Lan woke up at midnight. The wind of the first lunar month warmed up the hilly area. In his dream, the shotgun sounded like a glass tumbler breaking on the stone floor. And the teals (wild ducks) suddenly zoomed up and fell down, their bodies covered with blood.
It was the same every time he saw the teals in his dream. He also heard the sounds of the shotgun. But it had been many years since the birds had come to Dam Lai.
Ten years before when Lan arrived at the farm at the foot of this hilly area, he would be woken up every day by the flapping of wings of hundreds of teals flying to Dam Lai for food. For the first few days, he’d thought it was raining. Then he would wander along the lake whenever he had time, looking at the teals foraging food in the green sedge. It was during his walks that he met Hanh. The meeting made the whole area romantic for him.
"Have you left your work to take a walk, uncle worker?" She used to ask him when they first met. Lan did not how to answer. He just smiled. On fine days, Lan used to ride his bicycle to the hamlet at the foot of the hill to her house. On moonlit nights, they would go for walks along the marsh, and talk about the birds.
"Where do the teals come from, brother?"
"From beyond the mountains."
"Why don’t they seek their food over there?"
"There is no large marsh like this one out there."
"Have you been there?"
"No, not yet."
"But how do you know?"
"The teals told me."
"Why do they go and seek food so early in the morning ?"
"It is their fate."
"You say that as if you were a teal".
"If only we were teals!"
"What for, brother?"
"I don’t know."
Then, one morning, he heard the sounds of continuous firing. From the sedge along the marsh, the teals flew up in the air. More shots sounded. Several of the birds fell. "Someone is shooting at the teals" - the thought entered his mind belatedly. He rushed towards the marsh. There were three strange young men picking up the wounded birds. They put them into an old rucksack and sat down to smoke. Lan came up to them.
"Why did you shoot the birds?" They were taken aback for a moment. Then they burst into laughter.
"These are teals, not ducks in your house, sir!"
"You have no right to kill them."
"Who can ban us from killing birds in nature. You’re too humanitarian. Long live humanism!" They laughed again. Lan was livid, but did not know what to do. He had to return to the farm.
In the afternoon, he rode his bicycle to the hamlet where Hanh was living. He wanted to tell her about what had happened to the teals. The three men were dressing the birds in the corner of the yard near the kitchen.
He turned round, and saw Hanh.
"Who are they?"
"They’ve come from Hanoi to hunt teals. They want to use my kitchen to cook rice."
Hanh actually looked pleased, so Lan went home. A few days later, when Lan did not visit the hamlet to see her, Hanh went up the hill.
"Are you angry with me?"
"No."
"Why didn’t you come to see me?"
"I was busy. Have they left your house, those hunters?"
"They left on that afternoon."
"They killed all the birds."
"How can they kill thousands of birds?"
"Oh, is that so?" Lan was livid with rage and walked away to the cow shed. But that very afternoon he pedalled to the hamlet to see Hanh. He missed her.
Then, another morning, the sounds of shotgun filled the air again. Lan took a stick and ran downhill towards the marsh. Hanh was there with the three men, looking with great pleasure at the birds with their wings outstretched, their chests red with blood. When she saw him, she said cheerfully:
"Lan, have a look. They are true marksmen. They will teach me how to shoot!"
A feeling of emptiness and exhaustion engulfed him. He looked into her eyes for a long time, then left.
The following days, the sounds of shooting continued to disturb the idyllic, poetic peace of the area. Lan did not go to see Hanh any more. But in his dream he saw himself running from the peak of the hill to the hamlet looking for her. And at the end of the dream, he heard the repeated sounds of the shotguns and saw the teals falling down like dry leaves in the wind.
The killing intensified thereafter. Hunters from the city flocked to Dam Lai in droves on holidays, shooting down the teals and other birds. Hanh no longer came to the farm to visit Lan. She had fallen in love with one of the three young men and was waiting with great emotion for the promised wedding day.
The teals were getting scarcer and scarcer at Dam Lai. And one morning the sky around the hills became very quiet. No longer could one hear the flapping of the wings of the teals. For Lan, the realisation was sorrowful. He would wake up very early and hold his breath, hoping to hear the sounds of flapping wings. But, almost miraculously, Dam Lai became a desolated area. And the hunters were no longer to be seen.
The foetus in Hanh was growing with every passing day. She usually woke up before dawn, not to wait for the teals, but for the young man. But he never returned. She did not know where he came from, as she had not known where the teals came from. Then she gave birth to a baby. By the time the baby was a year old, she had given up hope that that the hunter would return. Sometimes, late in the afternoon, she would come to Dam Lai and sit on the edge of the marsh by herself. It was thus that she met Lan again. She cried and said: "He has not come back. And the teals are not coming either..."
Lan sighed: "Right. He will never come back. But the teals will return."
"Will they really return, brother?"
"Yes, they will."
"I pray for them to return. I pray," She said this with great emotion. Lan looked in surprise at her.
"I pray for the teals to return so that you will not be unhappy." She ran away. Her words revived memories and feelings in Lan. That night, he dreamed that the teals were flying all over the sky, and he flew downhill looking for her. The next day, in the afternoon, he rode his bicycle to Hanh’s hamlet. As she saw him, she asked hopefully: "Did you see any teal returning?"
"No. But they will. I saw them return in my dream."
He felt the old feelings surge, at once strange and familiar, from the bottom of his heart.
"When they return," he told her as if he was whispering to himself "I will take you to the marsh to look at them search for food."
"Don’t say that. I am completely ruined. Nothing of the past will return to me!"
"The teals will return, surely."
From that day on, Lan rode to see Hanh almost every day, as in the past. He would tell her about his dream about the teals returning. He could even smell the odour of the birds.
"But for me, those days will never return," she said, eyes reddened from crying. As Lan looked at Hanh, he felt his whole being fill up with the quiet and romantic scene around them.
"The teals will return, because they cannot forget these hills. And everything will return. I ... I wish so..."
Lan woke up hearing the flapping of wings in his dream. But the flapping continued. Was it raining? The flapping got louder and louder. It never rained in the first and second months of the lunar year. He hurriedly got out of bed and rushed out. There was no rain. A warm wind was blowing through the hilly area. He looked up into the sky. He could hear very clearly the flapping of the wings and even their cries. His whole body trembling, he rushed to the marsh. Even before he got there, he heard the familiar sound of the birds looking for food in the green sedge. He picked up a stone and threw it into the sedge. A few teals flapped their wings and flew up into the sky.
"They have returned. They really have returned!" He could not restrain himself from shouting. Then, all of a sudden, he ran to the farm. He put on his shoes and warm clothes. And road away on his battered bike. He was looking for Hanh.
Translated by Hoang Tuy
