My favorite is "back basket" (also called back dung, a kind of migratory bird, named after the call). In my hometown, on the 15th day of the first month, the wheat is yellow, and the back basket is with a kind of migratory bird called "duwu". They are like lovers of different nationalities, singing all the time in the woods in front of and behind the village. Several times, I wanted to see how big the bird was and how beautiful the color of its fur was. I felt it quietly towards the call, but the call was more and more far away from me, and I couldn't get close to it. I asked the old hunter in the village, and said that he had never caught the bird, and I didn't know what kind of it might be the cause of the migratory bird. The back basket was the first bird that came to the city with me. It ate, drank, pulled and sowed. It was also in the woods beside the community. When the sun came out, it would urge people to work like "back dung" and "back dung". At dusk on the west mountain, it would be like a mother calling for her son: "back" and "back".<br>
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