Where the geese go

I'll leave the snow goose theatrics for another day. They're not even pinkfeet, probably just greylags, boorish honking burglar-busters, falling some way short of a blizzard of white wings or a cacophany of calls over the brittle-parched prairie. Just out for a wander between parks for some reason. Disturbed by dogs. Pissed off by people. But geese in the sky are still a wonder in our world. Flicking the V.