In a fast-developing country like China, it is difficult to find a place where human beings can still live with other forms of life in true harmony.

But hidden in the rolling mountains of western Sichuan Province, such a place exists. On Mount Pamuling, "birds jump onto your palm to eat," a popular saying of locals goes.

About 24 kilometers east of Yajiang County in Ganzi Tibet Prefecture, Pamuling is connected with State Highway 318 by a narrow dirt road.

Turning onto the dusty track only one car wide, you get a sense that you are on your way to somewhere special.

As the road climbs higher, you start to see a different kind of vegetation deciduous forests of elm, birch and oak, primitive coniferous forests of fir, pine and spruce, and finally dense rhododendron shrubbery.

Towering trees with trunks covered by thick lichen and too wide to fit your arms around are everywhere.

Rhododendron shrubs taller that small trees dot the scene, their flowers white, yellow and pink are in full bloom.

Along the road, song-birds sitting on the branches of trees provide the chorus line for nature's symphony while chubby squirrels dart from tree to tree and pheasants cross the road.

At the end of the 11-kilometre ascent is a large alpine meadow. At 3,988 meters above sea level, the top of Mount Pamuling resembles a vast bed of flowers.

At the summit, you overlook deep gullies and rolling mountains bathed in cloud.

And at the meadow's centre sits Pamuling Monastery.

With a two-storey assembly hall, a pair of chapels and several buildings acting as living quarters, the lamasery can hardly be considered big, compared to some monasteries found in Tibetan regions.

But this is partly the reason why the mountain has remained so pristine, Gongbu, a monk, told China Daily, while standing on the meadow tinged by the setting sun.

"Pamuling is one of the most famous sacred mountains in Tibetan regions," he said. "Our monastery has been its protector for 900 years."

According to the 31-year-old monk, who has practised Buddhism on the mountain for 20 years, the monastery, built by a master of the Kagyupa Order and once home to hundreds of monks, is one of the most important monasteries in Ganzi Tibet Prefecture.

It was destroyed during the "cultural revolution" (1966-76), but restored 24 years ago. At present, it houses over 40 Tibetan monks.

The forests, however, have been spared the ravages of man, he said, but they were once damaged slightly by fire.

"Because most of the people living around the mountain are Tibetans like us," said Gongbu, "they are all pious followers of Buddhism, and would feel guilty spoiling anything on such a holy mountain as Pamuling."

The monk is from a family of such Tibetans living at the foot of the mountain.

So as forests on nearby mountains have dwindled over the years, those on Pamuling have thrived.

"The woods are the last sanctuary of many kinds of wildlife in the area," he said. "That's why animals are everywhere."

He did not reveal why they were not afraid of humans, but said he would demonstrate it the next morning.

Wildlife's breakfast

At 6 am, the birdcalls are loud enough to wake anyone from the deepest sleep.

In the meadow at the front of the monastery, hares were busy feeding, squirrels were running around, and a pair of white-naped Durian jackdaws paced slowly.

At 7 am, Gongbu and another two monks appeared in the meadow behind the temple, each with a bag of seeds of highland barley.

One of them began to call, "lo...lololo..."

Not long after, a pair of blood pheasants stepped out of shrubbery near the meadow. The beautiful birds, their plumage splashed with red, green and white, wandered towards the monks.

Then came a family of three chestnut-throated partridges. The species, under first-level State protection, is only found in western Sichuan with sightings extremely rare.

Near the walls of Pamuling Monastery, however, they were eating together with not only the pair of blood pheasants, but also a cock and two hens, after the monks scattered the highland barley seeds.

Jumping through the meadow like a big frog, a brown great laughing thrush soon joined the party.

All of them were within two or three meters of the smiling monks.

With full bellies, the birds returned to the bushes around 8 am.

Gongbu and three other monks then set off on the kora, or pilgrim path, of the monastery.

The Pamuling kora climbs up to 4,100 meters where a holy cave is found in a rock formation to the east of the meadow. The walk takes about one and a half hours at a leisurely pace.

The path passes several altars adorned with prayer flags and mani stones carved with sutras, and dense woods trimmed by prayer flags. Along the way, you see the morning sunshine working its magic on the milky mist floating in the valleys.

The monks also stopped from time to time to feed more animals.

Squirrels and small song-birds like rose finches came out to feed on the seeds.

They are so unafraid of the monks, Gongbu said, that "sometimes they jump onto your palm for the highland barley."

"But we must be patient and stay quiet."

According to the monks, it is a tradition to feed the animals living on the mountain, especially in winter.

"This is also one of the ways we educate local people," said Gongbu. "Now it has become a habit of many locals to give us a handful of seeds of highland barley to feed the animals, when coming here on a pilgrimage."

Local habit

The monks believe that traditional culture is essential to environmental protection on the sacred mountain. But they also worry about its erosion in today's fast-changing society, as "many people living in the area can't speak either Tibetan or Mandarin, but a mixed language."

The good news is that the local government has planned to turn the holy site into a mini nature reserve and the monks into authorized managers of the reserve in the future.

At 9 am, Gongbu and his fellow monks climb into the cave. In it is a monk who has been practicing Buddhism alone for nearly a year, just as the builders of the monastery did.

Near the cave, there is another holy site, a crevice between two rocks leaning on each other. About two meters high and 20 centimeters wide at its narrowest part, it is barely large enough for an adult to squeeze through sideways.

"It is said that those people with sins can't make it," said Gongbu.

But Gongbu and his companions must have been guilt free as they slid through without any trouble whatsoever.

(China Daily July 14, 2005)