Every morning, Marco the parrot woke up and talked.
And talked.
And talked and talked and talked.
He knew everyone’s name. Everyone’s business. Everyone’s breakfast.
“Good morning! Nice mango! Watch out for the snake on the third branch! Your feathers look wonderful today! Mine too, thank you!”
The jungle ran on Marco’s words the way a clock runs on ticking.
Until Tuesday morning, when Marco opened his beak.
And nothing came out.
Nothing at all.
Not even a squeak. 🦜
🌿 The Problem with Silence
Marco tried again.
Beak open. Nothing.
He flapped to the monkey’s tree. He needed to tell the monkey that the good bananas were on the south side today.
He opened his beak.
Nothing.
The monkey stared at him.
Marco pointed with his wing.
South.
The monkey stared some more.
Marco flapped his wings like a banana.
The monkey looked extremely confused.
“Are you having some kind of episode?” said the monkey.
Marco threw his wings up in despair.
🦜 The Great Mime Tour
Marco spent the whole morning miming.
He mimed watch out for the snake to a family of frogs.
They thought he was doing a dance and joined in. The snake left, confused.
He mimed the river is rising to the tapir.
The tapir thought he wanted to race and trotted happily away.
He mimed I am very distressed to a toucan.
The toucan said “lovely to see you too” and flew off.
This, Marco felt, was a catastrophe.
But also, now that he thought about it —
The jungle was fine.
Everything was actually fine without his words.
Which was annoying.
💛 Jack Finds His Words
Jack was walking the jungle path when Marco landed on a branch in front and stared with enormous intensity.
Marco pointed at his throat.
Pointed at the sky.
Did a small flapping thing.
Then sat very still and looked hopeful.
“Have you lost your voice?” said Jack.
Marco nodded so hard he nearly fell off the branch.
Jack held out a hand.
Marco stepped onto it.
Jack carried him to the river and gave him water from a cupped palm.
Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.
Marco took a breath.
Opened his beak.
“GOOD MORNING! THANK YOU! THE BANANAS ARE ON THE SOUTH SIDE! YOUR FACE IS VERY KIND! MINE IS ALSO GOOD! WHAT A WONDERFUL DAY!”
Every bird in the jungle lifted off in alarm.
Marco ruffled his feathers with satisfaction.
He was back.
The jungle could breathe again.
Or wished it could, quietly, for just a little longer. 🦜