It was around this time last year when I told this ‘Swan’s Tale’.
Like this year the winter didn’t really arrive until mid January. It was a glorious Sunday morning for a walk and the frost was forming tiny mountain peaks on the fence posts.
As I drew nearer to my destination of the small secluded lake behind our house, my attention was suddenly directed to the skies. That unmistakable whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop sound that meant the strained fly past of a swan was imminent.
But alas my vision of the ‘white giant’ was obstructed by the frost layered treeline, now completely stripped of its leafy mask.
Perhaps I’ll meet him drifting effortlessly on the lake in a moment or two? So exhausting to watch them fly, but how graceful they are afloat.
As I reach the lake I am greeted by more frost and a mirror-like sheen where the water would normally present to the world.
And there for all to see were the results of the bird equivalent of a 747 coming in to land on a sheet of ice! The white giant obviously not equipped with the right brakes for such an event. His landing well-marked on the surface.
His only saving grace was that I wasn’t there to capture his landing on camera. But as he waddled off into the distance I could sense his embarrassment…and so too could the ducks :)