She’d chosen the place to make me well: we were safe from foxes, people and passing boats. A half-submerged shopping trolley wedged against the river bank distanced us from the university rowing teams speeding past.
This year I could feel seven eggs nestling in my twigs and sticks. They took it in turns keeping them safe and warm. The undergrowth grew denser around me. A ball flew over from the park and bobbed like a bird on the water. Waterlilies appeared; yellow buds bloomed into flowers. The eggs hatched and they all left me for another year; that evening a storm that lasted all night raised the water level around me, but even in the torrential rain I held safe. I hoped they’d all found shelter.
The next day the calm river reflected a morning sun and they unexpectedly returned to me. One sat on the nest with chicks by their side. The other took position on the bank and they both fell asleep. Even the furry pom poms couldn’t keep either of them awake. I could only guess what a night they’d endured. There were only two cygnets with them.
No comments:
Post a Comment