A clamor outside reaches my ears; I stand on my chair to crane my neck at the window and I see the sky in wing-shaped dots. The flocks of Canada geese that have been milling about the field outside my window for the greater part of the last week have taken to the air once more, and there is half a minute of vague V formations cutting sinuously across the overcast slate above before the squadrons suddenly form up and within moments, the sky is empty, even the tiniest pinpricks of wings in the distance are gone, and there is nothing but the near-silence of wind and humming heating units.