We really threw ourselves off the grid in Yinchuan, the provincial capital of Ningxia and the last northern outpost on the Yellow River before you hit the Helan Mountains and the vast expanse of the Gobi Desert. This is the first place we went with no connections- Liu Yu had no friends there, no friends of friends. We (I) decided we should go anyway, that our swallow-finding skills were honed enough to manage alone in a completely unknown city.
We wound up standing in the desert in a gray, cold rain, near the border with Inner Mongolia, surrounded by miles of rocky, grass-tufted soil, gazing at a big outdoor film set where they used to film Chinese Westerns. Two massive Chinese lions roared between Pueblo-style gates while a big gold replica Oscar statue loomed behind, and Chinese tourists huddled under umbrellas with their cameras. There were no swallows there.
We wound up standing in the desert in a gray, cold rain, near the border with Inner Mongolia, surrounded by miles of rocky, grass-tufted soil, gazing at a big outdoor film set where they used to film Chinese Westerns. Two massive Chinese lions roared between Pueblo-style gates while a big gold replica Oscar statue loomed behind, and Chinese tourists huddled under umbrellas with their cameras. There were no swallows there.
We arrived in Yinchuan the day before to pleasant weather, a beautiful new train station, and few crowds. We felt optimistic, and quickly headed to the “old” part of the city, in which no building could have been more than 20 years old. After an hour or so we managed to stumble on a giant market- mostly packaged goods and hardware supplies, but there were swallows flying around, particularly near the small strip of fruit, vegetable, and prepared food stalls. This pattern has been the same nearly everywhere we’ve gone: where there’s food, there’s mud and insects, and where there’s mud and insects, there are barn swallows.
Unfortunately, these swallows were doing something we didn’t want to see: building nests, and from the looks of it, they had just started. This is a bad sign for catching them- if the nest is in the early stages of building, they often don’t sleep near it, making it nearly impossible to catch them at night. Still, we found a few places to work. There were some possible nests in the market, and there were two nearby apartment complexes with bunch of birds in them. These were interesting: you entered from a small, dark door in a side alley, and inside was a 4-story apartment building built around a central courtyard. Each level had a open walkway to access the individual units, and the birds nested above the doors. No one seemed to care that foreigners were wandering around their apartments- another common theme of working in China. If we tried to work like this in the US, someone would have shot us for trespassing long ago. In China, people just say “Ahhhh” and nod when we tell them we’re in their yard looking for swallows. Then they take a photo of us with their phone.
We returned to the market that night and got skunked, catching only one bird. The apartment complexes turned out better: the birds were roosting on wires and on top of lighting fixtures, but we managed to scoop them up with a short net. We’ve gotten pretty proficient at catching swallows in small spaces, and we ended the night with a respectable 11 birds.
There were clearly no more easy nests to be found in the city, so the next day we hired a taxi to take us out to nearby villages. The owners of our hotel were eager to help and enthusiastically recommended a few places for us to check. The taxi driver nodded when Liu Yu gave her our destinations, and off we went. As we drove out of the city, the gray clouds opened up into a cold drizzle- something virtually unheard of in the desert province of Ningxia. This was not a good sign for finding birds.
There were clearly no more easy nests to be found in the city, so the next day we hired a taxi to take us out to nearby villages. The owners of our hotel were eager to help and enthusiastically recommended a few places for us to check. The taxi driver nodded when Liu Yu gave her our destinations, and off we went. As we drove out of the city, the gray clouds opened up into a cold drizzle- something virtually unheard of in the desert province of Ningxia. This was not a good sign for finding birds.
The next bad sign happened when we arrived at our first destination: the film studio. I had read about it in the Lonely Planet, and so knew immediately where we had ended up. “Did you know this was where we were going?” I asked Liu Yu. He said yes. “Then why did we come here?” “It’s an old village,” he said. It was indeed an old film set- it was first used for a very popular Chinese western in the 1980s. But there was a $20 ticket fee and the gates closed at night- we couldn’t work there even if there were any birds. Which there were not.
Our second stop was equally unpromising- another tourist site, this one built around an ancient rock art site at the base of the Helan Mountains. Again, we walked around in the cold drizzle, and again, saw no birds. The taxi driver was getting fidgety. We decided to go home.
Our second stop was equally unpromising- another tourist site, this one built around an ancient rock art site at the base of the Helan Mountains. Again, we walked around in the cold drizzle, and again, saw no birds. The taxi driver was getting fidgety. We decided to go home.
On the way back to Yinchuan we saw some actual villages that looked good for barn swallows, so we talked to our hotel proprietors again, and they found us a guy willing to drive us around the next day. A slightly perplexed- looking man picked us up at 7:30, and off we went, the weather finally clear. We found a few nests in what turned out to be a police station (police officer: “what are you doing here?” us: “looking for barn swallows” police officer: “Ahhh”) and another one in a goat farm. We caught a bird at the goat farm while our driver went fishing in the nearby river.
And then we finally hit the jackpot: a tiny village of mud-walled houses that was swarming with swallows. We walked around in amazement- there were birds everywhere. They, too, had recently arrived from their winter migration and were still fighting over territories. This meant they might not be sleeping on nests, but they had to roost somewhere and the village was tiny. We went door to door through asking permission to catch the birds around people’s houses that night.
And then we finally hit the jackpot: a tiny village of mud-walled houses that was swarming with swallows. We walked around in amazement- there were birds everywhere. They, too, had recently arrived from their winter migration and were still fighting over territories. This meant they might not be sleeping on nests, but they had to roost somewhere and the village was tiny. We went door to door through asking permission to catch the birds around people’s houses that night.
From the number of old nests in the sheds and eaves it was clear the swallows had been coming to this place for a long time. The village itself looked like it had been there forever- when we first arrived I had thought it might be abandoned. We asked an old man how old the place was, and he told us it had been there for over 40 years, and was originally built as a school to educate the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution. Now it was a shambly anachronism in modern China, its mud walls filled with ghosts.
We returned to the village that night, and after paying an exorbitant fare, told our taxi driver we’d call him when we needed a ride back to the city. He agreed, but was looking around the remote area a little skeptically. As he drove off, I really hoped he would come back. It was cold and windy and Yinchuan was a 30 minute drive away. It would be a long, miserable night if we were stranded.
I pushed the taxi out of my mind, and we set off down the dark, muddy streets. An old lady we had met earlier that day greeted us when we arrived at her door in the dark. There were swallows perching on wires under her eaves, and she opened her shed to show us more pairs inside. We quickly strung up nets and caught the birds, and she invited us to work inside. I was worried, because she was clearly about to go to bed and it would take us over an hour to process all the birds, but Liu Yu said it was fine, and the house was warm and out of the wind. Inside, we found one dimly lit room, with a platform bed, a small smoky stove and a mud-packed floor. So we set up our equipment and got started, in this old brick and mud house with its yard full of chickens, in a place that used to educate the infamous Red Guards. Even in my hurry to get the birds processed, it felt surreal.
I pushed the taxi out of my mind, and we set off down the dark, muddy streets. An old lady we had met earlier that day greeted us when we arrived at her door in the dark. There were swallows perching on wires under her eaves, and she opened her shed to show us more pairs inside. We quickly strung up nets and caught the birds, and she invited us to work inside. I was worried, because she was clearly about to go to bed and it would take us over an hour to process all the birds, but Liu Yu said it was fine, and the house was warm and out of the wind. Inside, we found one dimly lit room, with a platform bed, a small smoky stove and a mud-packed floor. So we set up our equipment and got started, in this old brick and mud house with its yard full of chickens, in a place that used to educate the infamous Red Guards. Even in my hurry to get the birds processed, it felt surreal.
We banded our birds as quickly as we could while the old woman sat on her bed-platform, wrapped in a blanket, and chattered to Liu Yu. At last we finished, and she waved goodbye. I told Liu Yu I was sorry to not be able to understand what she was saying, and asked him what she’d been talking about. “Oh,” he said. “Sad stories about her life. I think she is a little bit mad- she was talking to herself a lot. And she’s all alone.”
We kept working, and called the taxi driver when we had three more birds left, figuring it would take him about 30 minutes to arrive. We finished measuring the birds, and still no taxi. We went out to the side of the main road to wait. Still no taxi. It was cold and well after midnight. We sat on a concrete block, hands pulled into our sleeves. I grumbled and cursed at the taxi driver. I should have only paid him a quarter of the money up front, so he’d be forced to come back. We contemplated flagging down a passing car and asking for a lift. This was stupid. I was pissed. Why was I in this stupid place in the middle of nowhere chasing birds around?
We kept working, and called the taxi driver when we had three more birds left, figuring it would take him about 30 minutes to arrive. We finished measuring the birds, and still no taxi. We went out to the side of the main road to wait. Still no taxi. It was cold and well after midnight. We sat on a concrete block, hands pulled into our sleeves. I grumbled and cursed at the taxi driver. I should have only paid him a quarter of the money up front, so he’d be forced to come back. We contemplated flagging down a passing car and asking for a lift. This was stupid. I was pissed. Why was I in this stupid place in the middle of nowhere chasing birds around?
One of my favorite travel writers, Paul Theroux, has described a moment now quite familiar to me, when you pause and look around and realize where you are- somewhere crazy, say, like stranded on the side of the road in the middle of the night outside Yinchuan, freezing and hungry and wondering where the hell your ride is- and then suddenly feel such deep appreciation and gratitude for the wonderful and strange world we live in, and such complete satisfaction in being one tiny person roaming around it.
The taxi finally arrived around 1:30am. We climbed into the car and rode back to Yinchuan, and started laughing in the darkness
-Liz
The taxi finally arrived around 1:30am. We climbed into the car and rode back to Yinchuan, and started laughing in the darkness
-Liz