bird catcher folded the cloth and wrapped it up again, tying it with a string. Giovanni asked, wondering who on earth would eat herons here.

"Are herons delicious?"

"Yes, we get orders every day. But the geese sell more. The geese have much better patterns, and most importantly, they don't take much effort. Look." The bird catcher untied another package. Then, geese shining like some kind of light, in yellow, pale blue, and mottled patterns, were lined up with their beaks aligned, slightly flattened, just like the egrets from earlier.

"These can be eaten right away. How about it, would you like to try some?" The bird catcher lightly pulled the leg of a yellow goose. It detached cleanly, as if made of chocolate.

"How about it? Try a little," the bird catcher said, tearing it in half and handing it over. Giovanni took a bite and thought,

(What, this is candy after all. It's even tastier than chocolate, but there's no way geese like this are flying around. This man is a candy seller from some field. But, I feel a little sorry for him, eating his candy while looking down on him.) He continued to munch on it anyway.

"Have some more," the bird catcher offered another package. Giovanni wanted to eat more, but

"Yes, thank you," he said, declining. Then the bird catcher handed it to the person with the key in the seat across from them.

"Oh, I'm sorry to take something meant for sale," the person said, taking off their hat.

"No, not at all. How's the migratory bird business this year?"

"No, they're wonderful things. The day before yesterday, around the second period, calls came in from all over, complaining about the lighthouse light having gaps in its illumination outside of the regular pattern. But really, it's not something we do; it's because flocks of migratory birds, solid black, pass in front of Akashi, so it can't be helped. I told them, 'You idiots, there's no point bringing such complaints to me. Take them to the general with the rustling cape and impossibly thin legs and mouth!' Ha ha."

Because the pampas grass was gone, light suddenly streamed in from the field beyond.

"Why does it take so much effort for the herons?" Campanella finally asked what had been bothering him.

"Well, you see, eating herons requires special preparation," the bird catcher began to explain, turning back to them. "You have to hang them in the starlight of the Milky Way for ten days, or bury them in the sand for three or four days. That way, the mercury evaporates, and they become edible."

"That's not a bird. It's just like a sweet," Campanella said, taking a chance. The bird catcher looked surprised by something, and

"Oh, right, I have to get off here," he said, standing up and disappearing somewhere with his luggage.

"Where did he go?" The two exchanged glances. The lighthouse keeper grinned, leaning forward slightly to peer out the window. When the two looked in that direction, they saw the bird catcher from earlier standing on a patch of beautiful yellow and blue glowing common chickweed, with a serious expression, spreading his arms and looking up at the sky.

“He’s over there. It’s strange, isn’t it? He’s probably trying to catch birds again. I hope the birds come down quickly before the train speeds away.” The moment he said that, the egrets we had seen earlier descended from the sky, screaming and squawking, as if it were snowing. Then, the bird catcher, as if satisfied with the expected outcome, stood with his legs wide apart and began to grab the egrets’ black legs one after another, putting them into a cloth bag. Inside the bag, the egrets glowed and faded blue like fireflies, but soon everything became dimly white, and they closed their eyes. However, more egrets landed safely on the sand of the Milky Way than were caught. As I watched them, as soon as their feet touched the sand, they shrank as if melting snow, becoming flat, and for a while, they left the shape of a bird on the sand, but after several cycles of brightening and darkening, they became the same color as their surroundings.

After putting about twenty birds into the bag, the bird catcher suddenly raised both hands, taking a posture as if a soldier were dying from being hit by a bullet. The next moment, the bird catcher was gone, and instead, a familiar voice said, “Ah, that’s refreshing. It’s good to earn just enough to fit your body,” from next to Giovanni. Looking over, the bird catcher was already neatly arranging the caught egrets, restacking them one by one.

“How did you come here all at once from over there?” Giovanni asked with a strange feeling, as if it were ordinary yet not ordinary.

“Why? I came because I wanted to. Where did you two come from?” the bird catcher replied lightly.

Giovanni tried to answer immediately, but he couldn’t remember at all where he had actually come from. Campanella also blushed, trying to recall something.

"You've come a long way," the bird catcher said, nodding as if he understood.