While I did manage to "tick off"—as in the British way of listing birds you've seen; in fact, British birders are sometimes called "tickers"—a semi-rarity called the White-fronted Goose, the bird-of-the-winter, the Pink-footed Goose managed to elude me. I always seemed to just miss it, and while this is primarily a testament to my cardiac condition—I am temporarily way short on get-up-and-go—I'm not going to beat myself up about it. However late or early, I did get out to the right area... and I'm still getting out to the right area. The Pink-footed, I gather, is long gone, but, in the true spirit of birding, you never know what you're going to see. This trip, the only birds in the area were commoners: Canada Geese and crows. Both species were busy foraging amidst last year's corn stalks, now cut long to the ground, in the hope that they'd find some corn kernels or bugs left behind by the harvesters. One of the crows was not happy to have his work interrupted by a prying photographer. The other birds didn't seem to mind.