The cc welcomed a new member this past week. This is him.
The cc has always had a pair of swans. Several weeks ago the male of the pair ( which I have since learned is called a cob ) died, due to an unfortunate accident. He was hit in the head by a golf ball.
Swans pair up for life, and an un-mated female ( which I have learned, is called a pen) would be an un-happy, and perhaps not long for this world, pen. The pen in question here is 11 years old. As it turns out swans live 20-30 years in ‘controlled environments’ ( like say the ponds of a country club golf course ). So it was determined that the cob should be replaced. And here is another interesting fact I learned about swans. They pick their mates at about 2 years of age. After that you really can’t break up a pair without serious consequences for both birds. Which means the cc either had to find a cob who had also recently lost his mate, or get a 2 year old un-mated male. And of course it was much easier to find a 2 year old un-mated male, then a recently widowed cob. They found said un-mated male in Cleveland of all places. He was flown out ( on a plane, they didn’t make him fly himself ) last week and seems to be happy and busy inspecting his new home. And mate.
So I don’t know about you, but I have been thinking. About the possible devious nature of swans. Pens in particular. The pair always SEEMED happy out there paddling around the ponds together. But who knows what the true state of the relationship was? Perhaps he was bossy. Or a wimp who didn’t stand up to the ducks and geese. Or perhaps he had gotten slow and dumpy in the pen’s eyes. And perhaps she thought to herself that it was time for a change. That a nice young stud would be just the thing. And so she waited and watched and when she saw a golfer standing in a particular spot, and aimed in a particular direction, she suggested to the cob that she was sure there was something nice and tasty to eat if he looked just THERE. And presto. The old cob is history and a handsome young thing is plopped down in her ponds. I mean they seem very serene out there gliding along. But you really don’t know what lurks in the heart of a swan now do you?
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