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For more than twenty years, pigeons have always been my favorite creatures. But I never imagined that these gentle and beautiful little beings could also be hurt by "ugliness" just like humans! That dusk, the neighbor's little boy came bouncing into the balcony to help me feed the pigeons. When he tiptoed and sent the corn into the pigeon house, he was so surprised that he shouted, "Auntie, look at that white pigeon, with so many lumps on its eyelids, how ugly it is! Don't feed it!"
"Hear what you say, this white pigeon used to be very beautiful. It's all because of those damn tumors growing on its eyelids, which made it both ugly and blind," I replied.
As I was about to respond, I unintentionally noticed that the white pigeon had retreated to the corner of the pigeon house, drooping its head and trembling. Its demeanor was as wretched and pitiful as Quasimodo, the bell-ringer from 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame.' I couldn't help but feel an urge to hold the white pigeon in my arms and gently stroke it. At this moment, the neighbor called the little boy to come home for dinner. However, in the instant when I escorted the little boy home, the white pigeon disappeared!
On the third day, another pigeon I raised, named 'General,' a gray pigeon, returned after winning the 'Crown of a Thousand Pigeons' only to be severely injured by a group of bored air gunners who bet on it. Its wings were broken, the silver-shining fur on its head was all torn off, and it fell bloody into the grass. I had a hard time finding it. When I took the gray pigeon to the hospital, the doctor looked coldly while reading a novel and said, "I don't know if you're sick or something? You bring this wounded pigeon here to apply medicine. Hmm, while it's not dead yet, kill it and make it into a dish for wine. Such an ugly pigeon, even if cured, would be of no use anyway..."
This sarcastic remark truly angered me. I glared at the doctor and left angrily. I ran to a friend's place to get Ten-Thousand-Flower Oil, pain-stopping hemostatic ointment, and bandages, and finally managed to bandage the pigeon's wounds. However, less than half an hour after I left the pigeon house, the gray pigeon disappeared again! Two once-beautiful and skilled homing pigeons went missing within less than three days. Was this a coincidence? What mistake did I make? What mistake did the pigeons make? What mistake did the doctor and the little boy make? Strictly speaking, none of them were wrong. After careful thought, wasn't it just an unfortunate "ugly" label placed on their heads?
I suddenly realized that animals' self-esteem can be so sensitive! Time and again, I walked through the wilderness and forests searching and calling for them, but I failed to win back their wounded hearts. Back at home, looking at the two remaining pigeons in the pigeon house who had lost their mates, I felt even more sorrowful. They stood on the tops of their respective pigeon houses without eating or drinking, mourning and waiting towards the vast sky. Their desolate and tragic expressions made one want to shed tears.
Gazing at the cloud-filled sky, my thoughts began to spin like a chair freshly oiled. Layers of questions flashed before my eyes. Ah, could it be that human aesthetic nature and the spiritual essence of pigeons resonate with each other? Could it be that animals also fear being shackled with the label of "ugly" just like humans? Even in my dreams, I long for the pigeons to return home. In disappointment, I began to curse all the reasons that created "ugliness."
I even thought that any kindness and spirituality, once tainted with the color of "ugly," might brew various innocent tragedies...
...The setting sun, the official website, resembles a blood-red sleeping pill, slowly dissolving into the horizon. Another empty day has passed. Alas, my beloved pigeons, where are you resting tonight? Without sight and wings, apart from perishing in the wild countryside, what other outcome could there be for you? Following the trail of moonlight, I stepped into the threshold of night. A chill wind blew, making my whole body feel cool. Originally, standing in the swirling night mist, I have now become silent, like a weeping statue...