Walking. Swan-less.

~ Live & Learn

5:35 a.m.

Dark. Wet. Rain. 43° F. I pan through the hour by hour Weather Channel Forecast:

5 am: “Light rain.”
6 am: “Light rain.”
7 am: “Light rain.”
8 am: “Light rain.”

and so on, hourly until 7 pm.

“Wintry mix likely for the next several hours.”

I sit up in bed. No chance, you are going out in that.  

Mind drifts to my Swan. She’s out there. Rain, raining down on her coat.

I google ‘swans’ to find Biology of Swans. “Swans have about 25,000 feathers on their body – the vast majority of these are tiny, little feathers situated round the head and neck.” 

Somehow this puts me at ease. For a moment.

25,000 feathers must keep her warm, as she dives to feed in the frigid waters of The Cove. She can’t be cold. She can’t be hungry. 25,000 feathers.

I pull the covers up, and close my eyes. Damn it. I need to get to The Cove.So, it’s one quick walk around around The Cove. Weather Channel: “Light Rain?” Bah. Nothing ‘light’ about what’s raining down on me.

No Swan.

It’s back in the car, and to the top of Weed Avenue, and then back again.

No Swan.

And yet, 1 more time.

“Neither snow nor rain nor anything keeps these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

And completion it was

Swan-less.

Notes:

28 thoughts on “Walking. Swan-less.”

  1. Ah damn, pal, I know that had to be disheartening. On the plus side, maybe she’s found a little hidey hole where she’s tucked in warm *and* dry and she’ll see you when the weather is more hospitable. Gorgeous photos regardless. Stay safe in this nasty weather….

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  5. It’s hard, but we have to leave wild animals their mysteries. (Yes, cats AND swans, lol.) Their instinct always is to survive whatever Nature throws at them; we’ll all just have to hope with you that she’s sleeping soundly in some less rainy, less open spot.

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  6. I like this last response! Wild animals are mysterious, yet I can’t help but Be anxious. Through your eyes, I have grown to love this beautiful animal. Having some of my own experience with them, I know that swans are sturdy and survivors. We can only hope this is true for her.

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  8. She is hunkering down and taken a time out. With the change of weather I’m sure you will see her. Nature takes care of its own.
    Now go back and keep cozy in this bitter storm ☃️🧤😊

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  10. Consequently, the other day I thought gosh you are more dependable than our mailman…esp., when snow falls, here, it can be days before it graces our box../// As far as your beautiful photos during inclement winter weather…I see the yellow light in the distance home… as a grounding, homing beacon in the midst of a still life, awakening with each second of illumination of dawn’s light, settling in, revealing…the movement of the tide, creasing as it pulls away from the shore…shore birds start moving and your swan is holding her own…wise enough to stay, tucked in, cuddled, settled against the elements…emerging, instinctively when the time is right…/// on another note: one of my sisters (a red head) in Wednesday’s email…expressed her dislike: ‘I hate late fall, I hate winter, I hate early spring. I like late spring, summer and early fall. Where can I move?? ” and I know that the dankness settles, deep in people’s bones and makes one very thankful for electricity, wool socks, hats, scarves,gloves and warm broth…and the beauty of the seasons…the promise of Spring’s emergence, soon…delights,

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  11. I just got this!! Grrr…anyway, I love that you refer to the swan as ‘yours’, for I think of her/him that way too. My hunch is that hanging out with the geese can be exhausting – their honks sound like their old ladies gossiping relentlessly – anyone would need a break. There may be no joy in Muddville pal – but I’m sure its’ temporary.

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