Concerts, courting and home building down by the water
COUNTRY FILE
HOW good it is to live beside the water! Every morning is a concert of birds, not only from the trees around the house but from the lake, where moorhen, coot and great crested grebe accompany dabchick and water rail in greeting the day.
That isn't all they are doing, of course. This is a busy time for them all. There is courting to be done, followed by the building of nests and the guarding and protection of the same.
It is now, at the start of April, that our mute swans show themselves anything but mute. They too have their territories, the boundaries of which are constantly being tested by swans next door.
One male, or cob, is determined that the bay adjacent to the one he has already claimed should also be his. He is not content to share, and even if he was I doubt his neighbour would feel the same way.
He strays over some invisible or imaginary line with his wings arched high above his back. His head is held low, between those two sets of strong primary feathers. His feet propel him yards at each powerful stroke as he makes a show of patrolling at the edge of the reeds. Every aspect of his demeanour indicates a possessive sense of ownership.
The problem is that his nemesis feels the same way. I see this second bird drifting toward the intruder, uttering a succession of barely audible purring sounds as a warning.
The first raises his head on a long, sinuous neck to hiss his intentions while his mate hangs back, preening her feathers with quiet assurance, as if the business at hand is already sorted.
It is not. The two males circle, barely ten paces apart. The second assumes that same defiant and aggressive posture, so that after a moment or two it becomes impossible to tell one from another.
They become increasingly vocal, expressing themselves with a wide range of sounds that include further hissing, clicks and whistles together with a low, throaty grumble.
By now both females are taking more of an interest in proceedings. After all, the size of their breeding and feeding territories is being decided. Swans whose offspring have access to larger territories will fare better than those that are in some way restricted.
The truth is there is room enough out there for far more swans than we will ever see. The lake grows ample food in the form of various water weeds that form the bulk of their diet. And there are countless hidden corners where swans could build their great raft of a nest.
But no, there are things that must be talked about and sorted out. The talking was taking place before my eyes. Both birds were assertive, that was evident. They were also intransigent; there could be no kind of deal struck – one or the other would have to vacate the premises or there would be trouble.
And trouble there was. I had seen these two attempting to negotiate before, with the result always the same. There would be an inclination toward violence, with one eventually retreating before a blow was struck. A chase across the lake was inevitable, with feet and wings striking the surface in a half-run, half-flight.
Surely that would be enough to settle matters. And ordinarily that would be the case.
Not so today! The two met in brutal combat, striking with those huge wings and biting at each others heads with sharply toothed bills.
After half a minute they appeared to come to their senses and retreated, each to his own bay and his own mate. Both have one eye over their shoulder. They are not finished yet.