Winter dawn, and mist on the marsh. Up in the date palms the sap-pots were filling, drip by drip — and down by the water, somebody was talking. Tortoise. Tortoise never stopped. The fish dived. The frogs gave up. Only two ducks — guests from a far country — tucked their wings and listened. “And then what happened?” they'd say. “Tell us the rest!”
But winter ends, and guest birds go. “Come with us, friend!” said the ducks. “Come to our lake in the hills — the water's as clear as glass!” Tortoise's heart gave a thump. “But I can't fly,” he said, very small. “I can't even walk fast.” The two ducks looked at each other. And slowly, both of them began to grin. They had an idea.
The idea was a stick. “We'll hold the two ends in our bills,” said the ducks, “and you bite hard onto the middle. But listen, friend — up in the sky, you keep that mouth SHUT. Not one word!” “Me?” laughed Tortoise. “Staying quiet is the easiest thing in the world!” And he bit down on the stick — clack.
Whoosh went the wings, and up they went! Below him the mustard fields rolled out like a yellow quilt, the river turned to a silver ribbon, whole villages shrank to toys. Words fizzed up inside Tortoise like bubbles — oh, how he wanted to say it! He swallowed them down, every one, and held on tight. Not one word. Not one word.
They flew low over a village, where children were flying kites. “Look! LOOK!” the children shouted, pointing. “Two ducks carrying a tortoise on a stick! Ha-ha! Silly old tortoise!” Silly? SILLY? Tortoise's ears burned. His chest went tight — and the words burst out: “I am NOT sil—” The stick was gone. He was falling.
THUMP — into the soft mud by the village pond. Alive! But — crack. Across his smooth shell ran thin broken lines, like a clay pot dropped on the floor. The ducks came spiralling down. “Friend! Are you hurt?” Tortoise opened his mouth to answer… and then, gently, he closed it again. For the first time in his life, Tortoise said nothing at all.
Tortoise stayed by that little pond, and when winter came round again, his two ducks came back to him. Moonlight glinted on the cracked lines of his shell. “Do they still hurt?” asked one duck softly. Tortoise smiled. “Let them stay,” he said. “They remind me: talking is a fine thing — but knowing when to hush is finer.”