BILL THE SWAN

by Floyd Bralliar 

THE story of Bill is different from that of any of the other creatures in this book in that he and I have never met, nor have our paths crossed. I know him only by reputation.

In the summer of 1926 I was telling nature stories to a group of patients and helpers at the Pisgah Sanitarium, a few miles west of Asheville, North Carolina. At the close of my talk, a promi­nent minister who was present came forward and spoke to me. He told me a very unusual and interesting swan story, the events of which had occurred a few weeks before while he was staying at Orlando, Florida. The story was so unusual that I, thought I would make sure it was true before telling it to others.

I had friends in the Orlando Sanitarium, some of whom I expected to see soon, so I decided to wait and ask them about the story. But as it happened I did not have to wait. About a week later I met a nationally known educator who said .he had been stopping in Orlando for a few months for his health. I immediately related to him the story I had heard and asked him if he knew any­thing about it. He said he did, that it had hap­pened while he was in Orlando; and he was able to give me many facts I had not before learned.

Later I saw my friends, one at a time, from whom I received the remaining facts that make up this story. I have gone to the trouble to check up everything in the story, confirming every point by several people who were in Orlando when it happened, and so I believe there is no doubt that this story is true. Though I have not as yet had the privilege of becoming personally acquainted with Bill and his family, I hope to do so in the near future. 

Bill is a common European swan, the kind we usually see in the city parks. I did not give him his name in order to make this story sound better. He has been called Bill for more years than most of my readers have lived, and he seems to know his name as well as you know yours.

Bill became a resident of the Orlando city parks over forty years ago. I do not know where he came from, or anything of his early history. It was probably not greatly different from that of the average tame swan. When grown he selected a mate from the young swans with whom he was acquainted, and became very fond of her. Swans mate for life, and as Bill was thoroughly domestic in his ways he was devoted to the mate of his choice. He would doubtless be living with her yet but for the events related in this story.

For forty years they had been inseparable, feeding together on whatever the keeper gave them, or fishing together for succulent roots of water plants in the bottom of their lake. Bill was a powerful swan and did not hesitate to fight other swans if they attempted to eat anything that he considered belonged to his mate, and he always gave her any titbit that came his way.

And truly she was a beautiful swan, as large and as graceful as a bird could well be. Her plumage was as white as driven snow and no swan looked more majestic than she as she floated over the lake, and none could reach more deeply for water plants that grew in the bottom of the lake, save only Bill himself.

She always selected the most desirable place in the park for her nest, for among birds it is always the mother's privilege to decide where the nest is to be located and how it is to be built. In fact, the female of many species of birds never allows her mate to do any of the actual work of building the nest. He may find nesting material and carry it to her, but she insists on placing it. In some few species he does not even help provide nesting material.

As I said, Bill's mate always selected the place she thought the most desirable for her nest, but it was Bill who fought with wing and beak to drive away any other swan who might covet the place she had selected. And such battles were usually necessary, and often they were fierce; for until every other swan on the lake had chosen a nesting place and actually built a nest, no spot she had selected was secure; for birds seldom respect prop­erty rights and do not hesitate to select a nesting place that suits them even though a nest is already there.

When the egg laying began, Bill was never very far from the nest, and woe to anything or anybody that attempted to disturb that nest. As before stated, he was an unusually large swan, and a fully grown swan is almost as large as a sheep. It is able not only to strike a terrific blow with its wings, but can dart its long neck forward like a flash and strike a blow with its beak that is not to be despised. I have known a swan with a single blow of its beak to send a savage dog howling in pain.

A swan builds, her nest by wallowing a depression in the ground in some secluded spot, usually near the water, and lining it with straw or grass, inside of which is another lining of feathers and down plucked from the bird's own breast. The bird is always careful to cover the eggs with this down and grass before she leaves the nest, partly to keep the eggs warm, and partly because dead grass and feathers are not so likely to be seen as eggs would be by anything that happens by. When she comes back to the nest, she comes directly from the water and so her feathers are wet. This keeps the eggs from drying out too much to hatch well. Swans seldom lay less than six or more than twelve eggs in a clutch and they usually lay only one clutch in a year.

When Bill's mate was ready to sit, he always did his share of the sitting, taking his turn while she was away feeding; and when the eggs hatched, both parents cared for the young. This was necessary, for even in a park, baby birds are in danger of being injured, especially by dogs or children. Bill was always gentle with children; but if they attempted to catch any of his baby swans, he would rush at them and hiss so fiercely that it would have been a brave boy indeed who would have gone farther. If they did not stop, he would even nip their legs or pull their clothes; but this was seldom necessary.

As Bill's mate grew older she became very fond of sweet food, and seemed never satisfied unless some one was admiring her. She learned that picnic parties had most delicious food, and that ladies and children, and even men, would usually feed and admire her if shecame near when they were eating. Soon many of the people who frequented the park. learned that she was very fond of bread and cake, and they often brought some­thing to her, especially after she had learned it was safe to eat from their, hands. As she grew older, she came to spend much time on the banks of the lake, waiting for her friends to come and feed her, or even following them about, begging for food. Bill never approved of this. He liked bread and cake well enough, but he never considered it good manners to beg for anything. For some time he had occasionally protested at her waywardness, but things did not grow really serious till in the early spring of 1926.

That year, Mrs. Bill made her nest early in the spring, in a desirable spot on a small island in the lake, and laid her eggs as usual; but when it came time to sit, she simply would not attend to business. Bill would take his turn sitting, and would remain on the nest far beyond his fair share of the time, even when he was hungry, while his silly mate spent most of her time tagging after any women and children who might happen to be in the park.

When she finally came to relieve Bill, he would get no farther than the good feeding grounds around the island out of sight from the nest before she would
desert the eggs and go off to enjoy herself again.

Finally Bill learned what was going on. In fact, he could scarcely fail to find out; for she was seldom on the nest when he came back to take his turn. He soon began to be uneasy, and when it was his feeding time he would eat only a few bites and then swim back to see if all was well at the nest. He soon became irritable and would hunt his mate and drive her back to the nest when he found her gone; but this did not seem to do much good. Though she went to her nest readily enough and settled down quietly, she would leave it again as soon as she dared.

One morning, things seemed to be going even worse than usual. Bill just could not persuade his mate to attend to her household duties. Four times he drove her onto the nest, only to have her leave it as soon as he was out of sight. When he found her gone the fifth time, he lost all patience. He forgot her faithfulness for years. He forgot the happy years they had lived together without a shadow of trouble. He was tried beyond endurance.

He found her following some children on the bank far from the nest, but she took to the water as soon as she saw him coming. He overtook her, caught her by the back of the neck, and pushed her head under the water. In terror she struggled and tried to get free; but he was larger and stronger than she, and he had a firm hold. Never before had he been other than gentle with her, and she had not feared to let him grasp her. He held her head under the water till she went limp and ceased to struggle. He had drowned her.

Slowly he swam to the nest dragging her lifeless body after him. He dragged her out of the water and tried to get her to the nest. Perhaps he did not realize that she was dead. Possibly he only meant to teach her a lesson she would remember. When he found he could not get her onto the nest, he took the place himself and brooded the eggs for hours. The keeper of the park allowed his dead mate to lie for several days where he had left her, and throngs of people came to gaze on the swan who would not sit on her eggs and to see her mate who had drowned her because of her waywardness.

But in time the carcass had to be moved, and soon Bill found there was no use to sit on the eggs longer. They were already spoiled. They had been neglected too long.

If Bill missed his mate or felt remorse for having drowned her, he never showed it. He had been true, to her and had always shown her the greatest affection; but she had proved unworthy, and he had drowned her. Evidently all love for her had died before he drowned her. He never seemed to care.

There were other swans living on the lake. Among these was a young female who had never had a mate. Jennie was only two years old. Bill had paid no attention to any other swan but his mate for more than forty years, but now she was dead. He had no family, for her last eggs would not hatch.

One day he swam down the lake feeding on tender young grass roots and such other food as the lake affords. He saw Jennie near by and swam over to her. They swam around on the lake and fed together, and seemed to be having a good time. Neither had a mate and both were lonely. The spirit of spring and of mating was in the air. He was very much pleased with Jennie. She liked him. All of the other swans had mates, but she had none, and Bill was a very large, handsome swan. They liked each other so that they finally decided to mate and build a nest.

Jennie soon had a nest and a clutch of eggs. Bill watched her and helped care for the eggs as carefully as could be. In due time they hatched seven baby swans.

Now Bill was happy again. He and Jennie were never separated, and they took the very best care of their family. Bill was very proud of Jennie and his new family and showed it in every way.

Now there were more swans on the lake than the keeper of the park cared to have; so he gave three of these children of Bill and Jennie to the Orlando Sanitarium for the lake on their grounds. They were almost grown and were putting on their white coats. Young swans are a dull brownish color till they are about grown.

Everything went fine till the next year, when the time for mating had come. Then it proved that the Sanitarium had two male swans and one female. Both of these males set about in every way known to swans to court the favor of the young lady swan. It was really serious to them; for only one could win her, and there were no other swans on their lake, and they knew no other swans, for they were not allowed to leave their lake, and no other swans ever came to see them.

Finally she made her choice, and one of the swans became her mate. Now they two were perfectly happy and swam about the lake together all day long. Soon they built them a nest, and she started laying eggs.

But the rejected swan was not satisfied. He did not want to be left alone, and he was not willing to accept his defeat. He swam after the, happy pair day after day, in spite of the fact that they made it very plain that he was not welcome. They drove him away many times, but he would not stay. He was clearly making himself obnoxious to them. One day he was particularly persistent in following them, so they both set on him and drowned him to get rid of him.

Now I am wondering if this is a custom among swans. I never heard of it before, but; here are two cases where swans drowned one of their fellows who did not do as they thought he should.

Bill and Jennie are still living together as happily as can be and their children are still on the lake at the Sanitarium: Any of my readers who happen to be at Orlando may see them and can probably learn many other interesting things about them.

 

The Swan (Cygnus olor)

THE term swan belongs to any one of the rather large group of birds belonging to the order Cygnina. There are three subfamilies in this order. Our most common domesticated swan belongs to the genus Cygnus. All members of this genus hold their necks in the form of a letter S when swimming, and all of them are exceedingly graceful birds. Because the common swan is almost silent, it is called Cygnus olor, or the mute swan. It is the wild swan most com­mon in Europe. For over two thousand years this swan has been kept in parks much as it is now, yet it has never become entirely domesticated. It would usually migrate in the fall and spring, if its wings were left in their natural state.

It is rather difficult to raise these birds, though they are easily kept after they are grown, and they have been known to live almost a century. But tame swans have never become common or cheap.

Two species of swans were wild in enormous numbers in America even so recently as fifty years ago. They were both members of that group of the order that forms the genus Cygnina. These swans have a peculiarly bent windpipe that causes them to utter a peculiar whoop­ing sound. Our whooping swan, still found in some parts of the country, is an example of this. It is known as Cygnus buccinator.

But our largest and most famous swan was the trumpeting swan, Cygnina columbianus. It has almost entirely disappeared. Only a half century ago millions of them could be seen on the lakes and rivers of the Mississippi valley, especially at migrating time.

Their size and beauty was their misfortune. Every hunter liked to boast of having killed a swan, and every hunter's wife liked to boast of her swan's-down pillows. They disappeared as the settlers moved westward. They made their last stand in Yellowstone National Park, and had it been possible to break them of their migratory habit they might have been saved. Although they are carefully protected by law, there is little doubt that they will soon disappear entirely, for too many men will disregard all law if they get a chance to shoot a rare bird.

Those wishing more information about swans are referred to the story of a pet trumpeting swan told in the author's book,-"Knowing Birds Through Stories."