Summer 2014 and the weather was perfect for walking. All week, while I’d been working, it was warm, dry and sunny with blue skies to die for. When Sunday finally came around I was looking forward to a nice ten miles or so and planning to start with the river. That morning I looked out of the window to see rain and it felt like some kind of cruel joke. In fact I will admit to being rather grumpy about it.
14 July 2014
By the time I’d had a shower, got dressed and eaten some granola the rain had stopped but the sky was still steely grey and my weather app told me there was a chance of rain for most of the day. Perhaps if I’d had the normal three day weekend I’d have changed my plans and walked another day but I’d been asked to work some overtime on Monday to cover while another member of staff was out changing timetables at bus stops. It was walk on Sunday or not walk at all.
With my mac in my bag I thought I’d at least be prepared for the rain, even if I hate walking in it. I made it as far as the front garden before I spotted something else to make me grumble. The flowers had come out on the front garden yucca and the ants had immediately turned them into a farm. They were covered in black fly and ant farmers. Grrr!
The grey skies and black fly had me muttering under my breath all the way to the river but, by the time I got there, the clouds had parted to reveal a little blue so I began to feel a bit better. When I left the house it had felt chilly and I’d wondered if I should go back for a jacket. Once the sun broke through though it quickly began to get muggy. The swans on the river were obviously feeling it too because many of them had their feet raised in the air. The legs and feet of a swan are the only parts not covered in feathers and waving their feet around in the air helps regulate their temperature allowing the blood vessels close to the surface to transfer heat from the body to the air. It’s a little like us stripping off a layer of clothing.
A little further along I spotted a black swan in the distance and wondered if this was one of the three I saw further along the river the other day or another one altogether. Wild black swans are pretty rare in the UK so I’m hoping this one is a fourth and that they will breed. The black swan originates from Australia and all the ones in the UK were originally brought here for private collections. Of course some escaped and there are now around forty pairs of black swans in the wild, mostly in England.
This one began to slowly swim in my direction so I sat on the bank and waited with my camera at the ready. I hoped he would come towards me but he just sailed majestically past, closer but I knew it wouldn’t be the best photo in the world. According the the most recent information they do seem to be increasing in numbers over the last decade or so, so they must be breeding somewhere I guess.
At Dawlish and Leeds Castle there are lots of black swans but these are captive birds. Most are clipped so they can’t fly off which seems a bit of a shame to me but maybe some of them have managed to escape. Personally I’m hoping they really are breeding in the wild because I like their fancy ruffled feathers tipped with white and their red beaks. Just as I was about to get up thinking the show was over, this particular black swan slowly turned and came back towards me. Maybe this would be my lucky day.
This time he came within a few feet of me so I dared not move in case I frightened him. He looked right at me and I was treated to my first ever experience of a black swan call, a haunting, musical sound nothing like the whistling, snorting and hissing of the mute swans. I was transfixed. I was also annoyed that I didn’t have any bread to throw to tempt him closer. One of these days I really will bring bread with me, granary of course.
With another call he and a group of other assorted swans and gulls swam past. As I followed them with my eyes I could see exactly where they were going. A little way along the bank a family did have bread and they were throwing it. Of course I took full advantage of the situation and sidled along the bank for some more photos.
In the past the black swans I’ve seen have kept their distance from the mute swans but this one was so interested in the bread he seemed to forget his shyness. Five white swans, flanked by one black passed me by at speed making for the bread. When the feeding frenzy began it was every swan for himself as the gulls swooped down to take the bread, literally, from their mouths. Orange and red bills snapped on thin air as the gulls snatched the spoils in mid air.
The black swan was in the thick of it right in the middle of a group of mute swans stabbing at the water for bread like the rest of them. He glanced at me once or twice as if to say, “why aren’t you throwing me bread?” Some canoeists passed behind them and I wondered if they realised the spectacle they were missing.
All thoughts of walking distances and time were forgotten and I stayed to watch until the bread ran out and the party broke up. When it did I carried on towards Woodmill realising that any early morning grumpiness from the weather and the black fly had disappeared. The rain could pour down for all I cared, it would still have been a brilliant walk.
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