Consequently, when school is out, I cycle trough the park. There's a road which is faster, but I enjoy the little trip through the trees.
It's a tiny park and most people, if they already go to the park, go to the bigger ones. Therefore it's mostly peace and quiet and I like to consider it my spot, my little park.
So, like I always do, on Monday morning i made way for the park. When I cycled across the bridge I noticed something had changed. Other than the loudly quacking ducks that spat up water as they chased each other, there now was a new bird in the pond.
Graceful as a swan she glided over the smooth surface, leaving nothing but soundless ripples. Snow white feathers cast back the light and her reflection shimmered in the water.
Enchanted by her beauty, I wanted to capture the imposing, whopping white bird. And as if she read my thoughts, instantaneously the swan swam towards me.
I took this first shot. She has an alluring beauty and yet in the way she raises her wings lies something threatening.
I took a step closer and suddenly, she hissed at me. Short and dangerous.
I instantly stumbled back, startled by the sound. It took a fool's notice to see she was angry.
I carefully took my distance, not wanting to upset her or feed her anger. I had read about angry swans once, and even though I didn't remember all of it, I remembered they weren't pleasant to be around when angry.
As I backed up foot by foot she did something strange.
It's a tiny park and most people, if they already go to the park, go to the bigger ones. Therefore it's mostly peace and quiet and I like to consider it my spot, my little park.
So, like I always do, on Monday morning i made way for the park. When I cycled across the bridge I noticed something had changed. Other than the loudly quacking ducks that spat up water as they chased each other, there now was a new bird in the pond.
Graceful as a swan she glided over the smooth surface, leaving nothing but soundless ripples. Snow white feathers cast back the light and her reflection shimmered in the water.
Enchanted by her beauty, I wanted to capture the imposing, whopping white bird. And as if she read my thoughts, instantaneously the swan swam towards me.
I took this first shot. She has an alluring beauty and yet in the way she raises her wings lies something threatening.
I took a step closer and suddenly, she hissed at me. Short and dangerous.
I instantly stumbled back, startled by the sound. It took a fool's notice to see she was angry.
I carefully took my distance, not wanting to upset her or feed her anger. I had read about angry swans once, and even though I didn't remember all of it, I remembered they weren't pleasant to be around when angry.
As I backed up foot by foot she did something strange.
She extended her long neck and laid her head to rest on the grass. She looked so serene and forlorn it was almost unrealistic, as if she was hiding her anger, trying to fool me.
I, and I'm ashamed to say I was still slightly scared, took my chance to jump on my bike and cycle off.
I, and I'm ashamed to say I was still slightly scared, took my chance to jump on my bike and cycle off.
The next few days when I cycled through the park, she swam along with me.
When I turned around, she turned around. If I stopped moving, she stopped moving.
She kept on following me until the edge of the pond wouldn't allow her to swim further, and I would exit the park.
Yesterday I was in that same park, shooting for the video in my previous post. The swan was there but had kept her distance. As I cycled out of the park I came across a small group of boys, who must have been around ten, eleven years old.
At home while selecting usable clips from unusable ones, I noticed that in the back ground the boys had been throwing stones, or maybe chestnuts, at the swan. Which got me slightly angry. Collection of inconsiderate baboons.
When I turned around, she turned around. If I stopped moving, she stopped moving.
She kept on following me until the edge of the pond wouldn't allow her to swim further, and I would exit the park.
Yesterday I was in that same park, shooting for the video in my previous post. The swan was there but had kept her distance. As I cycled out of the park I came across a small group of boys, who must have been around ten, eleven years old.
At home while selecting usable clips from unusable ones, I noticed that in the back ground the boys had been throwing stones, or maybe chestnuts, at the swan. Which got me slightly angry. Collection of inconsiderate baboons.
Today during my usual trip through the trees I stopped. I knew I had some bread leftovers and I mused whether I should or should not feed them to the swan. I got out my blue breadbox when I noticed the swan from the corner of my eye. Like she always did, she looked at me, floating on the water at the edge of the pond, two, maybe three meters away from me.
Therefore I was not surprised by her presence, but that was about to change. Out of nowhere she moved and jumped on the shore. Standing on her webbed feet she stretched, unfolding her wings, spreading them out wide while elongating her neck.
At that point I decided to make a run for it.
I left my bike then and there and made sure there was more than that one meter distance between me and the swan. She hadn't hissed, but she had stunned me and turned my legs into pudding
When there was a five meter distance I stood still, astonished yet alarmed, and turned around to see her. She didn't follow me, but kept walking around my bike. I didn't risk it to going back and awaited in the grass until she slowly waddled back to the pond and splashed in.
As I got up she already turned her head and raised her wings.
Looked like I wasn't getting back on the bike.
I walked across the waterfront, cautiously keeping distance between the swan and me, who followed my movements behind me.
I ran a part, which must have alarmed her, but I didn't know how else to gain terrain.
As I was far away enough I got the bread out of my breadbox and threw it in the water, as far away from the waterside as possible. Like I had hoped she would, the swan swam towards the crumbles and ate them without concerning my presence any longer.
Therefore I was not surprised by her presence, but that was about to change. Out of nowhere she moved and jumped on the shore. Standing on her webbed feet she stretched, unfolding her wings, spreading them out wide while elongating her neck.
At that point I decided to make a run for it.
I left my bike then and there and made sure there was more than that one meter distance between me and the swan. She hadn't hissed, but she had stunned me and turned my legs into pudding
When there was a five meter distance I stood still, astonished yet alarmed, and turned around to see her. She didn't follow me, but kept walking around my bike. I didn't risk it to going back and awaited in the grass until she slowly waddled back to the pond and splashed in.
As I got up she already turned her head and raised her wings.
Looked like I wasn't getting back on the bike.
I walked across the waterfront, cautiously keeping distance between the swan and me, who followed my movements behind me.
I ran a part, which must have alarmed her, but I didn't know how else to gain terrain.
As I was far away enough I got the bread out of my breadbox and threw it in the water, as far away from the waterside as possible. Like I had hoped she would, the swan swam towards the crumbles and ate them without concerning my presence any longer.
I then sprinted to my bike and made my sophisticated escape.
When I looked back, she had swiveled her head and was watching me.
Seconds later, as if she decided not to care, her gaze drifted off and she swam away.
It was an intriguing and strange encounter. She impressed me, and it almost felt as if she was demanding the respect. I am planning on trying to feed her next time I'll cycle through the park. Yet I'll very much stay high and safe on the bridge.
I just hope she won't jump up and fly.
When I looked back, she had swiveled her head and was watching me.
Seconds later, as if she decided not to care, her gaze drifted off and she swam away.
It was an intriguing and strange encounter. She impressed me, and it almost felt as if she was demanding the respect. I am planning on trying to feed her next time I'll cycle through the park. Yet I'll very much stay high and safe on the bridge.
I just hope she won't jump up and fly.