As you may remember from last week I spent one summer in the mid 80s working at a rehab on the San Juan Islands. I have already recounted my meetings with Frank and Blanche the raccoon and sea otter that I met there. The final feathered friend I made there was “the swan” and I use the term friend loosely.
I’m sure he/she had a name but I don’t remember it, the swan was the Pet of an island resident. You may not know that swans mate for life and after the surviving its mate that had died suddenly and unexpectedly he/she had refused to eat for several days and just sat in one place looking forlornly. The Pet owner was worried that this swan might die of a broken heart so he brought it to the veterinarian to see what she could do for it. If you’ve never been close up to a swan you would likely be shocked at how big they really are. With no better place to set her up with food and water, the only bathroom in the house became her living quarters. People moved in and out of the bathroom all day long and the swan sat unmoving and seemingly uncaring about any of the activity around it. We all worried about the swan and hoped her heart would mend before she too got sick and died. At first, going into the bathroom was a little intimidating as the swan seemed “hard to read”. After a few days it became no big deal as he/she never seemed to pay attention to anyone or anything. That is until I became a victim of swan frustration/anger or whatever it is I experienced.
One afternoon I rushed into the bathroom to use the facilities, turned around to drop my pants and with lightening speed got nailed repeatedly and with intent (literally like an out of control staple gun) on the backside by the swan’s beak. After a second of wondering what hit me, I scooted around to the other side of the toilet and out of the swans reach. So there I was-trapped in a bathroom behind a toilet by the biggest bird I had ever seen! The previously demure swan was glaring right at me and I was afraid to move and was certainly not going to try and run past her because I knew I wouldn’t make it unscathed. No telephone, cell phone, or megaphone within sight my only choice was to stay put, so I crouched down and waited for rescue. Finally after what seems like hours someone tried to turn the doorknob and found it locked. I relayed my dilemma, a key was found and I was finally able to leave the bathroom as someone distracted the swan. After all that activity he/she promptly at a meal and started to preen (groom)-a good sign. Her owner was called to report the swan had recovered and was ready to go home. I have never ever looked at a swan in quite the same way as I did before the “incident”.
