20 June 2019
Country Matters
Moving swans.
By Lynda Goetz
Down here in the Devon countryside, far from Westminster, we have had our own little drama this week. For the last couple of months our neighbours have had a young swan on their pond. His parents made their home on another pond nearby, which was where Sam was born last year. Rather sadly for Sam, when he tried to return to home, the adults were less than welcoming. Dad, in particular, made it very clear he was not wanted and chased him off so aggressively that he was not able to fly for a few weeks. He was spotted wandering disconsolately around the lanes, and someone called the RSPCA. Their representative thought the easiest thing would be to try and settle him elsewhere and our neighbours’ pond was conveniently close by.
For a number of weeks, to somewhat mixed reactions from our neighbours, he settled on their pond, chasing off any dogs or people who had the temerity to disturb his peaceful possession. Although his plumage is still juvenile and he does not yet possess the elegant whiteness of an adult, his presence on the pond did add a certain je ne sais quoi; even if his droppings around the edge and in the adjoining meadow were something of an unwanted side-effect. Over the weeks he practised taking off from their lawn and gliding down to land with a splash in the pond. He regained the use of his wings and evidently decided to do something about the fact that he was rather lonely and not too keen on living on his own. Foolishly, he tried, yet again, to return home. Once again, Dad showed his displeasure and his superior strength. Sam waddled back looking decidedly lop-sided.
Our neighbours became concerned and called the RSPCA once more. A man turned up in a small white van which contained a cage large enough to hold a swan. It had been decided that it would perhaps be best for Sam if he were checked over, allowed to recuperate and given a home well away from his abusive father. On arrival, Mr RSPCA parked up and took out a long hooked pole from the van. ‘A swan hook’, he explained in case any of us had not been able to identify its purpose. Our neighbour and another friend, experienced in handling all sorts of animals, had been drafted in to assist in the operation. His wife and I were mere onlookers. It soon became evident that Mr RSPCA was not terribly relaxed about swan-catching. He commented that most swans they had to deal with were weak and unwell. He was rather alarmed to see that Sam, in spite of his injuries, seemed pretty vigorous and not at all enamoured of the idea of being caught. His reaction was, unsurprisingly, to take to the water.
The first manoeuvre was for the two men to sweep a long rope across the pond behind the swan. Sam outmanoeuvred everyone, hauled himself indignantly out of the pond and waddled angrily around the edge. Mr RSPCA attempted in vain to put the hook around his neck. Sam returned to the water, only to be subjected to the same treatment once more. As he flounced out of the water a second time he headed away from the pond towards a narrowing corner of the meadow with no exit. The guys saw their chance and the friend grabbed Sam, pinned his wings by his side and gently held his neck. At this point Sam gave in gracefully and allowed himself to be carried to the waiting van and put into the cage.
We are now waiting to hear how he is doing and where he will be re-homed. We are hoping his solitary life will be short-lived and that he will be put somewhere with other swans and find a mate. It will be slightly sad, though, not to open the bedroom curtains in the morning and see a young swan floating serenely across our neighbours’ pond. No doubt they will feel the same – mixed perhaps with relief that when their grandchildren visit they will not have to be told to keep away from a depressed teenage swan and the mess he made.
