6.Wisdom of Bear Wood(1522)

Passage Six

Michael Welzenbach was a writer who loved art and music. He was an art critic for the Washington Post and wrote about art and music in a way that was very interesting.

迈克尔·韦森巴赫是一位热爱艺术和音乐的作家。他是《华盛顿邮报》的艺术评论家，以一种非常有趣的方式写艺术和音乐。

Wisdom of Bear Wood

Michael Welzenbach

【1】When I was 12 years old, my family moved to England, the fourth major move in my short life. My father's government job demanded that he go overseas every few years, so I was used to wrenching myself away from friends. We rented an 18th-century farmhouse in Berkshire. Nearby were ancient castles and churches.

【2】Loving nature, however, I was most delighted by the endless patchwork of farms and woodland that surrounded our house. In the deep woods that verged against our back fence, a network of paths led almost everywhere, and pheasants rocketed off into the dense laurels ahead as you walked.

【3】I spent most of my time roaming the woods and fields alone, playing Robin Hood, daydreaming, collecting bugs, and bird-watching. It was heaven for a boy, but a lonely heaven. Keeping to myself was my way of not forming attachments that I would only have to abandon the next time we moved. But one day, I became attached through no design of my own.

【4】We had been in England about six months when old farmer Crawford gave me permission to roam about his immense property. I started hiking there every weekend, up a long, sloping hill to an almost impenetrable stand of trees called Bear Wood.

【5】It was my secret fortress, almost a holy place, I thought. Slipping through a barbed-wire fence, I'd leave the bright sun and the twitter and rustle of insects and animals outside and creep into another world—a vaulted cathedral, with tree trunks for pillars and years’ accumulation of long brown needles for a softly carpeted floor. My own breathing rang in my ears, and the slightest stirring of any woodland creature echoed through this private paradise.

【6】One spring afternoon, I wandered near where I thought I'd glimpsed a pond the week before. I proceeded quietly, careful not to alarm a bird that might loudly warn other creatures to hide. Perhaps this is why the frail old lady I nearly ran into was as startled as I was. She caught her breath, instinctively touching her throat with her hand.

【7】Then, recovering quickly, she gave a welcoming smile that instantly put me at ease. A pair of powerful-looking binoculars dangled from her neck. "Hello, young man," she said. "Are you American or Canadian?" American, I explained in a rush, and I lived over the hill, and I was just seeing if there was a pond, and farmer Crawford had said it was okay, and anyhow, I was on my way home, so good-bye.

【8】As I started to turn, the woman smiled and asked, "Did you see the little owl from the wood over there today?" She pointed toward the edge of the wood. She knew about the owls? I was amazed. "No," I replied, "but I've seen them before. Never close though. They always see me first." The woman laughed. "Yes, they're wary," she said. "But then, gamekeepers have been shooting them ever since they got here.

【9】They're introduced, you know, not native." "They're not?" I asked, fascinated. Anybody who knew this sort of stuff was definitely cool—even if she was trespassing in my special place. "Oh, no!" she answered, laughing again. "At home I have books on birds that explain all about them. In fact," she said suddenly, "I was about to go back for tea and jam tart. Would you care to join me?"

【10】I had been warned against going off with strangers, but somehow I sensed the old woman was harmless. "Sure," I said. "I'm Mrs. Robertson-Glasgow," she introduced herself, extending her fine hand. "Michael," I said, taking it clumsily in my own.

【11】We set off. And as we walked, she told me how she and her husband had moved to Berkshire after he'd retired as a college professor about ten years earlier. "He passed away last year," she said, looking suddenly wistful. "So now I'm alone, and I have all this time to walk the fields."

【12】Soon I saw a small brick cottage that glowed pinkly in the westering sun. Mrs. Robertson-Glasgow opened the door and invited me in. I gazed about in silent admiration at the bookshelves, glass-fronted cases containing figures of ivory and carved stone, cabinets full of fossils, trays of pinned butterflies, and, best of all, a dozen or so stuffed birds—including a glass-eyed eagle owl. "Wow!" was all I could say.

【13】"Does your mother expect you home at a particular time?" she asked as she ran the water for tea. "No," I lied. Then, glancing at the clock, I added, "Well, maybe by five." That gave me almost an hour, not nearly enough time to ask about every single object in the room. But between mouthfuls of tea and jam tart, I learned all sorts of things from Mrs. Robertson-Glasgow.

【14】The hour went by much too swiftly. Mrs. Robertson-Glasgow had to practically push me out the door. But she sent me home with two large tomes, one full of beautiful illustrations of birds, and one of butterflies and other insects. I promised to return them the next weekend if she didn't mind my coming by. She smiled and said she'd look forward to that.

【15】I had made the best friend in the world. When I returned the books, she lent me more. Soon I began to see her almost every weekend, and my well of knowledge about natural history began to brim over. At school, I earned the nickname "Prof" and some respect from my fellow students. Even the school bully brought me a dead bird he had found, or probably shot, to identify.

【16】During the summer, I spent blissfully long days with my friend. I discovered she made the finest shortbread in the world. We would explore Bear Wood, munching happily and discussing the books she had lent me. In the afternoons, we would return to the cottage, and she would talk about her husband—what a fine man he'd been. Once or twice she seemed about to cry and left the room quickly to make more tea. But she always came back smiling.

【17】As time passed, I did not notice that she was growing frailer and less inclined to laugh. Familiarity sometimes makes people physically invisible, for you find yourself talking to the heart—to the essence, as it were, rather than to the face. I suspected, of course, that she was lonely; I did not know she was ill.

【18】Back at school, I began to grow quickly. I played soccer and made a good friend. But I still stopped by the cottage on weekends, and there was always fresh shortbread. One morning when I went downstairs to the kitchen, there was a familiar-looking biscuit tin on the table. I eyed it as I went to the refrigerator.

【19】My mother was regarding me with a strange gentleness. "Son," she began, painfully. And from the tone of her voice, I knew everything instantly. She rested her hand on the biscuit tin. "Mr. Crawford brought these this morning." She paused, and I could tell she was having difficulty. "Mrs. Robertson-Glasgow left them for you." I stared out the window, tears stinging my eyes.

【20】"I'm sorry, Michael, but she died yesterday," she went on. "She was very old and very ill, and it was time." My mother put her arm about my shoulder. "You made her very happy, because she was lonely," she said. "You were lucky to be such a good friend for her."

【21】Wordlessly, I took the tin to my room and set it on my bed. Then, hurrying downstairs, I burst through the front door and ran to the woods. I wandered for a long time, until my eyes had dried and I could see clearly again. It was spring—almost exactly a year since I'd met the old woman in Bear Wood.

【22】I looked around me and realized how much I now knew about birds, insects, plants, and trees, thanks to her help. And then I remembered that back in my bedroom, I had a tin of the best shortbread in the world, and I should go and eat it like I always did on weekends at Mrs. Robertson-Glasgow's cottage.

【23】In time, that old round tin filled up with dried leaves, fossils, and bits of colorful stone, and countless other odds and ends. I still have it. But I have much more—the legacy of that long-ago encounter in Bear Wood.

【24】It is a wisdom tutored by nature itself, about the seen and the unseen, about things that change and things that are changeless, and about the fact that no matter how seemingly different two souls may be, they possess the potential for that most precious, rare thing—an enduring and rewarding friendship.

第六课

熊林的智慧

迈克尔·韦森巴赫

【1】当我12岁的时候，我们家搬到了英国，这是我短暂生命中的第四次重大搬家。父亲的政府工作要求他每隔几年就要出国一次，所以我已经习惯了远离朋友。我们在伯克郡租了一栋18世纪的农舍。附近是古老的城堡和教堂。

【2】然而，我热爱大自然，最令我欣喜的是我们家周围连绵不绝的农场和林地。在我们屋后栅栏边上的树林深处，有一条小路几乎通向任何地方，你走着走着，野鸡就像火箭一样飞进前面茂密的月桂树丛里。

【3】我大部分时间都独自在树林和田野里漫游，扮演罗宾汉的角色，做白日梦，收集虫子，看鸟。这是男孩的天堂，但却是孤独的天堂。保持自我是我不形成依恋的方式，我只会在下次搬家时放弃。但有一天，我不由自主地爱上了她。

【4】我们在英国待了大约六个月后，老农民克劳福德允许我在他的巨大财产中闲逛。我开始每个周末都去那里徒步旅行，爬上一座长长的斜坡，到达一个几乎密不禁风的树林，叫做熊林。

【5】这是我的秘密堡垒，几乎是一个神圣的地方，我想。我溜过带刺的铁丝网，离开外面明亮的阳光、昆虫和动物的啾啾声和沙沙声，爬进另一个世界，一个拱形的大教堂，树干是柱子，多年积累的棕色长针是柔软的地毯。我自己的呼吸声在耳边回响，森林里任何生物最轻微的动静都回荡在这个私人天堂里。

【6】一个春天的下午，我在附近徘徊，我想我一周前瞥见过一个池塘。我悄悄地走着，小心翼翼地不惊动一只鸟，因为它可能会大声警告其他生物躲起来。也许这就是为什么我差点撞到的那位虚弱的老妇人和我一样吃惊的原因。她屏住呼吸，本能地用手摸着喉咙。

【7】然后，她很快恢复过来，给了我一个欢迎的微笑，使我立刻放松下来。她脖子上挂着一副高倍望远镜。“你好，年轻人，”她说。“你是美国人还是加拿大人?”“美国人，”我匆忙地解释道，“我住在山那边，我只是想看看那里有没有池塘，农民克劳福德说没问题，不管怎样，我要回家了，所以再见。”

【8】当我正要转身时，那个女人微笑着问:“你今天看到那边树林里的小猫头鹰了吗?”她指着树林的边缘。她知道猫头鹰的事?我很惊讶。“没有，”我回答，“但我以前见过他们。但从来没有接近过。他们总是先看到我。”女人笑了。“是的，他们很谨慎，”她说。“但是，自从它们来到这里，猎场看守人就一直在射杀它们。

【9】它们是引进来的，不是本地的。”“他们不是?”我好奇地问。任何知道这类事情的人都绝对是很酷的，即使她擅自闯入了我的特殊场所。“哦，不!”她回答，又笑了起来。“我家里有关于鸟类的书，解释了关于它们的一切。事实上，”她突然说，“我正要回去喝茶吃果酱馅饼。你愿意和我一起去吗?”

【10】有人警告过我不要和陌生人出去，但不知怎的，我感觉到那个老妇人没有恶意。“当然，”我说。“我是罗伯逊-格拉斯哥太太，”她自我介绍，伸出她那灵巧的手。“迈克尔，”我说，笨拙地把它握在自己手里。

【11】我们出发了。我们走着走着，她告诉我，大约十年前，她的丈夫从大学教授的职位上退休后，她和丈夫搬到了伯克郡。“他去年去世了，”她说，突然显得很伤感。“所以现在我一个人，我有很多时间去田野里走走。”

【12】不久，我看见一座砖房，在西斜的阳光下闪着粉红色的光。罗伯逊-格拉斯哥太太打开门，请我进去。我默默地钦佩地凝视着书架，玻璃柜里放着象牙和石雕，橱柜里摆满了化石，托盘里别着蝴蝶，最重要的是，有一打左右的鸟类标本，包括一只玻璃眼睛的鹰鸮。我只能说“哇!”。

【13】“你妈妈希望你什么时候回家吗?”她一边沏茶一边问。“不，”我撒了个谎。然后，我看了一眼钟，补充说:“嗯，也许五点吧。”这给了我将近一个小时的时间，远远不够我去询问房间里的每一件物品。但在大口喝茶和果酱馅饼的间隙，我从罗伯逊-格拉斯哥太太那里学到了很多东西。

【14】时间过得太快了。罗伯逊-格拉斯哥夫人几乎是把我推出门了。但她让我带了两本大部头的书回家，一本是关于鸟的美丽插图，另一本是蝴蝶和其他昆虫的插图。我答应如果她不介意我过来的话，下周末就把它们还给她。她笑着说她很期待。

【15】我交了世界上最好的朋友。当我还书的时候，她又借给我一些。不久，我开始几乎每个周末都去看她，我的博物学知识也开始丰富起来。在学校里，我赢得了“教授”的绰号和同学们的尊敬。就连那个校园恶霸也给我带来了一只他发现的，或者可能是射死的死鸟，让我辨认。

【16】夏天，我和朋友一起度过了幸福的漫长时光。我发现她做的酥饼是世界上最好吃的。我们一起探索贝尔森林，愉快地咀嚼着，讨论着她借给我的书。下午，我们会回到小屋，她会谈论她的丈夫，他是个多么好的人。有一两次，她几乎要哭了，赶紧离开房间去沏茶。但她总是微笑着回来。

【17】随着时间的流逝，我没有注意到她变得越来越虚弱，越来越不爱笑了。熟悉有时会让人看不见，因为你会发现自己在与心交谈，可以说是与本质交谈，而不是与脸交谈。当然，我怀疑她是孤独的;我不知道她病了。

【18】回到学校后，我开始快速成长。我踢足球，交了一个好朋友。但周末我还是会去小屋看看，那里总是有新鲜的酥饼。一天早上，当我下楼去厨房时，桌子上有一个看起来很熟悉的饼干盒。我走到冰箱前时看到了它。

【19】我母亲以一种奇怪的温柔注视着我。“儿子，”她痛苦地说。从她的语气中，我立刻知道了一切。她把手放在饼干罐头上。“克劳福德先生今天早上送来的。”她停顿了一下，我能看出她有困难。“罗伯逊-格拉斯哥太太留给你的。”我凝视着窗外，泪水刺痛了我的眼睛。

【20】“对不起，迈克尔，她昨天死了，”她接着说。“她很老，病得很重，是时候了。”我妈妈用胳膊搂着我的肩膀。“你让她很开心，因为她很孤独，”她说。“你很幸运能成为她的好朋友。”

【21】我一言不发地把罐头拿回房间，放在床上。然后，我匆匆下楼，冲出前门，跑向树林。我徘徊了很长时间，直到我的眼睛干了，我又能看清楚了。现在是春天，距离我在贝尔林见到那位老妇人几乎整整一年了。

【22】我环顾四周，意识到多亏了她的帮助，我现在对鸟类、昆虫、植物和树木了解得如此之多。然后我想起在我的卧室里，我有一罐世界上最好的脆饼，我应该去吃它，就像我周末在罗伯逊-格拉斯哥太太的小屋里所做的那样。

【23】随着时间的推移，那个又旧又圆的罐子里装满了干树叶、化石、彩色的石头碎片和无数其他的零碎东西。我还留着它。但我留下的远不止这些，那是很久以前在贝尔林的那次邂逅。

【24】这是一种由大自然赋予的智慧，关于看得见的和看不见的，关于变化的和不变的，关于这样一个事实:无论两个灵魂看起来多么不同，他们都有可能拥有最珍贵、最罕见的东西，持久而有益的友谊。