Swan Songs

We were on autopilot, the dogs and I, on our usual run to the little lake in the adjoining neighborhood when I screeched to a stop along the shore. I really could not believe my eyes. On our dippy little pond, covered with water weeds were two magnificent swans.

The Canada Geese were all huddled at one end and looked like gnats next to the giant white swans. The swans had bright orange beaks with black knobs on them, and black extending to their dark eyes. The rest of the huge birds was pure white. Their necks curved in the classic sinuous s, and they made the little unassuming lake suddenly seem magical. I rubbed my eyes. Maybe they were really just large white geese? But no, these were swans. Out of the dregs of my memory I even clutched at the kind- Cygnet Swans. I knew cygnet also meant baby swan, but I vaguely recalled that this classic swan was also named Cygnet.

While I watched, the swans glided near, and my normally explosive dogs perked up, but were silent. I think they too were captivated by the beauty. A few geese also ventured near, thinking I had food most likely. With an explosion of enormous wings flapping, the larger swan tore after the geese, nipping at them. Several times over the many minutes I stood there, the swans attacked the geese. I felt sorry for the geese. After all, it had been their lake first.

 But swans! Here on little Shadow Lake! And it was a pair. Were they here to raise young?

I rarely see anyone by this little lake. The dogs and I go almost every day. It is lined on two sides by trees and a little path. The other two sides have houses along the banks. It is very small. No more than a quarter mile all around the edge. But I like to go to the tree covered path and look out over the little lake, and talk to the geese. I feel that for a moment, I am in nature. Not in the middle of a plain subdivision. My soul, which really belongs somewhere in the country soaks in those quiet moments of that little sanctuary, and then I am able to face the concrete and traffic again.

And now this in my little haven- swans!

Upon returning reluctantly home, I researched swans. The ones I had seen are indeed called Cygnet Swans, but more commonly Mute Swans. Their normal habitat usually only extends as far south as Maryland and North into Massachusetts and Canada. I wonder if they got tired of the constant onslaught of snow this year up North. I had instinctively known they were not in their usual setting.

Mute swans are not really mute. When angry or threatened, they emit a squawk.  Legends claim the swan is mute until its last moments. Upon dying, it breaks its silence and sings. Thus the famous "swan song". As far as I could tell, the only factual aspect of this might be that as it is dying, it is being threatened and it breaks its silence to squawk.


The Mute Swan is considered an invasive, non-indigenous species. For you kids preparing for your English AP exam, this means they crowd out other wildlife, and they were imported from somewhere else. Apparently, this is a source of controversy in the swan aficionado world. There is heated debate, with experts pointing to paintings from the 1500s of swans here in America, despite other experts claiming a latter importation date. And this is the part that floored me. In 2004, there was a nationwide program by our dear Uncle Sam to wipe out 85% of the mute swan population. This is because some experts claim that Mute Swans are so aggressive that they drive out other nesting wild fowl. Besides that, they eat prodigious amounts of water plants, leading to weed choked lakes no longer looking like green cesspools.(They phrased the danger a little differently.) Swans that become used to handouts from humans will become belligerant if food is then withheld. (so who doesn't?)


So as usual, the response is to kill them. Further research showed that the experts were wrong. Mute swans don't obliterate the vegetation, and don't chase out populations of wild fowl. And if people don't feed them, they will leave people alone, unless their nesting young are approached too closely. I for one, am rooting for the swans.


There are a lot of horrendous things going on in the world, even in my own small sphere of friends. Really horrible, unbearable difficulties. It is easy for sensitive souls to be swallowed up in all that despair. But then God sends a swan. Something beautiful, and unexpected. Something that makes me stop, catch my breath, clutch my heart. Something pure and white and holy in its loveliness. Something to remind me that even on the weed choked ponds of life, swans sometimes come to roost.

Psalm 104: 2-3,12,24

² The LORD wraps himself in light as with a garment;
   he stretches out the heavens like a tent
 ³ and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters.
¹² The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
   they sing among the branches.
 ²⁴ How many are your works, LORD!
   In wisdom you made them all;
   the earth is full of your creatures.