Whooper swans are in short supply around Mayo
COUNTRYFILE
IT'S only just got properly light and it's nearly dark again already!
Even the rooks are confused. No sooner do they leave their roost, they have to start making their way back again.
I went to watch them coming home and was surprised at their number.
At first they appeared in twos and threes, then it was by the dozen, and then in great skeins several score strong.
While we are used to seeing 100 or 200 together now and then, this was an extraordinary sight.
My task now is to find exactly where it is they are spending their nights and to lie in wait with the camera.
In just a few weeks the rooks will be bonding and migrating between sleeping and feeding quarters in pairs.
That makes a beautiful sight. Who can tell what stirs the heart of these simple creatures. Is this only a functional thing, or do they feel affection?
Other birds display emotion more openly.
Just look at the swans, how they protect their favourite territories from others of their kind. Not one of us could mistake the anger provoked by the intrusion of an itinerant pair into the home water of another.
Wings are raised, the head drops between the shoulders on a poised loop of neck, the beak opens and the bird hisses its displeasure in the plainest of terms while pursuing the uninvited and unwanted guest the length and breadth of the bay.
There seems no correlation between the size of a male mute swan and its ability to clear intruders from its territory.
The incoming cob does his best to maintain a respectable distance and avoid confrontation. Only in open water does he make any attempt to defend himself. Then the action is dramatic, sometimes frantic.
Should we get this spell of proper cold the weatherman warns about they will be forced to get along a bit better, yet when the air warms again the dispute will once more be entered.
I don't know why they bother – the resident male will remain dominant and the other will once more retire to the far shore, where he and his mate nest each year.
These swans generally keep the same partner as long as that one remains alive, though in exceptional circumstances a switching of partners has been recorded. Do they find another mate following the death of one or the other?
Research suggests that yes, they can and do – though only after what can only be described as a period of grieving, during which the surviving mate will remain solitary or perhaps head off to join a non-breeding flock.
While the rooks were heading across the lake to roost, a number of whooper swans flew in from the east. They sing, if it can be called that, as they fly. In fact, the cacophony of sound made by even a small flock of these north European birds can be heard long before they themselves actually come into view.
Despite the fact that the swans flew between the rooks at something of an angle, neither species appeared to pay any heed to the other, apart from making a slight adjustment in order to avoid a collision.
One observer tells me that whooper swans are in short supply this year, and that some fields they traditionally graze are devoid of them altogether.
Perhaps the weather in Iceland or Greenland has not been sufficiently cold to drive the flocks south.
Certainly, if this promised drop in temperatures does occur we shall see an influx of many bird species.
Then, if we can drag ourselves away from the fire, we shall find a great deal of interest in out-of-the-way places, enough to keep us going those couple of weeks before the days begin to stretch.