One afternoon in August, it was very warm, and a group of children were trying to catch those colorful butterflies. I can't help thinking of an impressive thing that happened in my childhood. I was 12 years old and lived in South Carolina. I often catch some wild animals and put them in cages. After that, my interest was thrown away. My home is on the edge of the forest. Every sunset and dusk, a flock of American thrush birds will come to the forest to rest and sing. That song is so beautiful that no human instrument can play such a beautiful tune. I decided to catch a little thrush, put it in my cage and let it sing for me. Sure enough, I succeeded. First, it flapped its wings and flew around in the cage, very scared. But then it quieted down and admitted its new home. Standing in front of the cage, listening to the wonderful singing of my little musician, I feel extremely happy. It's a godsend. I put the cage in my backyard. The next day, its loving mother flew to the cage with food in her mouth. Mother thrush asked the little thrush to swallow the food bit by bit. Of course, mother Thrushcross knows it's much better than me feeding her baby. It seems that this is good for everyone. The next morning, I went to see what my little prisoner was doing and found him lying quietly at the bottom of the cage, dead. I'm confused about this. I don't know what happened. I think my bird has been taken good care of. It coincided with the famous ornithologist Arthur? Willie came to see my father and stayed at my house. I told him the terrible misfortune of the poor boy. Hearing this, he made an incisive explanation: "When a female American thrush finds her child locked in a cage, she must feed the little thrush with poisonous berries enough to kill her. She seems to think that it is better for her child to die than to be a prisoner alive. " From then on, I will never catch any living things and put them in cages. Because any creature has the pursuit of free life, and this pursuit is undoubtedly worthy of recognition.