The Swan Lady

This is a story about an unexpected bond between wild swans and myself captured through the eye of a lens.

When I was nine years old my teacher read a book to the class entitled ‘The Trumpet of the Swan’ by E.B. White. It was a story about a boy who makes friends with a wild trumpeter swan that cannot trumpet. I loved the story so much that my teacher gave it to me as a leaving present. Little did I know how this fictional narrative would become part of my own life experience.

Over a decade later I became an international conservationist, working in the field for more than 20 years. Then along came long Covid and I found myself limited by my disability to my local town.

My rehabilitation centred around my local river and canal, which coincided with swan territory. I watched them from afar until I read a post from a vet saying it’s helpful to feed swans in the winter, when they can struggle with malnutrition. That was all the encouragement I needed.

Loaded up with swan pellets (specifically designed to be nutritious) I began regularly feeding the town swans. Over time I could distinguish between the individual swans and came to learn their behaviour. The cute tail wagging turned out to be them having a poo. A head nod was a polite greeting, a honk was a more animated welcome, while a head curl and a deep throated purring sound, or the swelling of the neck where it meets their head, was a sign of affection.

I realised the river running through town was part of a time share agreement between two couples. King and Queen (named because they were ruling the towns river) take over in the autumn after they have seen off that years brood of cygnets. They spend the winter settling in, courting, mating and then nesting. The cygnets hatch in May or June and the parents guide them to their country retreat down river. That is when Jeremy and Jemima (named after Beatrix Potter characters) come in for the summer shift. Jeremy and Jemima have tried for cygnets without success. This year, however, we had a new family come into town for the summer months.

The interaction between the wild swans and the human environment can be both entertaining and fascinating. One day I watched as King attempted to ride an abandoned paddle board, which ended with an undignified splash. On another occasion, King and Queen wandered onto a bridge to peer at a baby in a pushchair, much to the mothers amusement. The child took the appearance of two curious swans well.

On the opposite end of the spectrum there are times when swans can seem shockingly violent. Swan couples will battle each other over territory and when their cygnets are fully grown in the autumn, but retain their brown coloured feathers, their parents will aggressively drive them away.

King takes his parenting responsibilities very seriously and thoroughly guards his stretch of the river in the run up to and during nesting. This results in many forewarned paddle boarders being flipped into the water and numerous kayakers having to beat a swift retreat.

When I began feeding the swans it had never occurred to me that they would recognise me, but they do. They recognise my voice and my appearance, no matter what I am wearing. You cannot go undercover once a swan knows you. They come charging over when they hear me call. Jeremy gets very excited about his food and will hiss and jump up and down impatiently. Meanwhile Jemima is polite and quietly confident.

There’s something special about non-verbal communications between species which seems even more rarified when it involves wild animals who choose to trust you. King has left me with Queen and the cygnets to pursue kayakers, later to return with a triumphant head nod.

While I am their meals on wheels, they are my Zen masters. They can absorb your attention and make day to day worries slip away. Your heart beat lowers and your batteries get a boost.

As I watched the swans, people watched me. I have been stopped in the street by people politely referring to me as The Swan Lady and some have asked ‘are they your swans?’. Meanwhile my family and friends more aptly referred to me as The Crazy Swan Lady. One friend sent a Crazy Swan Lady branded bag for my swan food.

Befriending wild animals can also be upsetting. One young swan on the canal was covered in oil twice and ended up dying after becoming sick, another young male became entwined in fishing gear and multiple cygnets have not made it past their first year. The Wiltshire Wildlife Hospital and the RSPCA have frequently been called out on rescue missions to our little town.

Yet so many of the swans show such resilience. King and Queen had to build their nest four times this year as the floods submerged their first three creations, leaving two batches of eggs underwater. They triumphed when their cygnets hatched later than normal. Every year the towns people take pride watching over the nest, waiting for the first cygnet to emerge.

Shortly before my second nesting season I invested in a telephoto lens and combined my newfound bond with the swans with my new hobby of photography. Much to my surprise King and Queen brought their new born offspring to my feet and overtime the cygnets would come to recognise me, making excited chirping sounds when they spotted their mobile cafe approaching. 

Not long ago my mother gifted me ‘The Trumpet of the Swan’ as we reflected on how I had come full circle, becoming the protagonist in the story who befriended a wild swan.