Re-cultivate

Newt Scamander explained to Tom, "The cubs hide in their nests deep in the canyon, where adult Thunderbird take turns guarding them, and they rarely come out to move around."

Tom feigned composure and looked away, asking seriously, "So when shall we go see Little Thunderbird?"

"No rush." Newt Scamander waved his hand. "Tom, don't be impulsive. We can't go straight to Thunderbird now; we need permission first."

"Who gave you permission? And there are Auror patrolling here?" Tom raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"It's not Auror, you'll see when you come with me." Newt Scamander didn't explain further, and turned the broom at a 45-degree angle.

It flew off in another direction, and Tom had no choice but to reluctantly follow.

Not far from the canyon, a cluster of thatched huts appeared on a plain, looking like a village.

The closer the two flew, the more alert the people inside the house became, pointing to the sky and making strange shouts.

Each of them held a spear, wore feather headdresses, and had their faces painted with colorful greasepaint.

"Indigenous people?" Tom recognized them at a glance; they were the ones Christopher Columbus discovered when he found the New World.

Mistaking the the Americas for India and arbitrarily naming the people there "Indians" is a highly discriminatory term.

In fact, long before Christopher Columbus, wizards had discovered the Americas and even had dealings with wizards there.

They were always respectfully referred to as the indigenous people, and this term only became fixed after more immigrants arrived.

"Don't say anything for a while, leave everything to me," Newt Scamander gestured for Tom to follow him down, and then gave him a special instruction.

"They are all good people, just very cautious. I'm making this clear to you beforehand, so you don't do anything rash in a moment of impulse."

Tom gave Newt Scamander a reassuring look and made a zipping motion with his hand near his mouth, meaning he wouldn't say anything out of line.

The entire tribe was surrounded by a fence, with watchtowers at the four corners.

As soon as the two landed outside the railing, several burly soldiers raised their spears, their eyes fierce, ready to throw them at any moment.

Tom completely disregarded the hostility, leaving it entirely to Newt Scamander to handle, while he himself observed the female warriors of the tribe with great interest.

His face is really nothing to write home about, but his physique is truly eye-catching; his bronze skin is coated with oil, and his muscle lines are clearly visible.

With her curvaceous figure, she's way more alluring than those delicate witches in Britain.

Newt Scamander breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Tom didn't get angry, and mumbled a string of strange words into the tribe.

Soon, several elderly people with canes came out of the village, and they clearly recognized Newt Scamander.

He shouted a few words to his people behind him, and the warriors immediately put down their spears and bows, their eyes changing from wary to respectful as they looked at Newt Scamander.

Newt Scamander smiled and stepped forward, hugging the oldest man. The two then exchanged a few words in hushed tones.

The old people's gazes would occasionally fall on Tom, then on Newt Scamander, and finally they would all nod.

After a while, a woman came over carrying two flower wreaths and handed them to Newt Scamander.

Newt Scamander spoke a few more words to the old man before returning to Tom's side with the wreath.

"All done?" Tom asked.

"Hmm, put this on." Newt Scamander put the wreath on himself first, then handed another one to Tom.

Tom obediently put on the broom, and the two of them got back on their brooms. The villagers also went back to their houses.

Although he could roughly guess what had happened, Tom still couldn't help but ask, "Tell me, what exactly happened?"

Newt Scamander didn't hide anything and explained in detail, "In addition to Fantastic Beasts, there are also three indigenous tribes in this reserve."

"They all worship the Thunderbird as a totem. When I brought Frank back, they mistook me for a poacher and almost got into a fight."

"Luckily, I have a good temper. Even after being arrested, I patiently explained myself. Plus, Frank kept being affectionate with me, so they realized it was a misunderstanding."

"Later, when the protected area was established, it was through my mediation that the Magical Congress was prevented from relocating them. We also put them in charge of protecting the Thunderbird, and they received a considerable amount of supplies from the Congress every year."

He paused, then added, "These tribes have shamans, their sorcerers, who are quite formidable in combat and often catch poachers of Thunderbird."

"Those poachers won't be handed over to the Magical Congress; they'll all be used as sacrifices."

"Bringing you here this time requires going through procedures and getting their permission; otherwise, we won't be able to get close to the Thunderbird at all."

"This wreath serves as our pass; the warriors guarding the Thunderbird area won't attack us once they see it."

Tom rolled his eyes after hearing this. "Even the natives are so concerned with social niceties, can't they be a little simpler?"

"Stop complaining." Newt Scamander chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "This wreath will do you good too; the Thunderbird will be friendlier to you when it sees it."

Tom's eyes lit up, and he instantly stopped complaining. "Having connections is great! But if you don't use them, they'll expire!"

An hour later, the two flew to the middle of a mountain and landed slowly.

Newt Scamander explained, "You can't fly directly to the Thunderbird from the air; that would be considered trespassing. You have to walk up from here."

At this moment, Newt Scamander made no mention of his "old age and inability to handle stimulation," and his legs and feet were even more nimble than Tom's.

Although Tom is physically fit, his short legs are a problem; he's only a little over 1.6 meters tall. For every two steps Newt Scamander, Tom has to take three.

I had to shuffle around with small, quick steps to keep up with the old man's pace, and I thought to myself: So your old habit only kicks in when you're on a plane?

Not long after we started walking, as we approached the summit, dark clouds suddenly swept over the entire mountain, and the sky instantly darkened.

"Eh--!"

A loud cry pierced the sky, and a Thunderbird, larger than an ordinary Thunderbird, swooped down toward the two of them.

Seeing the familiar smile on Newt Scamander's face, Tom immediately guessed the bird's identity; it must be Frank.

Sure enough, the Thunderbird landed steadily in front of Newt Scamander, its proud head lowered so that the old man could stroke its crest.

After a brief, affectionate exchange between the man and the bird, Newt Scamander gestured for Tom to come closer. "Come here, you can't touch it now, but it's okay to get close."

Tom walked over slowly. Frank glanced at him warily, but seeing that he was wearing a flower wreath and then looked at Newt Scamander, he didn't react.

Not long after, Frank flapped his wings and flew away, while Newt Scamander and Tom continued climbing to the top of the mountain.

"Don't rush to find the chicks. Your task for the next few days is to build a good relationship with the Thunderbird. Only after they accept you can you approach the baby Thunderbird."

Tom nodded; he had plenty of time and wasn't in a hurry to succeed.

Five Thunderbird lived on the mountaintop: Frank, his two wives, and two slightly larger Thunderbird.

Tom's target is the two baby birds that Newt Scamander mentioned, which were born last year and are now just a year old.

Frank is the king of the Thunderbird in the entire reserve; once you win him over, getting close to the other Thunderbird will be a piece of cake.