Pink-footed goose

Oh, how I love the sweet winters of England. I come here every year for their gentleness, kindness and welcome. When the wind comes whistling straight from the Urals to my beloved Norfolk marshes, I never complain. I just think how much worse it is back home in Greenland.

- As told to Simon Barnes

Monday

As ever, the day began with a group of us pink-feet yodelling across the sky. We move from nightlands to daylands: from the marshes to fields of endless fodder. Numbers vary from day to day. This morning we were 2,000 strong, making V and W formations and long slashes and longer back slashes against the low dark clouds. A great poet said that we're a kind of living calligraphy:

I like to think that one day we'll spell out a full haiku in Japanese characters.

Tuesday