How to Capture a Black Swan in Winter

When I was growing up in Kalamazoo, Michigan (yes, it's more than a line in a Dr. Seuss book), the fanciest restaurant in town was called The Black Swan. It has since become Martell's and is still well worth the visit!

The Black Swan was located within a kind of planned community called Parkview Hills that was designed to fluidly integrate apartments, condominiums, and individual houses with preserved nature. There are forests, marshlands, and waterways with pockets of residences throughout. On one side of a particularly wide section of Portage Creek is a beautiful clubhouse and opposite is Martell's, the once Black Swan. There is also a children's playground, and it is generally a very pleasant place to walk and enjoy nature.

For a time I lived with friends in a condo in Parkview Hills. I often took walks in all seasons because it was just such a beautiful place. One snowy day, I went out walking and took my camera along with the intention of sharing the pictures of my home with a friend who lived outside Los Angeles, California, a very different sort of environment to mine.

While I was snapping photos of the creek, I didn't realize for quite some time that I had a silent stalker trailing behind me in the water. It was only after going over the pictures on my computer later that I spotted him hiding along the bank. Well, not exactly hiding, but black feathers make for great camouflage against dark water. (I guess this goes to show that sometimes beautiful and rare things find you rather than the other way around.)

I did a double-take when I finally spotted his red beak, which stood out sharply against the white snow of the creekbank. I knew that the restaurant kept two black swans in the creek as mascots, and I had seen them often in the warmer months, but I was skeptical that they would stick around through winter and not fly off to Florida as did so many other local birds.

If the swans migrated and didn't return, I was told by neighbors, they just bought another pair. A bubbler had recently been installed in the middle of widest part of the creek to keep a patch of the water from freezing over, and this, apparently, was all it took to keep not only the swans, but several other birds from departing.

I was so taken by my silent new friend, who let me get surprisingly close to him for a picture, that I did not quite realize that I had been spotted by the Bird Mafia.

Yes, I said Bird Mafia. A mixed flock of birds headed by a particularly cocky goose had claimed a large area of the shore beside the restaurant, and I was unwittingly trespassing.

The Godfather Goose was gray with an orange beak. He reared his head when he saw me with the black swan and let out a honk, a signal to the hench-geese to fall in line behind him. The black swan drifted away from the bank. He probably knew what was coming. I did not.

I watched in amusement as one by one, the bird mafiosos climbed from the water onto the ice, then onto the shore. The Godfather Goose held his head high as he waddled determinedly toward me through the snow. I could tell this goose was on a mission, but I really didn't know what he was up to, so I took his picture.

When he got with a few feet of me, the other birds fanning out behind him, he leaned his head toward me...and hissed. I realized that this bird was not amused, and he did not want me there. As he stood his goosey ground, I backed away so quickly that I slipped and fell in the snow. The goose took another step toward me, hissing menacingly.

Message received! I thought. But I was on a sharp incline, and the snow was slick. I kept slipping and made no progress up the embankment. The Bird Mafia did not care. They closed in.

Desperately, I clawed my way up to the road then ran to the other side. When I looked back, the birds had lined up against the road opposite me. Evidently this was the edge of their turf. The gray goose stared me down and gave one final hiss before retreating and returning to the creek.

Down the embankment, in the water, I saw the black swan gently glide away.