'Who's the fairest of them all? Obviously me,' thought the cockatoo.

The cockatoo sat like royalty on its wooden throne, its yellow crest catching the afternoon light like a crown. It didn’t flinch or shy away as I observed it—no, this bird seemed to revel in the attention. There was something almost theatrical about the way it tilted its head, as if waiting for applause. Around us, the zoo buzzed with distant chatter and footsteps, but here at this moment, it was just me and this unapologetically self-assured creature. I couldn’t help but admire its audacity to exist so boldly. The air carried a faint breeze that rustled the leaves above, but nothing disturbed the poise of this feathered monarch.