They say that long ago, the Wind had a voice —
a real one.
It used to whisper secrets to the trees,
tell stories to the rivers,
and sing the dreams of animals while they slept.
But the Wind grew tired.
Too many ears closed.
Too many hearts forgot how to listen.
So the Wind went silent.
Blue Jay noticed first.
He hopped from branch to branch,
tilting his head, frowning, mimicking old echoes.
“Where did your stories go?” he shouted at the sky.
No answer.
Just the sound of his own chirp bouncing back.
So, Blue Jay decided to find the Wind’s voice himself.
He flew into the mountains and tickled the sleeping rocks.
He flew into storm clouds and shouted louder than thunder.
He dived into rivers, asking the fish if they’d swallowed it.
Still nothing.
But on the seventh morning,
as he sat — soaked, tired, and covered in pine needles —
he heard it.
Not from the sky, but from within.
A tiny whisper.
It wasn’t a story.
It was a laugh.
His own.
And that’s when Blue Jay understood:
“The Wind never lost its voice.
It just waited for someone curious enough to carry it again.”
Since then, Blue Jay never stops talking.
Never stops asking.
Never stops laughing —
because he knows, somewhere in all that noise,
a story is waiting to be born.
