By popular demand (of one), we shall do a swan post today. If you haven’t already, read my previous post — Bitten by a swan — because that one is better than this one.
But then come back here again because she will be sad if you don’t:
I had a conversation with Piers about swans in England last Saturday when we visited Poole Park. There’s a popular attraction at the park called Swan Lake, which lures throngs of visitors daily to help keep the waterfowl population alive with stale bread.
Anyway, the conversation went something like this:
Me: I love the swans in England! They’re so friendly and nice!!
Piers: What? Friendly? They tried to eat you alive!
Me: They didn’t. They were just saying hello.
Piers: They bit you!
Me: Just a nibble.
Piers: They are violent, manic creatures from your darkest nightmare!
Me: No, not really.
So, obviously, Piers and I had very different ideas how our day should proceed.
His itinerary was to try his best not to get his arm broken.
My plan was to try and hug a swan.
He tried to warn me that their wings are so strong they can break an adult human arm with a swipe. So I did some Googling and found that it’s a thing all English parents tell their kids, but no one is really sure whether it’s true or not.
The swans at Swan Lake seem pretty sweet to me. They come up to you when you approach, expecting food. If you fail to give them any, they bugger off.
Okay, fine, that isn’t so sweet, but it’s smart, so that’s something.
We didn’t bring any bread because we had just been driving around aimlessly when the sun came out and the day turned beautiful and Piers thought it would be a good idea to take me to Poole Park.
Perhaps he thought to feed me to the swans as a quick and easy way to deal with my overstaying in England.
Especially since I’m breaking his furniture piece by piece when he’s not looking.
In my defence, it’s really hard work, breaking furniture. Takes months of training in Wing Chun to break wood with bare hands.
Unfortunately for Piers, I’m quite sure the swans love me, even if I didn’t have any bread, so they weren’t about to eat me.
The lure of bread was too great, though. I had almost succeeded in hugging this one unsuspecting swan when he suddenly discovered that his brothers and sisters were having fun playing Catch with bits of bread tossed in the air.
Immediately, he belly flopped into the water and swam off to join in the fun.
Just as well. Maybe I don’t really want to be the one to find out for sure whether these pretty birds can karate chop my arm right off.
So, you see, swans are entirely bribable, which makes them nice and sweet.
(Note that this premise does not apply to humankind. Bribable humans are not likely to be nice and sweet, so keep your stale bread to yourself.)
((Give them the mouldy ones, instead.))
Next time, I’ll hug a swan for real. After I buy some body armour. And expensive French bread to sweeten the deal.
I mean, it might be a myth, swans breaking arms, but one can never be too safe.
Now, enjoy the rest of the photos! =)
Swans enjoy dunking their heads into the water for ages.
Waiting on the road to be the first to receive bread donations.
This one swan among the rest had an almost colourless beak. Felt sorry for him, somewhat.
This is how you walk a swan.
Beautiful Swan Lake.
Swans, seagulls and geese sharing a meal of grain.
Family feeding the birds.
Seagull riding on the back of a swan as the swan herd crowd around the family.
Lone ranging swan decides to come for the feast.
I promise this will be the last swan post.
For a while, anyway.
Feel free to make more demands for more swan posts, though. For example, perhaps someone would like to see Piers get eaten by a swan? Things like that.
Piers is a very nice, accommodating fellow, so I’m sure he won’t mind helping me with that post!