Dear King (if may presume such intimacy?),
It has been a while and for that I apologise. It's not as though we haven't been keeping an eye on each other though. Do we be both know the other is there? You seem to watch me sometimes while I make sure to watch you often. If I shelter in the little summer house on my landing stage, where I find I can focus better on writing, I see you land and perch on the swan neck of my tiller. When you do that you are only two metres away from me. We are separated by that short distance and a pane of glass. Your colours are more glorious and bring me more joy than you will ever know. Are you shy, nervous, or are you playing a game? Do you know how much I want a good photograph of you? Although I have learned to sit and watch for extended periods I am sometimes tempted to reach for my phone to take the best photograph ever. As I move so do you. You take off and dart away down the river, hurtling mere centimetres above the surface until you reach your next perch. John the fisherman said you perched on one of his rods a couple of weeks ago. He was very pleased at your stereotypical pose. It's hard to avoid a tinge of jealousy when you share your favours so freely.
I don't know whether you and the cormorant are rivals for the same meal of fish. You, as with your cousins the herons, egrets and gulls are quite forensic in your approach to fishing. You watch, wait, dart and retrieve. I saw the moorhen making off with a small fish in its beak a couple of days ago. I didn't realise they were omnivorous until then, but I looked it up on a wildlife website and yes, they are; mainly pesca-vegetarians. I do wonder what cormorants do when they dive. Are they indiscriminate as they sweep into a shoal for lunch or do they pick off smaller fish one at a time; swallowing one before grabbing the next? Why would they hold their breath for so long if they only wanted one fish? I know when a submerged cormorant is near me because the fish scatter, many leaping to break the surface with a splash like the sound of falling dominoes, in tiny flashes of silver. In panic they will often knock into the hull as they dart to escape. Sometimes, the panic is caused by a pike and I know there are a few of those around at the moment. I've seen them reeled in by the anglers. I don't like the idea of catching fish simply for sport, but it would be untoward if I made a fuss. One of the anglers said there was a zander under my boat the other day. I didn't know they'd reached this part of the river, but I suppose it was only a matter of time since they are invasive and predatory. When someone is fishing nearby I try to show neighbourly interest without offering encouragement. It's a fine balance. For my part I prefer to watch the fish in their environment. The view into the water is only clear on still and sunny days when the sun is high over the opposite bank. Most of the time the surface is almost opaque making fish only visible when they come very near the surface or nibble at a piece of passing jetsam much of which has been discarded by nearby plantlife. When the water is dark I watch for the v-shape that breaks the surface denoting what I have always imagined to be the passage of a pike deeper down. Those v-shapes move at speed.
There are three or four swan families that pass this way. I have kept an eye on one special family since they were eggs in the nest on the opposite bank. Eight cygnets hatched earlier in the summer and grew in their juvenile plumage. One day there were only seven. I thought one must have fallen foul of a predator, pike, mink, fox ...? Then, a few days later, there were eight cygnets again. This time they were chasing away the runt, the one that had yet to begin to develop its white feathers of adulthood. This behaviour continued for a several days and I assume the poor young thing eventually got the message and left because, now once again, there are only seven cygnets. Strangely, the cob has been absent over the past couple of weeks. Swans mate for life, but perhaps he has a bigamous family elsewhere? Perhaps he decided he needed time out from the kids. The pen is still with them. If I go out when they are near, or if I open the galley window, they come to greet me. I'd like to think it was for the conversation, but I suspect they want an easy meal. I don't make a point of feeding them, because I rarely have any scraps. They would reach up and take food from my fingers if I offered it. Yesterday, the family came by. One of the cygnets had what appeared to be a fishing float poking from its beak. I suspect it had taken a hook from a discarded fishing line. They left before I could do anything helpful. I looked up the nearest RSPCA wildlife centre and phoned. I was subjected to a many branched tree of options. By the time I got to option five I'd forgotten options two and three. I pressed the wrong button and halfway through the next speech I was cut off. I sent them an e-mail message, but have not yet had an acknowledgement or a reply. The office is not attended regularly because of the virus situation. Swans are now also victims of covid.
Stay well, my friend.
marsh
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