My hometown is in southern Hunan, which is full of lofty mountains, dangerous peaks and valleys, and cliffs. Nan bamboo, rhododendron, green pine, cypress, ginkgo biloba, Metasequoia, chestnut tree, yew tree... There are too many to count, hundreds of miles in a row, green and dripping, like a green ocean rolling in the waves.
The mountains and forests are densely hidden with tigers. When I was young, I met several times.
When I was four or five years old, I carried the handicraft that my mother had made for me, the small bamboo basket, and went to the vegetable garden with my grandmother to pick peppers. When I picked it for a short time, I wanted to pee, so I hurriedly threw down the small bamboo basket and ran to the ground to pee. After peeing, he turned around and came back, missing the small bamboo basket, looking around. oh! It turned out to be ''Big Yellow Cat'' who took my little bamboo basket away. I'm having fun like a mouse! I was angry, walked over, grabbed the small bamboo basket, and tried to win it back. ''Big Yellow Cat'' Naughty Bite Didn't Relax, the two of us like a tug-of-war, dragged over and pulled over. At some point, Grandma saw it, screamed, and fainted in fright. I also cried. ''The big yellow cat' 'As if he understood that he had made a mistake, he let go, looked at me, and walked back into the forest step by step...
Grandma woke up, no longer caring about picking peppers, hurriedly pulled me, stepped on her little feet, and flew home. Running home, he breathlessly talked about the tiger he had just encountered. Grandpa laughed and said, "The calves that have just been born are not afraid of tigers!" Are we in the mountains still afraid of tigers? The cats in the family are all the uncles of tigers! ''
When I was about 6 years old, I had a serious illness and never got better, and on a hazy night in the moon, my grandmother carried me and came to the wilderness with my father to summon my soul. Grandma shouted in a long voice: "'Folks--come back-'''' Daddy responded with the voice, ''Come back!'' Come back! Shouting, shouting, Grandma faintly saw a dark shadow in front of her, and she looked forward to it. Thinking that my soul had returned, he hurriedly hugged me and hurried home. The people of the mountains are not afraid of beasts, but only of ghosts. As soon as Grandma crossed the big threshold to enter, Dad quickly closed the door, but with great effort, he could not insert the latch.
It turned out that the black shadow was a big tiger. When Grandma first entered the gate, one of its front feet was stuck into the large threshold. Dad slammed the door shut, caught its front paws. Suddenly, it roared and scratched outside the door, biting and bumping. Dad tried his best to hold the door, tired and sweating profusely. Fortunately, the eldest brother held a thick door bar in time and firmly held the door against it. After a lot of noise, it finally calmed down. The next morning, open the door - look, the hard and thick nan wood door panel, scratched and bitten into a hundred holes, miserable. There is also a tiger's paw next to the threshold. I don't know if it was clipped off when the door was closed, or if the tiger caught it by itself.
When I was seven or eight years old, I often went up the mountain with my older brothers and sisters to cut firewood. Once, without hesitation, I slid down an earthen dam that was more than a foot high. After stabilizing, open your eyes and look, Mom! A striped tiger was standing in front of me with its bloody mouth wide open, less than a foot away from my face, and I was crying in fright.
The third brother grasped a large wooden stick and flew down. With all his strength, he slammed a stick on the tiger's back. But the tiger didn't move—neither barking, not running, nor angry. This was strange, the third brother poked hard again, and the tiger fell to the ground. It turned out to be a dead tiger leaning against a large pine tree, dying. As the saying goes, ''A tiger dies without falling into the wind'", and this statement is indeed true.
When I was 9 years old, I went to school. Every day after school, it is either to carry firewood or planed pig grass. One evening, when I was digging pig grass, at the mouth of a cave, I found three tiger cubs frolicking. The big tiger was not nearby, probably out to forage. I did not hurry to carry the three tiger cubs to the pig grass basket, and ran home with a cigarette. Somehow, the tigress knew that I had stolen her children. In the middle of the night, I found my door, yelled and screamed, and circled around the house. The mother of the tiger howls, the children of the tiger respond, miserable, miserable, liver and intestines are broken. Finally, Grandpa got up and released the three little tiger cubs from the dog hole one by one. I don't know how the tigress brought her three children home.
Later, there was a vigorous tiger fighting campaign. The hometown also put on electric lights and built roads. The trees were cut down in large areas and transported away by large carts and carts. There were fewer and fewer trees, and the mountains were getting balder. Tiger tracks are becoming increasingly rare.
Later, young and middle-aged laborers in the countryside flocked to the city to work and pan for gold. The countryside is becoming more and more depressed and desolate, and everywhere the weeds grow wildly and the trees grow wildly. The beasts in the mountains have unconsciously multiplied and soared...
Now the hometown is full of wild boars, foxes and rabbits, wild cats and badgers, and harm people everywhere!
alack! I haven't heard the roar of the tiger for more than forty years!!!