By seven the pond already knew which tummy was ready for a shirtfront. The penguins arrived in a quiet line, greeted the nearest pebble, nodded to a duck, and only then accepted a bib no bigger than a teacup saucer. Each bird straightened exactly one white fold and stopped, as if a second crease would be showing off.
We asked at the kiosk by the gate. "I thought someone had hung a tiny laundry overnight," said a man with a paper bag. "Then the smallest penguin waited for my nod, and the fold sat down as if it had practiced. My bun went quieter from standing still."
The park keeper pinned a note to the railing: visitors may watch the shirtfronts, but please do not tug a second fold on the same tummy. By noon the pond already knew one slower way to say good morning, and a duck on the bank practiced waiting for exactly one crease.