Chapter 14: The Future of Guano
The earliest agricultural civilizations arose along rivers, which is why legends of great floods are found all over the world. China has the fury of Mount Buzhou and the story of Gun and Yu controlling the waters; the Semites have Noah's Ark; the Sumerians have the flood in the Epic of Gilgamesh.
But these raging waters also gave birth to agriculture on soft, fertile floodplains—land that was easily worked. In the deltas where rivers met the sea, seeds sown in the soil after the annual floods could grow into bountiful crops in the rich silt, all without the need for fertilizer.
Everything has its advantages and disadvantages; the key is choice. People on the desert grasslands never had to worry about floods, but they also could not rise to the pinnacle of civilization.
Leaving the cave and building a village was the first step for Chen Jian to lead his people toward truly conquering nature. The outcome of this expedition would determine their every future step.
As they poled their way forward, the narrow river gradually widened, and the tribespeople learned to use both poles and wooden paddles. Their downstream speed was fast, and Langpi felt he couldn't take everything in at once; he had never imagined he could see both banks from the middle of the river.
It was completely different from walking through the forest. There were no annoying nettles or thorn bushes to scratch their skin, and no need to worry about snakes suddenly striking from the grass. One of Langpi's sisters had been bitten and killed by a venomous snake.
They didn't need to paddle hard; the current carried them swiftly to the place where they had hunted the deer herd. This was the fork where the small river joined a much larger one. The three birch-bark boats arrived just as the sun was setting over the hills.
The great river was nearly 200 meters wide, its banks lined with lush, tall grass. In the fading light, the faint shapes of animals could be seen running.
A flock of sheep was drinking by the river. They watched the boats float by with curiosity before fleeing in a hurry.
The water here was deep, but the surface was calm. The slanting light of the setting sun stretched across the water, its reflection broken only by the occasional leap of a fish or the flight of an osprey.
As dusk deepened, the air over the water grew heavy with moisture.
"Jian, should we light a fire on the shore?" Langpi asked.
Chen Jian shook his head. Standing at the bow, he peered into the distance, where the shape of an island was visible in the middle of the river. Traveling at night was dangerous, but camping in an unfamiliar place was also unwise.
"There!" he commanded, pointing to the island.
The three boats paddled toward its shore. The fine sand was soft underfoot. Snails had washed up on the beach, and a few water birds were pecking at them.
Taking out a piece of charcoal, Chen Jian sketched the river's course on a piece of birch bark. He named the small river flowing from their cave the Tao River, to commemorate the first pottery they had made by its banks. The Tao River flowed for about seventy or eighty miles before joining the great river. The island in the center of the river was more than ten miles downstream from the fork.
The water of the great river was emerald green, but since the tribe had never seen jade, he named it the Caohe, or Grass River. And because of the snails on its beach, the island became Luodao, or Snail Island.
In the middle of Luodao rose a tall, rocky hill. There were few trees, as the annual flood season prevented them from growing in the low-lying areas. The rocky hill, however, was teeming with birds. It appeared white from a distance, and since no one had ever disturbed them and there were no predators on the island, they thrived.
Wolves and tigers could swim, but they generally wouldn't bother to travel so far for a small snack. The civet cat, which posed the greatest threat to the birds, was afraid of water, making the island a paradise for them.
Langpi held up his bow and arrow and shouted, "Time to eat!"
Everyone laughed. Chen Jian sent Langpi and another cousin to hunt birds while the rest gathered dead branches that had washed ashore from upstream and worked together to start a fire.
After a short while, Langpi returned with several birds, singing happily. The birds here were unwary and unafraid of people, making them easy prey.
Looking at the birds, Chen Jian was also very happy, but not because of the food. In his view, birds that couldn't be domesticated were of little use. No, the true value of so many birds was something else entirely: guano!
While the women prepared the birds over the fire, Chen Jian asked Langpi to go with him to inspect the hill. The island was not very wide, but it was long and narrow. The hill, which they now called Luoshan, was about 200 meters high by his estimation. The setting sun still illuminated its peak, but its base was already cloaked in shadow.
As they neared the side of the hill, they found exactly what he expected: a thick layer of bird droppings covering the ground. It had mixed with the soil and hardened into solid lumps. Birds have short digestive tracts, and the nutrients from their food become concentrated in their feces. Accumulated over thousands of years, these deposits can harden like stone.
This was an excellent natural fertilizer. Looking at the thickness of the guano deposit, Chen Jian knew it was sufficient.
He knocked off a piece with a stone and put it in a fiber bag, much to Langpi's confusion. Chen Jian looked up at the steep slope of Luoshan. The hill stretched for two or three miles, causing the Caohe to split and flow around it before rejoining downstream. He picked up a piece of gravel and threw it hard against a steep rock face. The loud echo startled countless hidden birds, which erupted into an overwhelming cacophony of shrieks.
"Let's go," Chen Jian said, satisfied with his discovery.
He returned to the riverside camp, tucked the sample of hardened guano into his pouch, and nodded to himself.
After they had eaten, Langpi stared at Chen Jian and asked, "Jian, what were you looking for? Was it just that stone?"
Chen Jian closed his eyes and said slowly, "I'm looking for a kind of grass that bears grain. With the fertilizer from an island this size, we can grow enough to feed the tribe for a year."
Langpi shook his head in disbelief; he couldn't imagine any grass that could bear so much food.
The others gathered around, and as they listened, Chen Jian painted a picture of a fantastic future. He told them they wouldn't have to live in a cave forever. Instead, they would live by the river, surrounded by fields of this special plant that would fill their bellies. There would be flocks of fat, flightless birds squawking nearby, laying their eggs in the same place every day...
Everyone stared into the fire, their faces flushed with excitement as they envisioned this incredible life. They were intoxicated by his words.
"Can we really live like that?" It was the question on all nine of their minds as they eagerly awaited the next day.
That night, they took turns standing watch. They moved the bonfire to the side and spread their animal skins on the sand, which was still warm from the flames, so they wouldn't be cold.
Pillowing his head on his hands, Chen Jian gazed up at the unfamiliar stars, wondering what kind of crops this strange yet familiar world would one day provide for his tribe.
Early the next morning, Chen Jian led his people to the downstream end of Luodao, carrying the birch-bark boats on their shoulders. The river channel here was narrow and the current was swift, and he didn't want to risk any accidents.
They continued down the river, and by noon, the terrain had flattened into a wide plain. The muddy ground, enriched by past floods, was covered with a variety of grasses.
Langpi, who was paddling, suddenly pointed to a distant mountain. "I've been there!" he exclaimed. "That's where the tribes gather in the spring!"
Following Langpi's finger, Chen Jian saw a very high mountain. Its slopes were covered with trees halfway up, but its peak was a sheer stone wall where a few tenacious pine trees grew, making it extremely eye-catching.
No wonder Langpi recognized it at a glance; the mountain was truly distinctive.
"Let's go ashore!" someone shouted. "Grandmother said there's a salty stone there that you can lick. Is that the place?"
"Yes, it's on the other side of the mountain," Langpi replied, a grin spreading across his face. "I was with some women from another tribe under that pine tree on the summit last year..." He chuckled, happily lost in the memory as he steered his boat toward the bank.
The mountain looked deceptively close; a saying came to mind about how such sights can run a horse to death. It would take a full day to walk there. Chen Jian turned his attention back to the plains around them. He took out his bone plow and dug into the soil near the bank.
Beneath the grass was rich silt, a clear sign that the river often flooded its banks. This was a true plain, completely different from their homeland hundreds of miles away. Their tribe's valley was nestled in the remnants of a mountain range, but this land was flat as far as the eye could see.
He knelt by the river, faced the mountain, and prayed. "I hope I can find plants worth cultivating. Ancestors, bless us..." There were no gods in this world yet, and he didn't believe in them anyway. With his yellow skin and black eyes, he naturally prayed to his ancestors—those from this life, and from the one before.
He stood up. The boats were dragged ashore and secured. Two men carried jars of maple syrup and mutton fat, while another carried a large bag of dried fish. Armed with bone plows and stone spears, the ten of them set out through the chest-high grass.
The plains were teeming with animals, but no tribes lived here. For people who didn't know how to build houses, the open grassland was far too exposed and unsafe.
This was truly wild, unconquered land, its fertility evident in the height of the grass.
They picked some mint and mugwort, crushing the leaves and rubbing them on their skin. The nasty, terrifying mosquitoes hated the smell and kept their distance. They used their stone spears to carefully part the grass ahead of them, scaring away any sunbathing snakes, and occasionally shot a few birds that they startled.
Gradually, undulating hills began to appear before them. After digging into the ground with a bone plow, Chen Jian found the soil was no longer muddy silt. This area was high enough that even if the river flooded, it wouldn't be submerged. Several streams, each about a person's width, meandered around the base of the hills.
On a distant hill, a patch of tall plants was growing. They had slender stalks and long, strip-shaped leaves.
They had no gorgeous petals, no sweet fragrance, but Chen Jian threw down his stone spear and ran toward them.
It was late spring, early summer, and the plants were growing vigorously but had not yet gone to seed. Even so, Chen Jian recognized them at a glance. He broke off a stalk and chewed on it; it was sweet but still immature. He dug into the earth with his hands, exposing the dense root system beneath. He broke off a piece of root and tasted it—it was intensely bitter.
"Sorghum, this has to be sorghum!" Chen Jian spat out the bitter root. He examined the stems, the leaves, and the protruding spikelets, certain he was right.
This was a wild, undomesticated variety. It grew extremely tall and gathered in thick clusters. Its dense roots gripped the earth, a picture of unyielding strength; its straight, tall stalks inspired confidence. Only when it bore grain would it lower its proud head, as if in blushing shyness.
Looking closer, he saw there wasn't just a small patch—there was a great deal of wild sorghum here. Because it grew so tall and had such a deep root system, it dominated the area, suppressing the weeds beneath it.
Langpi, who had followed him, looked at the unattractive grass with a heart full of doubt.
"This is the thing that will make it so the tribe no longer needs to hunt?" he asked.
Chen Jian raised his head to explain but was cut off by a loud shout from behind them.
"Smoke! There's smoke!"
They both spun around, looking in surprise at a spot a few miles away.
A thin column of smoke was rising straight into the sky, starkly visible against the open grassland.
"People! There are other people here!"