No white feathers FOR THE FEARLESS SWAN TAGGERS
There’s been an annual waterborne census of the regal fowl since medieval times – and it’s not a job for wimps!
So what is a member of the Royal household to do when their ancient ceremonial role requires them to sport a heavy, woollen red blazer with a shirt and tie in 39c heat? that was the dilemma facing David Barber last week. as holder of the distinctly unusual — and very British — title Royal Swan Marker, he presides over an annual expedition to check on the welfare of the swan population on a 79-mile strestch of the thames between Sunbury and abingdon.
Known as ‘swan upping’, this ritual dates back an astonishing 900 years. and for the past 29 of those years, David Barber, who was personally appointed by the Queen, has overseen it, clad in the impressive weighty garb — complete with a cap sporting a jaunty swan feather — that comes with the role.
On tuesday, however, as the country wilted in unprecedented temperatures, David broke with tradition.
‘I decided to take my jacket off,’ he says. ‘I have never done it before, but I thought her Majesty would forgive me.’
For most of us, this might seem like a trivial matter, but that is to vastly underestimate the meticulous attention to custom and heritage that informs swan upping.
This was something I couldn’t fail to observe when I joined David and his fleet of six 100-year-old mahogany rowing boats as they made their way down a section of the thames between the picture-postcard communities of Marlow and henley.
On the way, I learn an awful lot about swans — even the smaller birds have an astonishing number of feathers, numbering in excess of 25,000, and they lay eggs twice a year — but also the pride invested in this annual expedition.
‘It’s a privilege to be involved in something that’s hundreds of years old,’ one of the oarsmen, tim Keech, tells me.
‘ It’s amazing to think that in essence it has barely changed over that time, although there were no locks or motorboats back then to help the process along.’
Nor — thankfully — do we eat swans any more, which is how it all started.
Back in the Middle ages, when the stately white birds were considered both a culinary
Delicacy and a symbol of status, the British Crown, anxious to ensure a supply for royal feasts, declared that any unmarked swans in open waters belonged to them.
That meant if any rich landowners fancied their own supply, they had to purchase an official (and expensive) swan mark, which they displayed by placing a unique identification mark on the birds’ beaks.
The practice of swan upping — that is, determining which swans belonged to whom — was born, although these days their beaks are left alone and ownership is established by a ring around their legs. Crown swans remain unmarked.
Centuries later, the only bodies still to exercise ownership rights are two of the country’s 124 ancient livery companies, the worshipful Company of Vintners and the worshipful Company of Dyers.
It means that today, ownership of swans in the thames is shared equally among the Crown, the Vintners and the Dyers, and it is representatives from these, clad in their respective red, blue and white, that make their way down the thames — just as they have every year since the 12th century.
Apart from in 2020, that is, when lockdown meant it was prevented from going ahead. oh, and torrential rain and dangerously high river levels cut it short by a day in 2012.
Today, though, it’s all about conservation, with cygnets weighed and measured and checked for any signs of illness or injury.
Whatever the motivation, it remains a splendid sight, a wonderfully unusual slice of waterbased pageantry that attracts hundreds of goggle-eyed tourists each year, who gather on the river banks and bridges to watch as the six skiffs, all with their own flags, wend their way up the thames.
Even the motorised support boats come with their slice of history — all were at Dunkirk, part of the operation to evacuate more than 300,000 allied soldiers from the beaches and harbour of the French town in May 1940.
It is the rowing boats that are the real attraction, though, manned by members of the liveries — all skilled oarsmen in their spare time — who give up five days of paid work in return for bed and board and the chance to be part of a time-honoured spectacle.
MANY of them have been doing it for decades, only being replaced when they become too old or weak to take part. ‘there comes a point when you are more of a liability than anything,’ grins tim, who at 62 likes to think he is some way off this territory yet.
A barge company operator by day, he’s been swan upping for ten years, although this morning he is a ‘spare’, which gives him a chance to tell me about how it all works.
‘Once the lead skiff has spotted a brood they shout: “all up” and that means the other five skiffs need to navigate over to them and use our boats to form a trap which you then make smaller,’ he explains.
‘The idea is that once it’s small enough to ensure swans can’t fly away you can then lift them out the water.’
On paper this sounds simple enough, but it takes some expert manoeuvring to shepherd a brood of uncooperative swans, as I discover when the skiffs come across a cob (male) and a pen (female) not long after departing Marlow.
It’s an impressively smooth operation and within seconds the six have formed a hexagonal trap which they proceed to close around the cob and pen.
Usually, the birds are briefly removed from the water for inspection but, following the outbreak of avian flu in the UK earlier this year, only cygnets can be taken out and must be disinfected before being returned to the water.
As this pair have no cygnets, the team only wants to get close enough to give them a quick once- over, but the cob is having none of it: a couple of powerful flaps of his wings and he’s managed to soar away, leaving his pen behind.
It is just as well she cannot escape: up close, it’s clear she has fishing wire caught in her wing and chest. It’s distressing to see, although some deft work by members of the conservation crew accompanying the skiffs means that it can be removed, and she emerges unharmed.
There is not always a happy ending. ‘ Fishing tackle is a big problem,’ says Jeremy McCarthy, who’s been Barge Master and Swan Upper for the Dyers’ company for the past ten years, and is marked out by his blue woollen jacket with gold braiding.
‘Bits of tackle are often lost at the bottom of the river and what a lot of people don’t realise is that swans are bottom feeders who can get caught in wires and hooks when they dive to the reeds at the bottom. we have seen some awful injuries and it’s very sad.’
Further down the river the cry of ‘all up’ is heard again when the leading boat spots a brood: mum, dad and their four cygnets. once again the trap is formed and the rowing crews get to work trying to get hold of the cygnets.
Without the presence of avian flu, both Ma and Pa would have
been swiftly removed from the water, their feet tied and wings quickly bound to prevent them from flying off.
‘As you’ve seen with the cob a few minutes ago, their wings are so powerful that even in a confined space they can manage to swoop off,’ says Tim. one year, a lapse of seconds between tying the feet and the chest meant a swan took off, only to be grabbed from the air by a quickthinking oarsman.
On this occasion, though, the swans stay in the water and seem to be in good health. But like any parent, they are not happy to see their offspring being wrestled away from them, and the cob circles the boats, hissing and puffing up his chest and wings to appear larger.
‘ They hate to be separated from their young,’ says Tim. ‘But this isn’t aggression, it’s defence.’
Either way, it does mean the odd mild injury here and there.
‘They’re like geese — they have a hooked claw so if you mistime your catch then you might get a graze on your arm,’ continues Tim. ‘otherwise they can try to peck you with their beak, but it doesn’t really hurt.’
Meticulous record- keeping means that with one glance of the swan’s leg, the crew can know exactly where it was this time last year, while cygnets are given rings according to who owns their parents.
These ones will be claimed by the Dyers. ‘The most cygnets our company have marked in one year is 840, the least 810, which gives you an idea of numbers,’ says Jeremy.
on the boats go, and as we wait at a lock I take the opportunity to talk to David in between the clamouring demands for photographs from tourists.
A businessman who has always lived by the Thames, his name was put forward for the role of Royal Swan marker in 1993 because of his work helping to coordinate the removal of swans from stretches of the Thames used for summer rowing regattas.
After travelling to Buckingham Palace to be interviewed by the Lord Chamberlain, he was formally appointed by the Queen — in her role as the impressively titled Seigneur of The Swans — and has presided over the annual swan upping ceremony ever since.
one of his proudest moments came 13 years ago, when the Queen attended the swan upping ceremony for the first time in her reign, travelling behind the convoy of rowing boats in a barge.
‘Hopefully she’ll have been impressed,’ he says.
He needn’t have any worries on that score. You’d have to have a heart of stone not to be charmed by this utterly British tradition.