Swan song

Tundra Swans near Naicam, April 17, 2010. John Madsen photo

February is definitely a cruel month. The last few days have been bitterly cold with the mercury shriveled to the bottom of the thermometer while a week earlier we were teased by temperatures above freezing for enough days to make us think it was winter's swan song.

Speaking of swans, last spring John and I came upon a flock of over 100 Tundra Swans on a slough just northeast of Naicam. It was the largest number we had seen at one time, although I understand the largest flock recorded was 20,000 at Goose Lake near Tessier in 1973, according to Alan R. Smith in the Atlas of Saskatchewan Birds. That must have been spectacular.

When I say these swans are on a slough, I am exaggerating. It's the flooded corner of a field. When we went back a couple of months later, the crop was up and flourishing and it was hard to believe that swans had ever gathered there. About five years ago, a rapid spring thaw created mini-lakes on either side of the Anaheim access road off Highway 5 where a flock of about 30 stayed to forage for several days. After the water dried up, it was the same amazement. The water must have been less that a foot deep and yet the swans liked it!

All the flooded potholes across the prairies must be the fast-food outlets for these magnificent birds making their way from the eastern coast of the USA to north of the Arctic Circle. I keep a notebook in the glove compartment to record birds sighted on outings, and looking back I see that en route to BC on April 14, we saw swans west of Humboldt, at Laura west of Delisle, at Sibbald just inside the Alberta boarder, west of Hannah and west of Beiseker and the next morning, at Lac Des Arcs near the Banff park entrance. Number of birds at each of these sightings ranged from five or six to 20 or 30, nowhere near the size of the flock we saw last year.

The swans were all strung out in a long line on the far side of the "slough". We sat in the car with the windows down, watching and listening to the birds chattering. A pair of Lesser Scaups feeding nearby looked impossibly tiny. Then we heard a delicate whistling and three swans came in for a landing near us. The whistling sound is made by their wings, not their voices, and gives them the name by which they were once known, Whistling Swans.

When the fly overhead, it's their cooing calls that makes you look up to see the long undulating ribbon of birds. They have all white plumage with black legs, feet and bills, and usually a yellow spot in front of the eye. The plumage of the sexes is the same.