By eight the bamboo already knew which cane was ready for a polite sip. Pandas greeted the stalk, nodded to the bench, and only then fitted tiny straws to their paws. Each guest took exactly one quiet sip, and the next in line waited until the green had finished its little bow.
We asked at the kiosk by the grove. "I thought the leaves had grown extra drinking tubes," said a woman with a paper bag. "Then the first panda waited for the stalk to nod, and the rest of the line copied the pause. My bun went cold from looking up."
The park keeper pinned a note to the bench: visitors may watch, but please do not rattle the canes. By noon the grove already knew one quieter way to say good morning, and a sparrow on the path practiced sipping dew from exactly one hollow.
The morning after, the same panda came back, greeted the stalk again, and chose a neighboring cane. The first straw was still warm, as if the grove had saved the place.