Tag Archives: Mute Swan

The Accuracy Paradox

There is a built-in inaccuracy to all my blog posts – I am not really the cheerful happy-go-lucky soul which I portray.

The real paradox though, is that I am, just before writing, one post behind my target. As soon as I start to write the words “I am one post behind” this has the effect of bringing into being the post that means I have caught up.

It means I’m never quite right with what I write. And to think that I thought the chronology was a problem…

Timewise I’m just about to start a post that shows some of the walk we undertook before the tea and biscuits I wrote about in the last post. This is my fault, I just found it easier to write about.

However, this is is a small time slip compared to the one that has occurred with the Scone Chronicles. I had one to write when I got shut out of WordPress and though I have been catching up I’m still not quite back in line. It’s a good one, but I seem to lack the relaxed time I want to just sit and write.

The swan was a bit too friendly and had no concept of personal space. I wasn’t using a zoom lens for that close-up, I was trying to pull back because I was so close I couldn’t get it all in the frame.

The stones on the hill have been put there by the water company as an homage to the various pre-historic stone circles of Derbyshire. To be honest with you, until I read that link I thought there were only three.

I have, to be honest, used the “Dramatic” setting for two of the shots. The other, taken into the sun with a newly-cleaned lens, did not turn out with quite as much flare as I was expecting. Clearly I need more dirt and finger marks on the lens if I’m going for maximum flare.

I’m now in a position to push the button and post. Then I will truly be able to say I’m up to date.


OK, you’ll have to take my word for it because, as usual, we didn’t get the photograph.

We went for a look at Budby Flash, because we wanted to see birds but didn’t want to walk. As we parked, Julia pointed at one of the feeders, where a Great Spotted Woodpecker was feeding.  The photos are a bit hazy because we took pictures through the windscreen rather than risk scaring it off.


Great Spotted Woodpecker – Budby Flash

When we did eventually get out of the car it flew off, as expected.

The feeders were full of tits with the odd robin, chaffinch and dunnock having a go. The robins, which normally pose so well, were too busy chasing each other, resulting in a lack of photographs. I got one poor shot of a coal tit but it was mainly a day for blue and great tits, with a visit from some long-tailed tits (who did their best to hide their faces).

While I was taking photos of the feeders Julia stalked round the trees that overhang the water by the bridge. A cry of surprise interrupted my photography and I turned just in time to see the eastern end of a westbound kingfisher. It managed to find a spot just round the corner, where it was still close, but hidden. I did think I’d spotted it later, but it was just a discarded beer can when I zoomed in.

Attacked by a swan

As the title suggests, I was attacked by a swan today. To add insult to injury, it wasn’t even a rare type of swan, just an ordinary, and innaccurately-named Mute Swan. In attack mode they can be quite vocal, with a range of hisses and low growling sounds. It doesn’t have the same blood-curdling effect of a snarling pitbull, but it is still a little off-putting, and definitely not mute.

Over the years I’ve often read that a single blow from the wing of an enraged swan can break a man’s thigh, but I’m doubtful. A quick search of the internet seems to support me.  However, none of the people discussing the damage a swan can do seems to know much about catching turkeys.

Each year we eat about 1.3 million turkeys in the UK. That means that 1,300,000 turkeys have to be caught, loaded onto lorries and moved to a processing plant. Although they now have mechanical help, in my day they were all caught by hand. Many of the experienced catchers wore cricket boxes to preserve themselves from injury. Think of frantically flapping wings meeting delicate parts of the anatomy, and things will become clear.

A swan is pretty much the same size as a big turkey. If I say that my leg wasn’t the first thing that I was worried about,Ii trust you will apprecuate my problem.

It started by getting aggressive with Julia, who was putting food down to attract photographic subjects. I  diverted it at that point by standing between the two of them and throwing some food about. That worked until it got bored and started trying to eat my trousers.

Swans are about 28 pounds and tall enough to come just past my waist. In truth it shouldn’t be a problem. I should be able to best it in single combat, but beating up a swan in a nature reserve doesn’t seem right. Swans in open water are owned by the Queen – I’m not sure what the exact legal position is, and whether self-defence is seen as a good excuse. Under the Countryside and Rights of Way Act 2000 the maximum punishment is £5,000 or 6 months in jail. If, on the other hand, it counts as treason due to royal ownership, I might end up in the Tower of London.


Mute Swan at Rufford Park

Fortunately it didn’t come to that. After a bit of trouser tugging and hissing from the swan and some grumbling from me, I used a handful of food to cover a strategic withdrawal.

It should have ended at that point, but a one-legged Greylag goose hopped up to the food and the swan grabbed it round the neck.

It was a dilemma – help the underdog or let the swan get away with it?

The goose was about half the size of the swan, has a leg that is permanantly tucked up to its body and has a damaged wing. It clearly needed help. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be incarcerated in the Tower of London.

I offered my trousers again, but got no reaction.


Mute Swan attacking Greylag goose

In the end, after a certain amount of shouting and posturing, we distracted the swan and fed it again as the goose scurried away.

It seems a bit unfair that the swan gets extra food for bad behaviour, but that’s how it goes.