1
Xiao Wang arrived at Tomás's door before breakfast, out of breath and bursting with news.
Tomás! Tomás! The bird! It came back again!
Tomás looked up from his notebook, where he had been recording the latest observations of his líng cǎo experiment.
The same bird? From before?
Wang nodded vigorously.
Yes! Same branch! Same tree! Every morning, it comes. It sits there. It sings. Then it flies away. But it always comes back!
Tomás smiled. This was exactly the kind of observation he wanted the children to make.
Show me.
They walked through the village, past the Shenmu, to a smaller tree near the edge of the fields. It was an ordinary tree, nothing special, with thick branches and green leaves.
Wang pointed up.
There. That branch. The bird sits there.
Tomás looked. The branch was empty now, but he could see why a bird might like it. It was high, with a good view of the fields and the forest. Safe from predators, probably.
How do you know it's the same bird? - Tomás asked.
Wang thought about this.
It looks the same. Same size. Same color. Brown, with white on the wings. And it sings the same song. Every time.
Tomás nodded. Good reasoning.
Have you seen it do anything else? Besides sitting and singing?
Wang nodded again.
Yes! Sometimes it flies down to the fields. It picks things. Seeds, I think. Then it flies back to the tree. Sometimes it brings things to the branch. Small twigs. Dry grass.
Tomás felt a small thrill. Nesting behavior. The bird was not just visiting. It was building a home.
Wang, this is very important. You are watching a bird build its home. In my language, we call that a nest. The bird is making a nest in that tree.
Wang's eyes went wide.
A nest? Like... for babies?
Yes. Probably. The bird is getting ready to have eggs. Then baby birds.
Wang looked at the tree with new respect.
The tree is its home?
Tomás nodded.
For now, yes. The tree gives the bird a safe place. The bird helps the tree by... well, maybe by eating insects that could hurt the tree. Or by leaving droppings that feed the soil. They help each other.
Wang repeated the idea slowly:
The tree helps the bird. The bird helps the tree.
Yes. That's what we call symbiosis. Like the língniǎo and the guǒshù in the forest.
Wang thought about this for a long moment. Then he said:
So everything helps everything?
Tomás laughed.
Not everything. But many things. The world is full of connections. You just have to look for them.
2
By the time they returned to the village, other children had gathered.
Mei was there, with her flat stone covered in new scratches. Li Wei came running, holding a leaf with more charcoal marks. Little Feng arrived last, carrying a stick and looking proud.
They sat under the Shenmu, and Tomás asked them to share.
Mei went first. She held up her stone shyly.
I watched the small plants under the Shenmu. Every day, I looked. And I saw something. The ones near the trunk are different from the ones far away. Near the trunk, they are smaller. Far away, they are bigger.
Tomás examined her drawings. She had marked the trunk, then circles of plants around it.
Why do you think that is, Mei?
She thought.
Maybe the big tree takes something from the ground? Near the trunk, there is less for the small plants?
Tomás nodded, impressed.
That's a very good hypothesis. The Shenmu is huge. It needs a lot of water, a lot of nutrients. Close to it, there is less for other plants. That makes sense.
Mei smiled, pleased.
Li Wei went next. His leaf showed lines that Tomás recognized as ant trails.
I watched the ants. They have paths. Always the same paths. Up the tree, down the tree, to the grass, back. They carry things. Small leaves. Dead bugs. I followed one path. It goes to a hole in the ground. Near the big rock.
Tomás looked at his drawing.
You found their nest. That's where they live. The paths are like roads for them. They use them every day.
Li Wei nodded seriously.
Ants are very busy.
Yes. Ants are always working. That's how they survive.
Little Feng had nothing to show, but he pointed to the Shenmu.
Big. Still big.
Tomás laughed.
Yes, Feng. Still big. Good observation.
3
Xiao Wang was last. He stood proudly and told his story about the bird and the tree.
When he finished, the other children looked at him with admiration. He had found something special. A bird building a home. A connection between a tree and an animal.
Tomás used the moment to teach.
What Wang found is very important. He saw a relationship. The bird needs the tree for safety. The tree might need the bird for protection from insects, or for fertilizer. They are connected. In science, we call this an ecosystem. Everything is connected to everything else.
The children repeated the new word: "E-co-sys-tem."
In an ecosystem, if you change one thing, you change everything. If the tree dies, the bird loses its home. If the bird dies, maybe more insects eat the tree's leaves. Everything matters.
Wei Chen had arrived quietly and was listening from a few steps away. He spoke:
In the old stories, they say the same thing. The ten thousand things are connected. If you pull one thread, the whole web moves.
Tomás looked at him, surprised and pleased.
Yes. Exactly. The old stories knew. They just didn't have the word "ecosystem."
Wei Chen smiled and sat down with the children.
Today, I am a student too. Teach us more.
4
Tomás thought for a moment. Then he had an idea.
Okay. Let's do an exercise. Let's look at this Shenmu. And let's try to name all the things that are connected to it.
The children looked at the giant tree, thinking.
Wang spoke first:
Birds. Like my bird. Maybe it comes here too sometimes.
Good. Birds.
Mei:
Insects. Ants. Beetles. Spiders.
Good. Insects.
Li Wei:
Small plants. Under it. They are connected because the tree gives shade.
Excellent. Other plants.
Little Feng pointed to the ground.
Dirt.
Tomás smiled.
Yes. Soil. The tree needs soil. The soil gets leaves from the tree. They are connected.
Wei Chen added:
People. The village. The tree is sacred to us. We leave offerings. We sit under it. We are connected too.
Tomás nodded.
Yes. People are part of the ecosystem too. We are not separate from nature. We are inside it.
He looked at the list they had made: birds, insects, other plants, soil, people. And that was just what they could see. There were probably hundreds more connections underground, in the air, invisible.
This is what scientists do - he said - They look at one thing, and they try to see everything connected to it. It's like... like looking at a single thread in a big blanket. If you follow it, you find all the other threads.
The children nodded, understanding.
5
That afternoon, Tomás walked with Wei Chen to check the líng cǎo experiment.
The plants were doing... something. The original transplanted plant still had faint dots. The new plants were different.
Pot B (forest soil, shade, alone) looked best. The dots were brighter than the original. Not as bright as the forest patch, but close.
Pot A (village soil, sun, together) was in the middle. The dots were visible but not strong. The two plants seemed to be doing okay, but not great.
Tomás wrote everything in his notebook.
So - Wei Chen said - What does it mean?
Tomás considered.
It means light matters. The plants in shade have brighter dots. It means company might matter too, but less than light. The ones together are better than the original alone, but not as good as the shaded one.
He looked at the forest in the distance.
I think the líng cǎo is a shade plant. It needs protection from direct sun. The forest gives that. The village, with all the open space, is too bright.
Wei Chen nodded slowly.
So if we want to grow it here, we need to give it shade.
Yes. Or find a place that is already shady. Near the Shenmu, maybe. Or near the big trees by the stream.
Wei Chen looked at him.
You want to grow líng cǎo? Here? In the village?
Tomás shrugged.
Why not? If it can grow here, we would have our own source. For medicine, maybe. For study. For the children to learn from.
Wei Chen was quiet for a moment. Then he said:
No one in the village has ever grown a líng plant. They only find them in the wild. If you could do it... that would be... very big.
Tomás smiled.
One step at a time. First, we learn what it needs. Then we try to give it those things.
6
That evening, by the fire, Tomás wrote in his notebook.
He wrote about Wang's bird and the tree. About Mei's plants and their distance from the Shenmu. About Li Wei's ants and their paths. About little Feng, who still thought the Shenmu was big.
He wrote about the líng cǎo experiment and the new hypothesis: shade matters most.
He wrote about Wei Chen's words: "No one has ever grown a líng plant."
Then he wrote:
I am starting to see the shape of this world. It is not so different from mine. The same connections, the same relationships. Only the names change. Líng instead of nutrients. Spiritual beasts instead of keystone species. Sacred trees instead of ancient forests.
But underneath, it is the same. Ecosystems. Connections. Symbiosis.
The children are learning to see. Wang with his bird. Mei with her plants. Li Wei with his ants. They are becoming scientists, even if they don't know the word.
And I am learning too. Learning that this world can be understood. That líng is not magic. It is just another resource. Another thread in the blanket.
Un día a la vez.
He closed the notebook and looked at the fire.
Somewhere in the dark, a bird slept in its tree. Ants followed their paths. Small plants grew under the Shenmu.
And in three clay pots, three small plants waited, their golden dots holding steady or fading, depending on the light and the company and a hundred other things Tomás was only beginning to understand.
He smiled.
Suficiente por hoy. Enough for today.