Willows along the river are tall and short, thick and thin, sparse and dense. We like to find two thin, adjacent willows, one in each hand, two pedals, head down, and suddenly turn up, which is a somersault. It's very interesting. Playing along the river sometimes leads to unexpected surprises. On the other side of the river, there is a crooked willow in the fish pond next to the production team, which grows on the high mound in the water. The mound is very special like a pocket island. On a Sunday morning, I suddenly saw a duck nesting next to that crooked willow tree, and I thought it was going to lay eggs. I was very happy. Willow branches are woven into a willow curtain, which is a natural barrier. It blocks people's sight. If you don't look in that direction, it's hard to find a duck nesting there. After I saw it, I was as happy as Columbus discovered the new world, but I was afraid that others would know and didn't dare to tell. I just glanced in that direction from time to time through the thick cracks in the willow branches. After a while, the duck left the nest, and I was so excited that my heart was pounding like a rabbit. Walking through the earth embankment separated by two production teams and bypassing a small bend, we came to the crooked willow tree. On the other side of the river is the land of the production team. In order to prevent chickens and ducks from eating crops, a row of wooden fences are inserted on the other side, and occasionally there are several willows like the riverside behind the house. When I came here, I squatted down first, slowly leaned down, and then climbed up the mound. In this way, I came to the crooked willow. Wow, there is a big duck egg lying in the nest, as if it were a golden egg, and my eyes are like gold plating, radiating golden light.
Sunday passed and Monday came. In the morning, like others, I went out with my schoolbag on my back, but instead of going to school, I sneaked into someone else's woodpile and watched the ducks lay eggs. Ducks didn't let me down. Every time they left empty-handed, they returned with eggs. Afraid of being scolded by adults, the duck eggs were not taken home, but buried in the wheat straw pile of uncle's house. Uncle piled wheat straw at the east end of the house, in other words, at the west end of my house. Every time I come back from school, I have to take a look at the wheat pile to see if anyone has touched my duck eggs. So repeatedly, I picked up duck eggs for a week. Later, how suddenly stopped, I have forgotten, maybe the duck was scared away, maybe playing truant was discovered by adults; I don't remember whether the duck eggs were eaten or not, but the excitement of picking up the duck eggs is always imprinted in the depths of my brain.
In summer, the riverside is where we often go. In summer, we like to sleep on a cool bed outside, and get up in the morning with a snowball ride. When we got up, it was still dawn, so we went barefoot, took a reed stick and looked for cicadas along the riverside behind the house. Behind someone's house, it's either a woodpile, a pigsty or a toilet. The road surface is high and low, and it's not long to walk around a bend. Although we are barefoot, we never worry that our feet will be poked by broken glass or rusty nails. Because at that time, people realized that adults always had to find a remote corner, dig a deep pit and bury things like broken bowls, broken lampshades and broken needles.
At that time, some people specialized in collecting cicadas, which were priced at two. I searched for cicada slough in summer and found a bulging bag, but the cicada slough was too light to reach the scale and didn't sell much money, which was extremely disproportionate to the labor we paid. So, we tried our best to figure out how to make cicada slough heavier. There's a solution. Isn't there a crack in the cicada's back? Just fill it with rice soup from the crack, pour it out, put it in the sun, and put it away after a little sun exposure. In this way, our cicada slough becomes heavier.
At noon, when cicadas are singing happily, we often go to the riverside to catch cicadas as soon as we have lunch. Cicada likes to rest at the head of a tree, which can't be reached by bare hands. It is necessary to make a simple cicada catching tool in advance. There are two ways to catch cicadas, one is to stick them with cobwebs, and the other is to cover them with bags. If you stick it with cobwebs, you have to find a long reed pole first. This can't beat us. At that time, many people had rain-proof reed mats on the outer walls, from which we smoked with adults on our backs. Pull off the reed stem, first split its top in half, and spread it with a short stick to form a triangular frame; Then take it and go to the corner under the eaves to make a spider web. However, the viscosity of cobwebs is limited, and the enemy can't beat the cicada's freedom. Most of them are in vain. The most practical thing is to use a bag cover. Just find a thin bamboo stick and tie a small plastic bag at the top. To make a small plastic bag, look for a thick piece of plastic paper outside. At that time, people almost covered windows with plastic paper, and when they were damaged, they tore them off and threw them away. Don't go to the street, take a jump on the street. We picked it up as a treasure, sewed it into a small bag with a needle, surrounded the mouth of the bag with a thin wire, and left a long handle to tie it to the bamboo stick. Use a bag to cover cicadas, as long as you have enough patience, one set is accurate. All we have to do is call cicadas and let go of cicadas that don't call.
At noon, the sun is fierce, but we are immersed in the joy of catching cicadas and are completely unaware of it. A few days later, the diabolical power came out, and boils were everywhere on my forehead, nose bridge, armpit and vest ... I didn't dare to turn over when I slept at night, and I felt pain when I turned over. The next day, we picked a leaf from the sub-tree, rubbed it twice, flattened it, spit, stuck it on the boil, and then went to catch cicadas again. My parents shook their heads helplessly behind us and scolded, "I just don't have a long memory."
The season of catching cicadas has passed, so we went to have other fun. On the production team, water chestnut was put in the fish pond, and there were scattered cockscomb fruits around it, which was what we wanted most. The leaves of Jitouguo are like lotus leaves, but the difference is that it is flat on the water with thorns on it, so it can't be picked by hand. The stems under the leaves are like lotus root vegetables, and there are thorns on them. If you tear off the skin outside, you can also cook, but it is not as crisp as lotus root vegetables. Cooking is a mother's business, and what we care about is the chicken head fruit. Mature cockscomb fruit is as big as a budding lotus flower, covered with thorns, like a chestnut pu that is about to crack. It's common to get stabbed in the hand when you make a chicken head. When you get it, put it on the washing slate and break it open with a stick or stone. After breaking open, there are full grains of chicken's head rice, which are like pomegranate seeds, but bigger and rounder; Comparing it with grapes is too exaggerated. We carefully take out the chicken's head rice one by one and put it in our pockets as food. Take out one, put it in your mouth and take a bite. It is astringent and has a little sweetness. After eating, the mouth is purple, the hands are purple, and the pockets are purple, just like just eating mulberries.
Eating in the bowl, looking at the pot. Our greatest hope is to eat water chestnut, but it grows in the middle of the water and can't be reached. Eat chicken head rice once and think of water chestnut once. Sincerity is the spirit, and one day the dream really came true. When I was seven or eight years old, my aunt's cousin came. He was two years older than me. My cousin was born and raised in the city, and she was strange, curious and excited about everything in the country. Near the Mid-Autumn Festival, the water chestnut is ripe, and my cousin urged me to pick it. There happened to be a waist basin by the river, and my cousin took me there while adults were working in the fields. The waist basin was tied to a willow tree on the shore. My cousin untied the rope and let me squat inside. He picked up a rowing boat and paddled. Although the waist basin is spinning in the water, although it is scary, it can't compete with the temptation of water chestnut. "Near, near, enough." Looking at the waist basin coming to the edge, I couldn't help but let out a cry of surprise. Open the water chestnut dish, and the red water chestnut is on the back, which is particularly attractive. We pick it carefully. The picked water chestnut was afraid to take home, so he hid in the woodpile and ate it secretly. Water chestnut tastes very good. It is not as astringent as chicken's head rice, but crisp and sweet. We enjoyed it very much.
Murder will out. After all, my father knew about picking water chestnuts. My father gave me a good scolding, but he didn't hit me because my aunt was at home. My father was fierce at me because he was worried that we would upset our waist and basin and lose our lives. This is the first time and the last time I sit in a waist basin and pick water chestnuts.
Time flies, and by the end of the year, the upper and lower production teams are busy taking fish again. There is only one water pump, first from the production team, and then from our production team. The water in the fish pond of the Shanghai production team is pumped to our production team, and the water in the fish pond of our production team is pumped to the lotus root swing; The water in the lotus root swings to the back cover, and the water in the back cover flows to the long cover. The pump is pumping day and night. We not only like to listen to the sudden motor sound on the engine, but also like to watch adults go fishing in the river. The fish are concentrated in the muddy puddle in the middle, listening to the captain's division of labor. Some fish are fished with scoops, some fish are caught with bare hands, and some fish are sent to the shore ... Our children have nothing to do at home, and they run around behind the adults, running from one end of the river to the other. Adults are covered in mud, so are we. We played from early morning until dark, and didn't stop until we took the fish home.