One sunny afternoon, I decided to spend my day at the National Garden, exploring its lush greenery and hidden nooks. While wandering through the garden’s quiet paths, I noticed a variety of colorful birds flitting between the trees. Their cheerful songs filled the air, inspiring me to try my hand at an old forest skill—making a simple bird trap.
I gathered a few slender sticks and strong twine that I always carry in my pack. My goal wasn’t to harm the birds but to understand how our ancestors lived off the land. In the quiet clearing of the garden, I carefully assembled the trap.
First, I set up a frame with the sticks, forming a small cage-like structure. I wove the twine around the sticks, creating a light but firm trap door that would swing down when triggered. For the bait, I used a small piece of sweet fruit from the garden’s trees—something I knew the birds couldn’t resist.
As I worked, I marveled at the clever design of this simple trap. It didn’t require much effort, and yet it was effective. My mind wandered back to the days when people lived close to nature and relied on these skills for survival.
When everything was set, I placed the trap near a cluster of bright flowers, a place where birds loved to gather. I sat back quietly, waiting with a calm patience. Soon enough, a curious little bird hopped closer, drawn by the sweet scent of the fruit.
The trap door swung shut with a soft rustle. I quickly opened the trap and released the bird, happy to see it fly away unharmed. I didn’t want to keep it—I only wanted to test my skill and honor the old ways.
The experience left me grateful for the knowledge of simple, ancient tools, and for the beauty of the National Garden, which brought me closer to the quiet rhythms of the wild.
