The square feeder used to keep one polite heap of seed and hope for the best. This week a tiny painted board appeared beside it, with a rowan berry, a sunflower heart, and a pale oat, each labeled in handwriting small enough for a beak.
At dawn the bullfinches arrived in a tidy line. Each bird tapped the rowan picture, waited for the board to dip as if it had understood, and only then took breakfast. We asked at the kiosk. "I thought they were arguing," said Mrs. Pell, still holding a paper bag. "They were only choosing. The one with the pink chest nodded twice. Very professional."
The park keeper pinned a note to the post: Kindly do not rearrange the pictures. The birds have a favorite order, and the rowan likes to go first.
The next morning the same bullfinch came back, studied the board, and tapped the oats for a change. The feeder did not complain. The table waited, and the square stayed quiet until every guest had nodded.