By dusk the toolshed had a classroom no taller than a watering can. The hamsters had opened an evening school of polite storing, and each seed had to be greeted by a pair of cheeks before it was allowed into the burrow.
We asked at the kiosk. "They used to carry four at once and mix up whose was whose," said the gardener, tapping a lantern. "Now there is a nod to the doorway first. Very civilized. The sunflower is taking notes."
A neighbor left a line in the gratitude book: "Watched a millet grain wait its turn. The cheeks said hello. The shelf said thank you. Nobody rushed."
The next evening a sparrow arrived with a single oat of his own and stood at the end of the line. They saved him a quiet pocket, just once.