In 2021, Chinese media began reporting on a mysterious child prodigy from a remote mountain village in Hunan: 12-year-old Wu Yongtao. Villagers claimed Wu possessed an extraordinary gift — he could understand the language of birds, call them down from the sky, and even guide their movements, just like the legendary “King of Birds” from ancient tales.
A mysterious bond
According to village elders, strange omens marked Wu’s birth. On the day he was born, the sky grew dark, fierce winds swept through the valley, and thousands of birds wheeled above his family’s home. The flock lingered for a long time, filling the air with the sound of their wings and cries, shocking the village residents. Many elders knelt in prayer, calling it “a hundred birds greeting the phoenix,” and hailed Wu’s birth as “a spirit of wonder descending.” But this mythical beginning was just the start.
As Wu grew older, the bond between boy and bird became evident. When reporters eventually trekked into the village, they found Wu sitting on the edge of a terraced field. Two brightly feathered birds perched calmly on his shoulders, as if they belonged there. As the journalists drew near, the birds cried out sharply toward Wu. He imitated their sounds in a soft voice, and the birds responded by nodding as if they understood what he said. Wu calmly expressed: “I don’t know what I’m saying, I just know what they want.”
According to Wu, he first discovered the two birds as tiny, helpless chicks beneath a tree when he was just 5 years old. He spent the entire day watching over them, hoping their parents would return, calling out softly, and keeping them safe from harm. When it became clear that the birds had been abandoned, he took them home and fed them by hand.
Years have passed since then. Though the birds can fly on their own, they have never left Wu’s side, perching on his shoulders and staying close whenever he is near. Over time, the boy and the birds have developed a bond that defies description — a quiet, unspoken connection that seems to transcend both words and species.
Experts’ tests backfire
After local media reported on Wu’s unusual talent, the story drew the attention of a group of experts. Many were skeptical, suggesting it might be a coincidence, learned behavior, or even psychological suggestion. To test the claims, they organized a formal “human-bird communication experiment.”
A senior bird trainer was invited to participate. He faced an untrained mountain bird in a one-on-one trial, demonstrating the full range of his skills — gestures, calls, and coaxing techniques honed over years of experience. Yet the bird remained indifferent, hopping away and eventually flying off, ignoring every attempt to engage it.
Then it was Wu’s turn. He stood still for a few seconds, eyes fixed on the bird, before uttering a soft, lilting call. What happened next stunned everyone present: The bird immediately flew to Wu’s shoulder — and refused to leave.
A living echo of legend
Wu Yongtao’s story blurs the line between history and myth. From the omens said to have marked his birth to the sight of wild birds resting on his shoulders, he embodies the age-old belief that certain people possess a rare ability to connect with the natural world.
Stories like Wu’s fit into a long history of tales about special individuals who bridge the worlds of human and animal. In Chinese literature, Pu Songling’s The Bird Language and other classical tales treat such powers as both moral allegory and supernatural abilities, depicting monks or hermits who can understand birds’ speech and act on the wisdom they receive. These stories often carried lessons about compassion, vigilance, and the subtle ways nature communicates with those willing to listen.
Ancient texts also recount monks who understood the calls of sparrows or cranes, using their warnings to protect villages from disaster. In legend, King Yu the Great, renowned for taming the great floods, was said to interpret the cries of birds as divine guidance, enabling him to manage rivers and safeguard the people. Beyond China, traditions in the Middle East recount the story of King Solomon communicating with birds, who acted as his messengers and advisers, reinforcing the idea that the natural world can convey knowledge to those with the ability to be attuned to it.
Even in European folklore, tales of bird-speaking humans abound, from medieval stories of wise hermits conversing with swans to Renaissance accounts of oracles who interpreted birdsong to foretell events. Across cultures and centuries, such tales reveal a universal fascination — a longing to understand the secret language of nature and the knowledge it holds.
Perhaps science will one day explain Wu’s bond, or maybe it belongs to the realm of wonder, where mystery is meant to remain. Either way, in a remote Hunan village, a boy calls softly, and the birds answer. In that call, we hear an ancient truth echoing through time: To listen closely to the natural world is to glimpse the language of the heavens.
Translated by Joseph Wu and edited by Tatiana Denning
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