A story
Pango the Little Pangolin Rolls Into a Ball at Every New Sound
At the edge of a warm green forest, where the grass met the tall trees, there lived a little pangolin named Pango. He was covered from nose to tail in smooth brown scales that overlapped like the tiles on a roof. He had a long pointy nose, tiny bright eyes, and a long sticky tongue that was perfect for finding ants.
Pango had one very special trick. Whenever he felt surprised, he curled up tight into a round, scaly ball. Snap! Just like that. His nose tucked in. His tail wrapped around. And there he stayed, safe and snug, until he felt brave enough to peek out again.
The trouble was that Pango felt surprised by almost everything.
When a leaf crackled under his foot, he rolled into a ball. When a frog said "Rrribbit," he rolled into a ball. When the wind whooshed through the trees, he rolled into a ball. Once, he even rolled into a ball because of his own sneeze.
"Achoo!" Snap!
His mother laughed softly and patted his scales. "Pango, my little pinecone," she said, "your ball is a wonderful trick. But you do not need it every time. Most sounds are only the forest saying hello."
Pango wanted to believe her. But the forest was so full of sounds.
One sunny morning, his mother said, "Today you may go to the big termite hill by the river all by yourself. Follow the path of red stones. Eat your breakfast, and come straight home when the sun is high."
Pango's heart went thump, thump. All by himself! He felt proud and wobbly at the same time.
He set off along the path of red stones. The morning was bright and warm. Butterflies floated over the flowers like little yellow kites. The ground smelled of earth and sunshine.
Then, from a branch above him, came a loud, strange sound.
"Ka-ka-ka-KAAA!"
Snap! Pango rolled into a ball.
He waited. His heart thumped. Nothing happened. After a long while, he uncurled one tiny eye and peeked out.
On the branch sat a big black-and-white bird with an enormous curved yellow beak. The bird tilted its head and looked down at him.
"Good morning!" said the bird cheerfully. "I'm Kobo the hornbill. Why are you a ball?"
"Your voice surprised me," Pango whispered.
"Oh dear," said Kobo. "I was only singing my morning song. Do you want to hear the rest?"
Pango uncurled a little more. "Will it be loud?"
"Very loud," said Kobo. "But it is a happy loud."
Kobo sang again. "Ka-ka-ka-KAAA!" This time Pango knew it was coming. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he did not roll up. And when the song was over, he found that he was smiling.
"That was a good song," he said.
"Thank you!" said Kobo. "Where are you going?"
"To the big termite hill by the river," said Pango.
"I'll fly along with you," said Kobo. "I like company."
So they went on together, Pango trotting on the red stones and Kobo hopping from branch to branch above him.
Soon they heard a deep, rumbling sound. "Hmmmmmmm."
Pango's scales prickled. His nose started to tuck in.
"Wait," said Kobo gently. "Let's look first."
Pango took a slow breath. He peeked through the tall grass. There, under a tree, lay a big old tortoise with a shell like a mossy rock. Her eyes were closed. She was humming to herself in the sunshine.
"That's Grandmother Mossback," said Kobo. "She hums when she is happy."
"Hmmmmm," hummed Grandmother Mossback. She opened one wrinkly eye. "Good morning, little pangolin. You have very fine scales."
"Thank you," said Pango. "You have a very fine hum."
He had not rolled into a ball at all. He felt a little taller.
They walked on. The path turned toward the river. Pango could hear the water now, chuckling and splashing over the stones. He could smell the cool, wet mud on the bank.
Then, suddenly, right beside the path, there was a SPLASH so big that drops sprinkled all over Pango's nose.
Snap! Pango rolled into a ball.
This time he rolled a little too well. The path sloped down toward the river, and Pango, round as a ball, began to roll. Bump, bump, bump, down the grassy bank he went, faster and faster.
"Pango!" cried Kobo, flapping after him.
Pango tumbled to a stop at the very edge of the water. His head was spinning. Very carefully, he peeked out.
Right in front of him, half in the water, was a young otter with shiny brown fur and long whiskers. The otter was staring at Pango with wide, worried eyes.
"I'm so sorry!" said the otter. "I didn't mean to splash you. I was diving for a smooth stone. Are you all right?"
Pango wiggled his nose. He wiggled his tail. He was wet and muddy and dizzy, but he was not hurt at all.
"I'm all right," he said. Then, because it really had been a funny roll, he began to giggle. The otter began to giggle too. Kobo landed on a rock and laughed, "Ka-ka-ka!"
"My name is Nuru," said the otter. "Do you want to see my stone collection?"
Pango did. Nuru showed him smooth white stones, speckled grey stones, and one tiny green stone that shone like a drop of the river. And right behind Nuru's stones, on the sunny bank, stood the big termite hill.
Pango ate a wonderful breakfast. Kobo sang. Nuru did three somersaults in the water. Grandmother Mossback came slowly down the bank and hummed along.
When the sun was high, Pango said goodbye to his new friends and walked home along the path of red stones.
The leaves crackled under his feet. A frog said "Rrribbit." The wind whooshed through the trees. And Pango did not roll up even once. He listened, and every sound seemed to be saying hello.
At home, his mother was waiting at the door of their burrow.
"How was your morning, my little pinecone?" she asked.
"I heard a hornbill, a humming tortoise, and a splashing otter," said Pango. "And I only rolled into a ball twice."
"Only twice!" said his mother. "That is very brave."
"And the second time," said Pango, with a happy little wiggle, "I rolled all the way to a new friend."
Pango had one very special trick. Whenever he felt surprised, he curled up tight into a round, scaly ball. Snap! Just like that. His nose tucked in. His tail wrapped around. And there he stayed, safe and snug, until he felt brave enough to peek out again.
The trouble was that Pango felt surprised by almost everything.
When a leaf crackled under his foot, he rolled into a ball. When a frog said "Rrribbit," he rolled into a ball. When the wind whooshed through the trees, he rolled into a ball. Once, he even rolled into a ball because of his own sneeze.
"Achoo!" Snap!
His mother laughed softly and patted his scales. "Pango, my little pinecone," she said, "your ball is a wonderful trick. But you do not need it every time. Most sounds are only the forest saying hello."
Pango wanted to believe her. But the forest was so full of sounds.
One sunny morning, his mother said, "Today you may go to the big termite hill by the river all by yourself. Follow the path of red stones. Eat your breakfast, and come straight home when the sun is high."
Pango's heart went thump, thump. All by himself! He felt proud and wobbly at the same time.
He set off along the path of red stones. The morning was bright and warm. Butterflies floated over the flowers like little yellow kites. The ground smelled of earth and sunshine.
Then, from a branch above him, came a loud, strange sound.
"Ka-ka-ka-KAAA!"
Snap! Pango rolled into a ball.
He waited. His heart thumped. Nothing happened. After a long while, he uncurled one tiny eye and peeked out.
On the branch sat a big black-and-white bird with an enormous curved yellow beak. The bird tilted its head and looked down at him.
"Good morning!" said the bird cheerfully. "I'm Kobo the hornbill. Why are you a ball?"
"Your voice surprised me," Pango whispered.
"Oh dear," said Kobo. "I was only singing my morning song. Do you want to hear the rest?"
Pango uncurled a little more. "Will it be loud?"
"Very loud," said Kobo. "But it is a happy loud."
Kobo sang again. "Ka-ka-ka-KAAA!" This time Pango knew it was coming. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he did not roll up. And when the song was over, he found that he was smiling.
"That was a good song," he said.
"Thank you!" said Kobo. "Where are you going?"
"To the big termite hill by the river," said Pango.
"I'll fly along with you," said Kobo. "I like company."
So they went on together, Pango trotting on the red stones and Kobo hopping from branch to branch above him.
Soon they heard a deep, rumbling sound. "Hmmmmmmm."
Pango's scales prickled. His nose started to tuck in.
"Wait," said Kobo gently. "Let's look first."
Pango took a slow breath. He peeked through the tall grass. There, under a tree, lay a big old tortoise with a shell like a mossy rock. Her eyes were closed. She was humming to herself in the sunshine.
"That's Grandmother Mossback," said Kobo. "She hums when she is happy."
"Hmmmmm," hummed Grandmother Mossback. She opened one wrinkly eye. "Good morning, little pangolin. You have very fine scales."
"Thank you," said Pango. "You have a very fine hum."
He had not rolled into a ball at all. He felt a little taller.
They walked on. The path turned toward the river. Pango could hear the water now, chuckling and splashing over the stones. He could smell the cool, wet mud on the bank.
Then, suddenly, right beside the path, there was a SPLASH so big that drops sprinkled all over Pango's nose.
Snap! Pango rolled into a ball.
This time he rolled a little too well. The path sloped down toward the river, and Pango, round as a ball, began to roll. Bump, bump, bump, down the grassy bank he went, faster and faster.
"Pango!" cried Kobo, flapping after him.
Pango tumbled to a stop at the very edge of the water. His head was spinning. Very carefully, he peeked out.
Right in front of him, half in the water, was a young otter with shiny brown fur and long whiskers. The otter was staring at Pango with wide, worried eyes.
"I'm so sorry!" said the otter. "I didn't mean to splash you. I was diving for a smooth stone. Are you all right?"
Pango wiggled his nose. He wiggled his tail. He was wet and muddy and dizzy, but he was not hurt at all.
"I'm all right," he said. Then, because it really had been a funny roll, he began to giggle. The otter began to giggle too. Kobo landed on a rock and laughed, "Ka-ka-ka!"
"My name is Nuru," said the otter. "Do you want to see my stone collection?"
Pango did. Nuru showed him smooth white stones, speckled grey stones, and one tiny green stone that shone like a drop of the river. And right behind Nuru's stones, on the sunny bank, stood the big termite hill.
Pango ate a wonderful breakfast. Kobo sang. Nuru did three somersaults in the water. Grandmother Mossback came slowly down the bank and hummed along.
When the sun was high, Pango said goodbye to his new friends and walked home along the path of red stones.
The leaves crackled under his feet. A frog said "Rrribbit." The wind whooshed through the trees. And Pango did not roll up even once. He listened, and every sound seemed to be saying hello.
At home, his mother was waiting at the door of their burrow.
"How was your morning, my little pinecone?" she asked.
"I heard a hornbill, a humming tortoise, and a splashing otter," said Pango. "And I only rolled into a ball twice."
"Only twice!" said his mother. "That is very brave."
"And the second time," said Pango, with a happy little wiggle, "I rolled all the way to a new friend."
