DAN'S PAPERS, May 16, 2008 Page 24 www.danshamptons.com
Swan
(continued from previous page)
only for the swans, but also for the humans, who pass this spot in their cars just a dozen feet or so from where they are, day after day and night after night, without harm coming to either the swans or the people. About two weeks ago, well along on this vigil, a sign appeared, black letters on a white background, on a stick pushed into the ground. PLEASE KEEP A SAFE DISTANCE FROM THE SWANS, it says. One week ago, nature began to take its course under that mother swan. Inside the eggs, each chick had grown what is called an egg tooth, a small pointed protuberance on the top side of the chick’s beak that when the time comes, can be used to tap a hole through the egg from the inside.
It is an astonishing thing to listen to that tap, tap, tap. But to the best of my knowledge, no humans heard the tapping under this particular swan when the time came. Tap, tap, tap. The sound is heard by the mother. She takes note of it. In a few minutes the tapping is picked up by a chick inside another egg. Tap, tap, tap, tap. And then by another chick and another. Pretty soon, all the chicks who have survived in those eggs — it’s usually about half of the eggs laid — begin with their own tapping. And after ten minutes or so, the taps are in unison, rhythmic taps, a chorus of baby birds announcing themselves, announcing that they will soon be getting out. In a way, it makes no sense. In theory, since the eggs have been laid one a day, you would think
We Make Moving Easy!
(ILL 3T 3OUTHAMPTON SOUTHAMPTON:631-283-3000 • EAST HAMPTON:631-329-5601 • 800-827-MOVE www.despatchmovers.com NYDOT# T12050 1141312
that the first chick would be 15 days further along on the birthing process. But it isn’t. When the tapping starts, it’s the sign that all the chicks in the eggs must tap. And they will all very soon, in a matter of just an hour or two, begin to hatch under there, almost all at the same time. How could this be? No one really knows. But there are those who say that incubation doesn’t really begin for a baby swan until all the eggs are sat upon at the same time, although that doesn’t make any sense either. The result of this, however, is that mother is not made crazy. She has to nurture them, keep them under her wing for three or four days so they are strong and smart enough to stay away from predators. And then she lets them out all at once. And off they go. You can already see them in the pond at certain times of the day. They are brown and grey little creatures, with a sort of unkempt fur that sticks out every which way as they splash around. And though they are a bit weak at first, they are born knowing how to swim, walk, eat and dry themselves in the sun. Then, when they’ve had enough of the outside world, they climb back up to the top of the nest where mother is waiting for them. And she lifts up her wings a few inches in welcome, and invites them under for a few more days, or for however long it takes before they just don’t want to come back at all. There are no stragglers. And if she is up there on the nest, still waiting, it means that she is still sitting on eggs that have not hatched, and will not hatch. The chicks inside did not make it. And it will take a little while before she begins to understand that. As all this is going on, you may have seen mallards swimming around. The father accepts them. They are there because they have their own families to take care of in their home on Town Pond. Then there are these beautiful white egrets arriving and standing awkwardly around, feet in the mud, long beak sometimes five feet up. These ARE a problem. Given a chance, they will poke holes in the unhatched eggs and sip out the contents. Father is there, old Mr. Wary Eye. This is not going to happen on his watch. Occasionally, the father and mother take their new family of chicks in something resembling a line and take them for a paddle, stopping for a few bugs here and a few bugs there. They learn about turtles. Turtles are bad. Given a chance, they will grab a baby and take it away. Better to all stay in the group at this time. I was down at Town Pond around 6 p.m. on Monday night. I saw no babies. But mother was all arranged low and wide on her nest, almost like a skate. Under her wings where I could not see them would be the little black and grey and fuzzy babies, sleeping comfortably. Amidst them, for sure, were more unhatched eggs, which would never hatch. But she was still not persuaded. I walked over to have a good look at her. Her long neck was lying on her feathers, relaxed, feeling good about life on this planet. At the end of the neck, the eyes and beak were closed. She was asleep. As for father, from across the pond, he immediately gave me the full, evil eye. Stay away. Uncomfortable, I said a little prayer, and I left.•