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Swans: An ode to classic beauty

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People love swans. People hate swans. But hardly anyone is indifferent to swans. Large, highly visible and undeniably beautiful, swans have used Nantucket as a haven since the early 1960s. For a couple of months last winter, Nantucket had the distinction of having all three species of North American swans in residence.

Introduced European mute swans spread up the East Coast in the 1940s. Tundra swans are occasionally seen here in winter, as they head south from the Arctic on their way to Chesapeake Bay. But the December appearance of a rare Trumpeter Swan, a highly endangered North American endemic, made the island the envy of every nearby Christmas Bird Count.

         To take them in the order of appearance, mute swans were kept as domestic wildfowl for centuries in their native Europe. Ownership was marked on the foot or bill, and roast swan was a feature of medieval banquets. Unmarked swans in Great Britain were considered property of the Crown, which may have saved them from extirpation, as they were nearly hunted out of existence elsewhere.

Thus, swans became “The Royal Bird.” An annual “swan upping” on the Thames River, complete with full traditional costume, still tallies them, 500 years later.

          There is plenty of folklore about swans: their beauty, mystery and transformative ability. The Hans Christian Anderson tale of “The Ugly Duckling” tells the story of a mislaid swan. Hatched among ducklings, it was mocked by its nestmates for its ungainly appearance and gray plumage until it grew up and transformed into a bird of stunning grace and beauty.

Closer to us, collectors of all things Nantucket may remember a swan named Jupiter in Jane Langton’s mystery tale, “Dark Nantucket Noon.”

Mute swans were then of great interest in the Northeast. Introduced to North America in the late 19th century as decoration for parks, zoos and large estates, they were kept in close captivity. But some managed to escape and breed.

Feral mute swans increased along the East Coast. By the 1940s they were straggling into Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts. Several pairs subsequently settled on Nantucket.

         They begin the breeding season in March. Mute swans are noted for mating for life, although as with anything else birds do, there are exceptions. They will find a new partner if one dies, as most monogamous birds will. But once bonded, they are usually faithful. Working together, they build a large, sturdy nest, making a mound of vegetation in or near water. They are extremely territorial. The female incubates the eggs, and the male defends her and the young against all comers.

 Male mute swans are noted for their aggression. They have even attacked kayakers and fishermen who came too close to a nest. An angry swan is not to be taken lightly. The male puffs up, holds his wings out, curving them over his back to appear even larger than before. He snorts and hisses like an exploding tire. With a long neck, hard beak and six-foot wingspan, a punch from the wrist-joint of one of these 20-pound birds is not something to ignore.

In contrast, North America’s two native swans have milder personalities. The tundra swan is smaller than the mute, with a black bill, often accented with yellow skin near the eye. Also called the whistling swan, it nests in the far north, on open tundra above the tree-line. It was formerly considered a separate species from the Bewick’s Swan of Europe, which has now been reidentified as a subspecies.

Tundra swans are the most numerous of North America’s swans. Nesting in the Arctic, they benefited from inaccessible breeding areas in Canada and central Alaska, but were also impacted by hunting on migration. Flying south through the Great Basin and Mississippi flyways to winter on both the east and west coasts, they benefited from the Migratory Bird Protection Act of 1918.

They have a lifespan of over 21 years, which also helped them cover losses of eggs or juveniles. They increased steadily through the 20th century. As land-use patterns changed they were able to adapt their winter menus from wild to agricultural.

By 1962 they became numerous enough for limited hunting to be allowed in the West. Eastern hunts were opened in 1984. On Nantucket we see them eating eel grass at the Creeks, but also in farm fields.

Tundra swans were noted as occasionally wintering on Nantucket prior to 1860. In the late 19th century, they became much rarer. There were only four records, ending in 1906, all from winter. Following a gap of more than 40 years, a few more began trickling in during the 1950s and 1960s.

By the early 1970s, they seemed an annual occurrence, but another gap followed. There was a 1982 report, and then two remained over the winter of 2009-10. Sightings resumed in 2020 and 2022.

This most recent pair landed first on Miacomet Pond, and were feeding peaceably when the resident aggressive mute swan, nick-named “Ivan the Terrible” by local residents, attacked. The male tundra initially attempted to defend his mate but was ultimately defeated.

The pair flew off and quickly found a more tolerant population of migratory mute swans on Hummock Pond. They were mostly ignored by the mutes, but it was fascinating to watch a juvenile mute swimming back and forth, and doing what can only be described as staring at them. It seemed as if it recognized their novelty, and was curious. They, or other tundras, continued to be seen on-island for several weeks, moving about as open water dictated.

But the most recent big bird news was a lone juvenile trumpeter swan in Sesachacha Pond. First seen from Quidnet Dec. 23, 2021, it was another mega-rarity for Nantucket, as well as Massachusetts and the East Coast generally. It is the first county record, and fourth for the state.

Trumpeter swans are the largest native North American waterfowl, six feet from beak to tail, with an 80-inch wingspan, weighing up to 30 pounds. With a booming call like the opening note of a kid’s first trumpet lesson, an adult announces itself in no uncertain terms.

To get airborne, they have to run hard along the water’s surface, needing a 100-yard runway to get enough lift for take-off. They out-weigh mute swans and have longer wings. Trumpeters have black bills, a pointed forehead and exceptionally-long necks.

Like other swans they are primarily vegetarians, eating aquatic plants, such as pondweeds, duckweed, sedges, rushes and even eelgrass. In winter they eat more terrestrial grasses, blueberries or cranberries, or crops like corn, barley or potatoes.

Trumpeter swans were once on the critical list of endangered birds. Starting in the 1600s, they were over-hunted for eggs, meat, down, powder puffs and quill pens. Preferring to nest on small islands or structures such as beaver dens, they lost critical habitat to the burgeoning fur trade.

Before the terms “of concern,” “threatened” or “endangered” even came into general use, and every gradation of status was debated down to the thickness of a filoplume, their sharp disappearance was noticed. By the early 20th century, they were nearly extinct. In 1935 there were only 69 individuals known in the United States.

Perhaps Richard Pough put it best, in his 1951 guide to waterfowl. There were by then about 400 Trumpeter Swans in the continental United States existing solely in the protected confines of Yellowstone Park.

“It would have been too much to expect a fairly tame bird affording such a wonderful target to long survive the settlement of most of its breeding and wintering range,” he wrote.

At that point the Migratory Bird Protection Act had been in effect for over 30 years. There were still wild, migratory flocks in Alaska and parts of Canada, estimated at about 900 birds. But there was still doubt that the population was large enough to be sustainable.

Efforts to raise and reintroduce them took place in Ohio and other parts of their historic range. Independent breeding flocks became established around the Great Lakes, which is likely from whence our visitor came. Trumpeters continue to recover, but they are still not entirely home free.

With beauty, folklore, and rarity going for them, why would anyone hate a swan? Perhaps someone who had the trauma of a painful encounter. But wildlife managers also have concerns about too many swans having a negative effect on pond vegetation.

With their long necks, they can reach deeper than any of our dabbling ducks and remove vegetation other species need for food, or open up room for invasive plants. Mute swan populations have burgeoned and spread, with few natural controls.

But so far, swan-lovers outnumber swan-haters. We would grieve if control efforts for mute swans damaged the native species. So for now, perhaps the best thing to do is just to enjoy them, all of them. As spring progresses, and they build their nests and raise their young, marvel at their strength, their beauty, fidelity and grace.