Cygnets!!

The last week has had it's sweet moments and it's sad moments. I was not the only person anxiously waiting for the swan eggs to hatch. There are several other people that are lurking around the nests waiting for the first crack to show. One, an older gentleman, has become a Bekannter (acquaintance) of mine. We try to piece together my poor German and his rudimentary English to make swan talk. He's retired so he's been spending almost every waking moment there - camera in hand. While I was somewhere shoving another Bratwurst down my gullet, he was there capturing every small detail of the first hatchlings. And hatch they did.

I arrived on Monday to learn that one of the mothers had four new baby cygnets. Her last egg is still left to hatch. It's was hard to get any pictures since the babes spend most of their time under the mother's wings but I managed a few.



And now the sad part. The other Swan Mother had just two eggs. Now she has just one. Apparently, yesterday some teenage boys were showing off, being stupid or whatnot and decided it would be fun to try and steal the eggs. They got one of the eggs and when people nearby tried to persuade them to put the egg back, the teen's response was, "here, you put it back." And then he rolled the egg on the ground like a bowling ball. Of course, it smashed.

When I heard this, I started to cry. I was so upset that I had to call Thomas at work. I've done that only once since I've been here. The news hit me so hard. It was just such a cruel, senseless thing to do. The egg couldn't have been more than a week away from hatching. That mother has sat there day and night, through all kinds of weather, only to have someone destroy her family. For no reason. I feel like they should find the kids and arrest them. But they bolted and my swan friend thinks they'll never find them. They better hope he doesn't recognized them around the lake because he was as mad/sad about it as a parent protecting a child. Here's the mother with her lone egg. It still breaks my heart.


UPDATE: The egg of the second swan never hatched although she sat on it for a good three weeks after it should have hatched. Finally the man I call the Swan Professor (he visits them every day, knows everything about them, names them and basically just loves and cares for them) had to remove the egg so she could get on with her life. Heartbreaking.

Happy Mother's Day!

Spring is in full force on our little Lake Fasanerie. Mother ducks have already started to hatch their broods and the swans are busy building nests and laying eggs. I saw the first nest on Monday tucked up right along the shore line. The mother was sitting proudly, the father patrolling the surrounding water. Across the lake, another swan couple was canvassing the shoreline. Sure enough, by Wednesday they’d claimed their stake and were busy decorating their new nest with sticks, twigs and grass.

Besides the joy that comes with seeing nature work its miracle, the swan nests have provided an added health benefit for me. I’m more eager to get out there and exercise because I’ve become so emotionally invested in the swans and their eggs. I play games with myself. Yesterday I decided to do as many loops as it would take for one of the swans to get off her nest so I could get an updated egg count. It took me five laps (just over 6 miles) before one of the lovely ladies hauled tail and went for a little dip in the water.

Apparently, swans lay anywhere from 3-10 eggs usually separated by two days in between. My last count has one nest at 2 eggs and the other at 5. The gestation period averages between 35-40 days. So, come June, we’ll have at least seven small, sweet swans swimming around. How’s that for alliteration?

I’m personally hoping for at least nine cygnets so I can name each one after the Fellowship of the Nine.When I was an early teen and well into Lord of the Rings, reading and rereading it obsessively, a stray cat that we'd christened Gray Lady had a batch of kittens under our back porch. As I recall, it was nine kittens but a lot of what I recall is not 100% historically accurate. Shocking, I know. However, the number of nine does make for a better story so let's just go with nine, shall we? Good. I immediately declared myself Namer of all things Kitten. Fuzzy little Frodo, Gandalf the Gray (he took after his mother), Aragorn... My little sister had another idea entirely. At the time, she was reading the Big Book of Bible Stories and she thought the kittens should all have biblical names. Ruth. Rachel. Abraham. I mean really, if it comes down to Abraham or Aragorn what cat would you want covering your back?

I don't think Gray Lady and her offspring stuck around long enough for the issue to ever get resolved. It's been a gaping hole in my childhood development ever since. So come on swan moms - keep a laying and give a girl a little Legolas!

 

Update: as of this morning we are up to eight eggs. Thanks Moms! And Happy Mother's Day!

Seventh Swan Sob Song

As I was out partaking in my daily constitutional yesterday, I scrutinized the sights and the sounds of the lake as is my wont. Our lake is inhabited by a huge goose population, a colony of ducks and six beautiful swans. Swans, as all girls who have weathered the love-lorn teen years know, mate for life. Our lake swans carve out separate areas of the lake for themselves careful to maintain a suitable distance from other couples. And even though the male and female can be quite a distance apart at times, it is always easily discernible who is with whom.

Except yesterday. Yesterday there was one swan who seemed to always be alone, drifting in the middle of the lake. It was so unusual that I stopped and did a pairing up of couples. Two. Four. Six. And Seven. The swan did not have a partner.

Maybe it was the overcast day, maybe it was the first hint of homesickness, but I was so touched by that lone swan. I created this whole story in my head about how he had lost his beloved life companion one crisp fall night when she unknowingly swallowed a plastic six pack tab some hooligans had tossed into the water (recycle people!). All this poor swan wanted, nay desperately needed, was a compassionate ear to help hold his pain. The other swans ignored him and the ducks wanted nothing to do with him. Not even the uncool Emo ducks who hang out on the fringe of the lake where they probably smoke reed all day. Futilely the lone swan would swim toward a group of ducks only to have them turn tail and paddle off in another direction. Again and again. It was heartbreaking. Simply heartbreaking. I worried about the cold weather approaching. Who would keep him warm at night? Could I make a nest out of an old wool blanket and nestle it in some bushes? Can you get more teen-motional than that? I nearly cried I tell you.

When Thomas got home I shared the sad plight of the Seventh Swan with him and then I did something really pathetic: I told him that I was that Seventh Swan. We were as one. Floating alone in a lake full of people who ignore us. Surrounded by ducks who don't speak our language. Without family. Without friends. Facing a long, lonely winter ahead. Yeah, so then Thomas pretty much felt like crap too. That kind of made me feel better.

I went to the lake today to check on my Soulmate Swan and imagine my surprise when I counted TEN - yes ten swans. Divide by five and you get TWO. Every swan had a partner! So now I figure the real story probably went something like this. Big Swan Partner Swap this weekend. Maybe Sienna Miller isn't the only one who thinks monogamy is over-rated. Really, shouldn't swans be able to give in to their animal instincts once in a while? And now I think the Swinger Seventh Swan got into town a few days early so he could get a head start on scoping out the other bloke's birds. Pig.