Suzanne Askham

Journey of Geese: Embracing Change and Adventure

The path along Cocklemore Brook gets a bit muddy at times. Pretty, but muddy. The other day I was tiptoeing over damp autumn leaves when a noise overhead caused me to look up. Geese, honking in formation – flapping heavy wings in a tired ‘V’ shape they likely maintained all the way from Iceland, Greenland or beyond.

There’s something rather soulful about the noise of flying geese. How do they manage to sound both mournful, and adventurous? Perhaps I’m dwelling on this right now because my daughter has recently gone to the other side of the world, and she won’t be back until the geese have returned to their homelands, hatched their young, and started gathering for their next winter in the British Isles. 

There is a wrench somewhere around the heart when a loved one is absent. Yet it’s not all sad, because I’m happy for my daughter to stretch her own wings: to enjoy a new adventure and become more independent. 

The urge to travel is no doubt deep within humans, as much as it’s within those tired geese overhead. If we can’t, or choose  not to, cover physical distance, we can always use our imaginations. Perhaps that’s why the honking of geese as they fly is so evocative: it’s the sound of faraway places, heard within the comfort of our own neighbourhood.