5 May 2016
On the way home from the RR10 we drove across Cobden Bridge. The sun was almost set and I looked over at Riverside Park a little longingly. The Snow Geese had captured the colours of the evening sky and were glowing in beautiful striations of gold, pink and red. If I could have jumped out of the car there and then and taken a photo I would have. Some how I didn’t think the Spitfires giving me a lift would have appreciated it and it certainly wouldn’t have done my reputation any good.
As we drove off, with me gazing out of the car window like a love struck teenager, I made a mental note to come back at sunset today. Well, if it wasn’t raining or cloudy anyway. As it happened it wasn’t so, a little after eight, I set off with CJ in tow. With the mile walk to the park I figured we’d arrive just before the time I’d passed the night before.
As we crossed the main road though, the sun was already low in the sky and I wondered if I should have left earlier. After that it was a mad dash to get to Riverside before the show was over. Poor CJ had a job to keep up with me, despite his long legs. At the Triangle the traffic was terrible and I danced on the pavement anxious to get across, feeling my photo opportunity was slipping away. At the top of the slope I looked down into the park. The sky was pretty but nothing that could possibly have been called stunning.
Maybe we just needed to wait a bit. Sunsets are like that. Sometimes they look as if they’re over and then they have a glorious last gasp. Well, I could hope anyway. Half way down we turned towards the Snow Geese. Newly restored after their near disastrous brush with storm Katie, they did look pinkish but nowhere near as breathtaking as they had yesterday.
To be honest I was all for sitting on the grass waiting to see if the sun was going to do a colourful final flourish before it went down. CJ had other ideas though. He wanted to walk up to the jetty and see if there were any swans about.
“I shouldn’t think so,” I said, pointing at the empty river with its gentle burnishing of pinkness. “They’re probably roosting by now.”
He was insistent though. “I think this is as much sunset as we’re going to get,” he said, “and there might be a few swans further on. I’d quite like to see them sleeping anyway.”
I looked at the sky. I looked back at the Snow Geese and decided he was probably right.
As we made our way towards the jetty there wasn’t a single bird in sight, not even a gull. It looked like our walk would be in vain. The tide was very low, but when we got close enough to see through the rails CJ began to get excited.
“I’m sure I can see black swans,” he said.
His eyes are far younger and better than mine and I couldn’t see much of anything at first but we kept walking and sure enough he was right.
“Actually they look like the adults not the first set of cygnets,” I said, beginning to get a little excited myself.
On we hurried and, once we got to the far edge of the jetty our excitement reached a whole new level. There in the gloom were the black swan adults and with them were two fluffy cygnets!
The slope down onto the jetty was precariously steep and the growing darkness kept me on the bank but CJ struggled down. Before long he was climbing back up, having worked out I had a better view. The new cygnets were adorable, not quite balls of fluff but not far off it. We oohed and ahhed and took way too many photos, despite the lack of light.
We weren’t alone in our admiration of the cygnets. A couple were standing on the slippery steps just up from the jetty throwing bread. I took a step or two to get some closer photos, but almost slipped, so quickly changed my mind. CJ, far braver as usual, made it onto the stone platform and sat enthralled.
Meanwhile I crouched at the top of the bank taking photo after photo in an attempt to capture the magic of the beautiful birds and the last vestiges of the sunset reflected in the river. When the other people had had their fill CJ moved to the slippery steps and sat for quite some time right at the edge of the water. He was close enough to reach out and stroke the babies if he’d dared but I think the lesson of birds biting may have finally sunk home so he didn’t.
If it wasn’t for the growing darkness we could easily have stayed all night. Eventually we tore ourselves away and, feeling priveledged to have had such a close encounter with some of the river’s youngest inhabitants, strolled slowly back towards Cobden Bridge. The last hints of pink streaked the sky as we reached the Snow Geese.
Before we left I wanted a closer look at the lovely sparkly geese, sunset reflections or not. After the storms, artist, Sarah Filmer started a crowd funding campaign to fund raise money for repairs. In just twenty four hours it had surpassed its target with eighty seven backers pledging £925 for repair materials and a tree surgeon to help untangle them. As we got closer I could see some of the new geese have engravings, sponsored by the backers. What a wonderful idea.
Our visit may have started with a vague feeling of disappointment but, as so often happens, we’d met with success beyond our wildest dreams. This river of ours never ceases to amaze and surprise.
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Beautiful sunset pictures, you are so clever.
Thank you but the credit goes to Mother Nature for creating such a spectacle. I’ve just come back from the New Forest and am going through some truly spectacular sunset photos right now.
I like the snow geese and wish we’d see more art around here. We don’t really seem to have much outdoor artworks.
It looks like the underside of one of the black swans was light colored. I wonder if they’re white on their undersides.
The black swans have white feathers on the tips of their wings. Ut you only see them occasionally. We are very lucky here with art work. I’m hoping to walk a new art trail tomorrow.
Beautiful picture of the bridge reflected in the water.
Lisa x
Thank you. it was CJ who pointed it out as a photo opportunity.
Are those the only cygnets from all those swans? That seems quite a small number.
The highlight of my London days, now that it’s light in the evenings, is when the train home goes by the river and I can see the swans.
Those are the second brood from the black swans (the first hatched in October). So far the white swans have none but I’m sure they’re nesting. I do love to watch the swans.