By seven the harbor already knew which tusk was ready for a pencil. The narwhals arrived in a quiet line, greeted the water, nodded to a boat, and only then accepted a pencil no longer than a teaspoon. Each tusk drew exactly one wave and stopped, as if a second ripple would be showing off.
We asked at the kiosk by the pier. "I thought someone had sketched the morning onto the water overnight," said a woman with a paper bag. "Then the smallest narwhal waited for the boat's nod, and the pencil 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 drawing, but please do not ask a tusk for a second wave on the same round. By noon the harbor already knew one slower way to say good morning, and a gull on the post practiced waiting for exactly one line.