The other day I posted those gorgeous pictures of swans. Today I saw their dark side! Take a look at this.
Now, I went to the scene of the attack on the goose just to check that there were no injured goslings, and there weren't, so that's good. Maybe the swan's bark is worse than his bite? Seriously, though, he - or she - was scary!! Did you notice how when the gander returned it was almost as if he paid obeisance to the swans? Going to them first before collecting the goose and babies?
When I went to check on the possible mutilated baby geese, and get some close ups of the swan on the nest, I was very receptive to any signals from the swans and as soon as I saw any sign that I was upsetting them, I backed away. Partly because I don't like upsetting other creatures and partly because I was a little afraid!
As it happens, I feel implicated in this. Earlier, I had gone to the place where I photographed the kingfisher and while there, I disturbed some geese. I think it might have been this goose family, who then moved away - to get some distance from me - and found themselves in the place the swans had decided was to be their nesting site.
It would have been awful had a gosling been hurt.
On the dark side of swans, I was talking to a friend whose son was with the New York City Ballet. She told me that once she went to three performances of Swan lake in successive nights. Each night a different ballerina danced the swan. It's the same person who does the black and white swan. She told me that the first danced it beautifully - perfect, but lacking some feeling. The second, a woman she really liked, was superb, making clear the tragedy of the woman being turned into the swan. The third was a woman she, my friend, thought was a little superficial and she didn't want to go, but she did and this was the best of the three performances as the dancer made apparent the joy of rebellion!
I wonder how a performance would be altered by someone watching that swan's huge wings beating in attack?
It made me think of Zeus. This is one of the best poems ever.
Leda and the Swan
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
Holy Moly! What a dramatic performance!! Glad nobody was hurt (including you). What amazing, serpentine necks on swans. They would no problem reaching any body part for preening. Or gathering nest material while sitting on the nest. I got a kick out of the ducks who just swam around and watched the show. And of course the famous poem.