Pico the Parrot and the Whispering Well

Chapter 1: Wise People Listen More Than Speak

In a lively jungle called Tangle Grove, there lived a young parrot named Pico. Pico had bright green feathers, a loud, cheerful voice, and an opinion about everything.

"Did you know the best fruit is mango? Actually, it's papaya. No, wait, it's mango. I once ate seventeen in one day! Or was it twelve? Anyway, you should try it!"

Pico talked at breakfast. He talked at lunch. He talked so fast that his friends could barely squeeze in a word. He thought this made him the most interesting parrot in the jungle.

But a funny thing kept happening. Pico always seemed to be the last to know things.

When Tango the monkey whispered that the river path was flooded, Pico was busy telling a story, and he marched straight into the mud. When Lola the tortoise mentioned that the Fruit Festival had moved to Tuesday, Pico was already chattering about something else, and he showed up on Monday to an empty field. When his friend Zuri the zebra tried to tell him she felt sad about moving away, Pico interrupted with a long tale about his cousin's trip to the coast.

Zuri trailed off. "Never mind," she said softly, and walked away.

That night, Pico sat alone in his tree. "Why does everyone keep missing the good parts?" he sighed. "I have so much to say!"

"Perhaps," said a deep, slow voice from below, "you are the one missing the good parts."

It was Old Baba, an elephant with wrinkled gray skin and kind, sleepy eyes. He had lived in Tangle Grove longer than anyone, and he rarely said much at all.

Pico fluttered down. "What do you mean?"