Bird

The restaurant next to our hotel offered “Engles menu” and outdoor seating. What a bargain. We sat down at a wobbly, white plastic table and dad pushed the menu towards me. I quickly glanced at the four pages of entrees, immediately disqualifying any with beef (mom doesn’t eat it anymore), organs, or unidentifiable animal parts. I offered some options: Sweet and Sour Pork, Bird Braised in Paper, Kung Pao Chicken,… Both mom and dad liked the sound of the first two. I called the waitress over. I pointed to our choices as I said them out loud, also ordering water for mom and dad, a TsingTao beer for me. Our food arrived surprisingly quickly. We began to pick at the dishes placed in front of us, both very tasty. We watched as tour groups walked past us, eyeing the dishes on our table. “This chicken is really good,” Dad said. Mom nodded in agreement.

Earlier, while studying the menu, I had noticed young men on bicycles pulling to a stop just to the right of our table, maybe 10 feet away. On the back of their bicycles were wire cages, filled with birds, perhaps pigeons. Or other nondescript grey birds. The young men usually chatted with an older gentleman for a few minutes, who then took the cages, disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with empty cages. This strange phenomenon continued as we ate our dinner. I was puzzled. I looked behind me. Where was the old man taking the cages? What were so many birds needed for? Birds. Birds. I looked down at the dish in front of us. We had all assumed it was chicken. I saw the menu listing in my mind’s eye. “Bird Braised in Paper.” I looked behind me. It seemed the old man was entering the same building that housed our restaurant, possibly a service entrance.

The connection was clear. It was just a little too fresh for me. I watched mom and dad enjoying the Braised Bird, decided not to say anything, and popped another piece of pork (I think) into my mouth.