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Mute swans? |
28.09.2002 |
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Ó
Robert Burton |
I was on the river at dawn this
morning. There was just enough light penetrated for me to
see my way past overhanging trees. It was so peaceful; not a
breath of wind to disturb the mirror surface or move the
heavy mist. The squeak and splash of my oars was, however,
disturbing to some riverside inhabitants. Ducks, moorhens
and herons rose with alarm and there were loud and
unexplained crashes among the fringing reeds.
One persistent noise kept ahead of me
as I rowed. It was what I can only describe as an
‘explosive wheeze’. Eventually I could make out the
perpetrators when two dim white shapes glimmered in the
strengthening light and there was a hint of two dark grey
shadows in the pale mist. It was a family of mute swans
keeping a safe distance from my boat. (The two cygnets were
full-grown, unlike those in the photo taken in July, but
still grey-brown.)
Mute swans are not so dumb as their
name suggests, but it is only at quiet moments like this
that one is conscious of their voices. This wheezing was a
note of mild alarm at my unexpected approach. Mute swans
are, however, well-named when compared with Bewick’s and
whooper swans. The latter species have a range of loud
trumpeting and honking calls, including a regular
‘bonging’ chorus from a flock in flight. Mute swans have
no flight call but their approach is heralded by the
rhythmic, almost singing, rush of their wingbeats. It can
carry a mile or so and may have the same function of keeping
the birds in touch.
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