It’s the busiest park in the District. Hundreds of birds roost in the towering trees, swooping down to peck at the Bird Feeder’s feet. He’s there every morning with his Washington Post and bag of peanuts he shares with the inhabitants of this place. It’s as much his morning ritual as walking through the park is mine. We’ve never talked or said hello but we share one connection- routine. Every day at half past eight I walk by and everyday at that same moment he cracks a peanut, eats the nuts and scatters the remains from his mouth to the finches, pigeons, ducks and squirrels that run in between his feet.