In our Shanghai neighborhood near Tonji University, I saw few dogs being walked compared to the number of people on the streets. I saw some strays, and also little dogs that sat eerily quiet beside vendors at their businesses. But I came across a charming alternative to dog walking—walking birds.
A small park a few blocks from our apartment had beautiful trees, a stream, and stone sculptures. Hundreds of Chinese showed up every morning to exercise. Groups included women dancing with beautiful fans, people who thumped acupuncture spots on their bodies, tai chi practitioners (I joined that group), walkers moving along at a brisk pace, and even people doing a version of ballroom dancing.
About 6 am, men carrying birds in cages arrived. The cages were small, with beautiful blue covers on them. Most of the birds were robin size and a breed I can't identify, but some were canaries and finches. Each cage had a set of small, beautiful China jars—one for water, one for food.
The men hung the cages on trees and pulled back the covers. One day I said ni hao to one of the robin-size birds and he replied with a beautiful song. Others took it up, and it was noisy and wonderful.
That's how it was. At various times, birds would burst into song, making the park an even lovelier place. While the birds had their version of a get-together, the bird owners, older gentlemen, sat and visited, smoked, or played mahjong.
About 8 am, the men would begin to remove cages from trees, and take the birds home.
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