After I’d left Panda at The Triangle there was a temptation to go straight home again because the weather looked decidedly changeable. It seemed a shame to waste the nice granary bread in my bag though, especially as this was the first time I’d ever remembered to bring it, so I set off towards Riverside Park. As I walked down the slope to the park I could see I was in for a windy walk, the trees were all leaning away from the water and dark clouds were gathering.
When I spotted the black swan swimming along with a flotilla of white ones I thought about giving them some of my bread. I would be sure to get some brilliant black swan photos if I did but then I thought about the three orphaned cygnets further along the river and decided their need was greater.
Around the bend behind the reed beds a workman was clearing up fallen branches. There seemed to be a lot of them lying around, probably after the tail end of hurricane Bertha. It made me a little nervous to be honest. Last Wednesday an elderly man was killed by a falling tree on The Common and that was before all the wind and rain. It happened near the Hawthorns Centre, the one with the lovely wrought iron gates, and it took ten firefighters over an hour to free him but he died in hospital. Such a terrible tragedy for a man who apparently walked there every day. I hurried along looking suspiciously at all the trees lining the path and listened for any creaking sounds.
There weren’t many people in the park and I wondered if they were worried about the tress too, especially as it was so blustery. Once I’d crossed the road by Woodmill I relaxed a little. Most of the trees along this part are on the other side of the river, besides I was looking for the orphaned cygnets. The water was uncharacteristically empty when I got to the S bend where the cygnets are usually swimming. Not even a duckling. The further I went the more concerned I got. Had something happened to them? Usually this part of the river is teaming with wildlife and there wasn’t even a seagull.
When I reached Mansbridge without seeing the cygnets I became convinced they’d gone the same way as their parents. Those cygnets have been on the same part of the river since I first saw them as fluffy little hatchlings. I passed the bridge feeling very sad and carried on towards the pub. Maybe I’d walk home up Gaiters Hill, just in case they were hiding out there. Then, when I was almost at the pub I thought I could see them. Of course, with my eyesight I couldn’t be sure but I squinted and squinted and I was pretty sure it was them. What a relief. The clever little things had obviously worked out the pickings were far richer beside the pub garden where people were eating.
It seemed a shame to waste the bread so I carried on past the pub in the hope I’d see them on the other side. For a moment I even considered going inside, buying a diet coke and throwing my bread from there. Then I wondered if the staff would object, besides, it looked quite busy so I’d probably not be able to get near the water, especially with the new flood defences. There was no sign of them on the far side of the pub so I turned back.
Back on the bridge side of the pub I looked back along the river. The cygnets were in the exact same place. Part of me was pleased to see them safe, another part was disappointed I wouldn’t be able to feed them and get a really close look. Some fluffy ducklings were on the bank below the fence where I was standing and I decided, rather than take the bread home with me, I would give them some.
As soon as the first crust hit the water the three cygnets started to make a beeline for me. I really didn’t expect that. They must have some kind of bread radar because they were such a long way off they can’t have seen it. Within moments they were right by the bank snapping up lovely granary bread. Of course, I was delighted.
Slowly I crumbled the bread and threw it into the water, making sure the little ducklings had a chance to get some too. As I did I took photo after photo of the beautiful cygnets. Because of the fence I couldn’t get as close as I’d have liked but I still got lots of pictures. I could see the new white feathers beneath the grey brown baby baby plumage, the drops of water. If my arms had been longer I could have touched them. I make no apologies for the number of photos in this post, who knows when I’ll get another chance like this.
Once the bread was gone the cygnets went back to their pub grub scrounging position without a back ward glance. Ungrateful things. Still, I’m glad they are safe and I’m sure they’re getting well fed. The food in the pub is amazing!
Walking back towards Mansbridge I couldn’t help wondering why the river was so quiet, surely every single duck and seagull couldn’t be hiding behind the pub? Even the calm water behind Woodmill was completely empty. Usually you can hardly see the water for ducks, geese and gulls. Is there something they know that we don’t?
Despite my original misgivings about the weather the rain had held off but the clouds overhead had gone from dark grey to a worrying shade of black and I thought my luck was running out. It was enough to set me marching at top speed towards home. Towards Cobden bridge I spotted sailing boats on the water. It looked like sailing lessons were going on. The other thing I spotted was the scary woman with the mobility scooter. Until then I’d been rushing to beat the rain but I slowed my step, not wanting to catch up with her. As long as I was behind her she couldn’t run me down.
To my horror the scary woman pulled onto the grass to wait for her little dog to do its business. This meant I’d have no choice but to pass. Once again I sped up hoping to get a good head start before she set off again. Then I saw something that made me almost laugh out loud. She got out of the chair, chased the dog across the grass, picked up his poop (all credit to her for that) and marched all the way back to the dog poop bin. For a long time I’ve been convinced half the people in those mobility scooters can walk perfectly well and she’d just proved it. This was no slow shuffle, there was no limping, she really can walk perfectly well. Ok so maybe she does have a medical condition that means she can’t walk far. Maybe it also makes her a homicidal maniac.
Feeling a little safer I carried on along the river. The swans were gathered round the jetty where a father and daughter had a big bag of bread. As I passed they all crowded towards me expectantly but, of course, I had no bread of my own left. Given the size of the bread bag I was pretty sure none of them would starve though. A steady stream of swans were making their way from the bridge towards the food, maybe they all have bread radar.
Right at the back of the crowd one fluffy little cygnet was frantically trying to keep up. He looked at me plaintively. When he realised I had nothing for him he paddled on cheeping dolefully. Poor thing.
It was a relief to reach the clock tower and know I only had a mile to go. The sky seemed to be getting darker by the second. As it was I got to my door just as the first drops began to fall. I’d call that a very successful walk.
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