Country diary: pink-footed geese sing the wind’s own song

Claxton, Norfolk: It was as if the field had uprooted and their calls were the landscape itself in full clamourOn any walk to the marsh I’m always struck how, with a single click of the closing door, the entire audible routine of the house interior – the ticking clock, the even hum of the central heating and fridge, the slow breathing of all that other civilised stuff – is washed away instantly by the sound tide of the outdoors.What we perhaps require as animals is release from