Pinion looked over at the parakeet cage. There were maybe twenty or thirty of the small green birds, and most of the flamingos usually got to chat with a small group of them whenever they got bored or felt like a bit of conversation with somebody from outside of the flock. Pinion wasn't so lucky - the parakeets usually flew away as soon as it got close.

Still, that was no reason for it not to try again, especially since it had a specific reason for wanting to talk. It walked over, skirting the lake as it rehearsed its opening line in its head. By the time it was within speaking distance it knew how it wanted to start the conversation.

What would you like Pinion to say?