At first light the chaffinches lined the park fence as if it were a cloakroom rail. Each bird greeted a twig, nodded to the nearest bench, and only then straightened exactly one striped knot on its little chest.
We asked at the kiosk. I thought they were late for a concert, said a woman buying sunflower seeds, until I noticed how carefully they waited for the twig to nod back. A neighbor had heard the fence was opening a tailor shop. It was only morning manners.
The park keeper pinned a card to the rail: one knot each, please do not tug the stripes before eight, visitors may whisper well done.
By evening a sparrow sat on the same rail and asked whether leftover stripes could be borrowed for tomorrow. The keeper lent him a quiet loop from the clover.