Original Text
There are many varieties of pigeons: in Shanxi there is the Kunxing, in Shandong the Hexiao, in Guizhou the Yedie, in Hanzhong the Fantiao, and in Zhejiang the Zhujian—all of these are exceptional breeds. There are also the Xuetou, Dianzi, Dabai, Heishi, Fuque, Huagouyan, and countless others, so numerous that only a devoted pigeon fancier can distinguish them. Zhang Youliang, a young gentleman of Zouping County, had a passion for raising pigeons; he sought out every breed according to the "Pigeon Classic," striving to possess them all. He tended his pigeons as if caring for infants: when they caught a chill, he treated them with licorice; when they suffered from heat, he used salt grains. Pigeons are fond of sleeping, but if they sleep too much, some may die of paralysis. In Yangzhou, Zhang spent ten taels of silver to buy a pigeon of the smallest size, which was adept at walking; when placed on the ground, it would circle endlessly without stopping until it dropped from exhaustion, so someone had to keep it constantly in hand. At night, it was set among the flock to startle the others, preventing them from developing numb legs—this pigeon was called "Night Wanderer." Among the pigeon experts of Shandong, none raised them better than Zhang, and he prided himself on his skill.
One night, Master Zhang sat in his study when he suddenly saw a white-clad youth knock and enter, a complete stranger. Zhang asked him, and he replied, "I am a wanderer, my name not worth mentioning. From afar I heard that you raise the finest pigeons, which is also my lifelong passion; pray let me feast my eyes." Zhang released all his pigeons, a riot of five colors, brilliant as brocade clouds. The youth smiled and said, "As they say, indeed you are a master of pigeon-keeping. I too have one or two; would you care to see them?" Overjoyed, Zhang followed the youth. The moon was dim, the wild graves desolate, and Zhang felt uneasy. The youth pointed and said, "A few more steps, and my lodging is near." After a few more steps, they saw a Daoist temple of only two rooms. The youth took Zhang's hand and entered; it was pitch dark, with no lamp. The youth stood in the courtyard and imitated a pigeon's coo. Suddenly two pigeons flew out, like common ones but pure white, soaring to the eaves, cooing and fighting, each clash ending in a somersault. The youth waved his arm, and they flew off wing to wing. He then pursed his lips and made a strange sound, and two more pigeons came: one large as a duck, the other small as a fist, landing on the steps and dancing like cranes. The large one stretched its neck, spread its wings like a screen, turning and leaping, cooing and dancing as if enticing the small one; the small one fluttered and chirped, sometimes alighting on the large one's head, flapping its wings like a swallow on a reed, its voice fine as a rattle-drum; the large one stretched its neck motionless. Its cries grew more urgent, like a chime stone, their calls echoing in pairs, the pauses and rhythms perfectly timed. Soon the small one flew up, and the large one beckoned again. Zhang praised endlessly, feeling far inferior. He bowed and begged to have one, but the youth refused. Zhang insisted. The youth then drove away the two pigeons, again made the earlier cooing sound, summoned the two white pigeons, and held them out, saying, "If you do not disdain them, take these two as a token." Zhang took them and admired them: their eyes were amber in the moonlight, clear and transparent as if without obstruction, the black pupils round as peppercorns; lifting their wings, the flesh beneath was crystal clear, even the organs visible. Zhang was amazed but still unsatisfied, and hinted for more. The youth said, "There are two more I have not shown; I dare not let you see them now." As they argued, Zhang's family arrived with torches, searching for him. Looking back, the youth had turned into a white pigeon, as large as a chicken, soaring into the night sky. The courtyard and buildings vanished, leaving only a small grave with two cypress trees before it. Zhang and his family, holding the pigeons, marveled and returned. He tried flying the two pigeons; they were as tame as before, though not the youth's best, yet rare in the mortal world. Zhang cherished them dearly. After two years, they bred three pairs of young, which even close friends and relatives could not obtain.
A certain gentleman, a high-ranking official and friend of Young Master Zhang's father, once met Zhang and asked, "How many pigeons are you keeping?" Zhang stammered and withdrew, suspecting that the gentleman fancied pigeons himself. He thought of presenting some as a gift to repay the official's kindness, yet found it hard to part with his beloved birds. But reflecting that a senior's request could not be overly defied, and not daring to offer ordinary pigeons, he selected two white pigeons, placed them in a cage, and sent them to the gentleman, deeming this no less than a gift of a thousand gold pieces. Another day, when Zhang met the gentleman, his face bore an expression of one who had bestowed a favor, yet the gentleman uttered not a single word of thanks. Unable to contain himself, Zhang asked, "How were the pigeons I sent you the other day?" The gentleman replied, "Quite plump and tasty." Zhang cried out in alarm, "You boiled and ate them?" "Indeed," said the gentleman. Zhang's face turned pale with shock, and he exclaimed, "Those were no ordinary pigeons—they were the breed known as 'Tartar'!" The gentleman savored the memory and said, "The flavor was nothing out of the ordinary." Zhang returned home sighing and full of regret. That night, he dreamed of a young man in white robes who came to rebuke him, saying, "I thought you would cherish the pigeons, so I entrusted my offspring to you. Why did you cast a bright pearl into darkness, leading to the calamity of being boiled to death? Now I am taking my children away!" With these words, the youth transformed into a white pigeon, and all the pigeons Zhang kept followed it, flying and cooing as they departed straight into the distance. At dawn, Zhang went to check his pigeons and found them all gone. Deeply disheartened, he distributed the remaining pigeons he had raised to friends, and within a few days, they were all given away.
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: All things gather in the hands of those who cherish them, thus when Lord Ye loved dragons, true dragons descended upon his abode; how much more so when a scholar yearns for worthy friends, he shall obtain them, and when a wise ruler longs for virtuous ministers, they shall come to him! Yet money alone, though loved by many, is gathered by but few. From this we see that the spirits resent the covetous, but not the infatuated.
In former times, a friend presented Young Master Sun Yunnian with some red carp, but as there was no clever and nimble servant in the household, he dispatched an old retainer to deliver them. Upon arriving at the Sun mansion, the old servant poured out the water, took out the fish, and requested a platter to arrange them neatly before presenting them inside. By the time they reached the master, the fish had already died from dryness. Young Master Sun saw this and smiled without a word, rewarded the old servant with wine, and ordered the fish to be cooked to accompany his drink. When the old servant returned, his master asked, "Was the young master pleased to receive the fish?" He replied, "Exceedingly pleased." The master inquired, "How do you know?" The servant answered, "The young master smiled with joy upon seeing the fish, immediately commanded that I be given wine, and even had several fish cooked to reward me, his humble servant." The master was startled, thinking that the fish he had sent were by no means inferior, so why would they be cooked and given to a servant? He then rebuked the old servant, saying, "Surely you were foolish and discourteous, and thus the young master vented his anger upon the fish!" The old servant raised his hand and vehemently argued, "I am indeed ignorant and dull-witted, but do you take me for one who understands nothing? When I went to the gate to deliver the fish to the young master, I was so careful that, fearing the fish would look unsightly in a bucket, I respectfully requested a platter, arranged the fish one by one in proper order, and then presented them. Was there any detail I failed to attend to?" Upon hearing this, the master cursed him roundly and dismissed him.
In the Lingyin Temple there lived a monk who was renowned for his mastery of the tea ceremony, possessing exquisite tea stoves and tea grinders. Yet the teas he stored were of several grades, and he would decide which to brew and serve based on the rank of his guest, reserving the finest leaves for none but the most distinguished visitors or true connoisseurs. One day, a high-ranking official arrived, and the monk, with great reverence, paid his respects, brought out the finest tea, personally brewed it, and presented it, hoping for praise. The official drank it without uttering a word. Greatly perplexed, the monk then brewed and served his very best tea. When the cup was nearly empty, still no word of commendation came. Unable to contain himself, the monk bowed and asked, "How does the tea taste, Your Excellency?" The official, holding the cup, raised his hand and replied, "Too hot!"
These two incidents are as amusing as Master Zhang's gift of pigeons, both worthy of eliciting a chuckle from those who hear of them.
Commentary
According to archaeological and documentary records, the history of human domestication of pigeons spans over five thousand years. The timeline of pigeon domestication in China is roughly synchronous. During the Tang Dynasty, Prime Minister Zhang Jiuling used pigeons to deliver letters over a thousand li. Emperor Zhao Gou of the Southern Song Dynasty delighted in raising pigeons, and the verse "Ten thousand pigeons circle the imperial capital, released at dawn and gathered at dusk, a labor of love" remains widely recited to this day. The "Pigeon Classic" (Ge Jing), authored by Zhang Wanzhong of Zouping in the Ming Dynasty, is a detailed and richly documented work, recognized as the world's earliest specialized treatise on pigeon breeding. The "Young Master Zhang of Zouping" mentioned in this tale alludes to him or uses him as a model. The "Pigeon Classic" was written in the late Ming and published in the thirty-fifth year of the Kangxi reign (1696). It is uncertain whether Pu Songling ever saw the printed edition, but Zhang Wanzhong, a notable figure of the late Ming and early Qing dynasties and the father-in-law of Wang Yuyang, was well known to Pu Songling; thus, it is likely that Pu was familiar with his life and works and may have seen a manuscript copy of the "Pigeon Classic."
Raising pigeons serves different purposes: some for viewing pleasure, some for military communication, and some for food. Among these, viewing belongs to the spiritual realm—that is, 'fondness'—an aesthetic appreciation, which the author admires. Conversely, for the sake of the palate, for money, or for other ends, the author considers it akin to burning a zither for firewood or cooking a crane for meat. This tale not only expresses the author's aesthetic taste and reveals him as a naturalist, but also showcases his superb skill in depicting animals. The description of the pigeons' forms and appearances, their graceful dancing, undoubtedly captures the true essence of vivid portrayal found in the 'Xiaoya: Wuyang' chapter of the Book of Songs.