Swanee, how I love ya ...

Swanee, how I love ya …

After returning from my Michigan trip in October I kept up with my weekly commitment at the Bird Treatment and Learning Center.

I had done a little presentation training with Kodi, the Northwestern Crow, but had not progressed in preparing my presentation yet.  It will come.  But progress stopped due to other commitments.

 

On October 26, a Trumpeter swan showed up. The story I heard was that the swan was left behind in Willow when others flew off to whatever swan resort and spa they go in the fall. But this swan could not fly.

A man who was watching these goings on knew the swan would not survive on its own and researched what they eat. He prepared food, making it up like waffles, and finally got it to come eat, then to come near him, then near enough to him to be caught. And the bird arrived at Bird TLC.

The swan received an exam and usually we all like to learn about a new bird coming into Bird TLC, condition, treatment, prognosis, etc. 

 The swan had had one of its wings partly amputated, near its wrist, or what I'd call my elbow. The wound was basically clean, but this bird would not be flying again … ever. The swan was being kept in a large pen at TLC, but there were issues. It needed to be in water as much as possible as swans spend most of their lives in the water. Problems could soon develop as it could become less waterproof for various reasons, and get sores on its feet due to its weight and being out of the water. The swan wasn't able to be rehabilitated, and it appeared it would have to be put down unless we could find a home for it.

The swan is a wild bird, but as soon as one would corner it, it would settle down pretty well.  Look at those feet.

I begged the Executive Director for its life. After all, while the swan would never fly, it was healthy otherwise. I was told that there had been no responses in trying to find a home, but that if I wanted to try to do that, I could. YES, I DID!!!
 

Swan face ... beautiful.

In addition, I said I'd take care of it as often as I could, pay for its food (not necessary although I did buy some duck and goose maintenance down the road when we ran out one day and some greens and spinach here and there). Some of us said we'd even pitch in with the costs to ship it to a new home if we needed to.

The swan became a huge part of my life as I went to the clinic many days over the months it was our guest, picking it up (sometimes not so gracefully, sometimes with it slipping from my grasp and being lowered gently to the floor only to have me pick it up again), taking it to a large plastic enclosure filled with water so it could swim, cleaning its enclosure by swapping out the sheets laying over mats and wooden frames with netting, cleaning up the old food, preparing new food, putting new containers with water inside. It was labor-intensive, but I was okay with it. The swan was beautiful, a young one with still-grey feathers, with some white beginning to show. I talked to it constantly, allowable because this swan while wild, would never be released.

Catching a swan is not the easiest of tasks, even in a pen.  We'd surround, then cover with a blanket and move it to a pond to swim.  Getting the swan out of the pen was even trickier, and usually one didn't win the battle without getting soaked.

A successful capture in the pen, and the swan was on its way to the pond to swim around for a bit.

The swan won this round.  I was wetter than it was.

Once we were able to use a pond we'd take the swan out and put it in a mew while we drained, cleaned and refilled it.  Time-intensive, but hey, a swan needs a clean pond.

 

Each time I visited I put the swan into the pond to swim for a while, then after cleaning, would pick it up and return it to the enclosure. Multiple times I would sit in the enclosure with it, with a towel partially covering it, blowing its unwaterproofed feathers dry with a hair dryer. It was a thrill to see the down fluff up, so soft, so white. What a way to spend quality time with a swan. That's not to say it wouldn't get stupid and hiss at me and run when I tried to catch it. It did. After all, it's a wild bird; however, you'd think it would get used to me after a while. But it never tried to bite me although I've heard swans can be rather cantankerous sometimes.

A swan always wants to look its best, but in this case it was a matter of the swan's feathers not being waterproofed.  Blow drying them would help keep it from getting cold.

Those big old feet had to be checked to make sure they weren't developing sores, which can be a disaster for a big bird like this that is usually spending most of its time in the water. 

The day came when the swan had to start spending all of its time in the swan pond. It had to be waterproofed, and the small sore that had developed on its foot could not be allowed to grow larger. This arrangement started a new method of cleaning. The bird had to be moved to another enclosure, many times flapping its wings and getting me quite wet. Sometimes it won; sometimes I won – considered when I wasn't the wettest of the two of us. The pond had to be drained, with me crawling into it to clean, refilled, and the filter and pump cleaned. I finally got the timing down to about an hour and a half. And yet, it was a labor of love for me. Who cares if I sprayed myself with water that has swan stuff (poop) in it, who cares that the swan scratched me (it's not as though it was on purpose and it does have rather large feet), who cares that it took time. It was time well-spent, time I have so enjoyed spending. And I've finally gotten the hang of picking up a swan … which to me is quite encouraging.

The swan was in the pond, with haul outs on both sides, and a mirror in the middle.  The swan really liked his mirror, and it worked in the middle as it kept in in the water most of the time.

When the swan would be sitting in an enclosure while the pond was draining, I'd talk to it, making pumping motions with my arm to mimic what it was doing with its head and neck, and I'd go in the enclosure and sit next to it. A gentle hand on its back would cause it to hunker down. I'd talk to it, and even take selfies, although in looking at them while the swan and I are sitting together, its head would look as though pulling away.

Maybe a selfie wasn't the best type of photo, but I couldn't help myself and have photographed the swan time after time.