WHOOPER TROOPER
Whooper Swans flock to Auchterarder in Fife
It has been raining for days and the farmers are in despair. The stubble fields which dominate the landscape now resemble great sheets of water punctuated with dots as mallard and other waterfowl are taking advantage.
My son Freddy rings to tell me that from the window of his home near Auchterarder he can see an army of swans amid the rising floodwater, their whiteness shining through the dull monotones of a winter dawn. He’s never seen so many – it sounds a spectacular sight.
Freddy has been down to the swollen riverbanks trying to get closer, and thinks that these are whoopers. It’s unusual to see quite so many in this particular area so an expedition is hastily planned and together with nature writer Jim Crumley, we set forth for a swan outing.
Getting close is hard, but we wend our way through a maze of water, and a flotsam of fallen timber and scrub that drifts slowly down the River Earn. As we crash through lacerating snares of brambles, twittering flocks of goldfinches and chaffinches burst from high hedgerows. We briefly glimpse the swans through our binoculars; bends in the river reveal dozens, and hundreds more are gathered on the stubbles where they glean and preen, their long necks outstretched and their plumage white against t he pewter-coloured winter’s morning.
We estimate there are more than 500 whoopers, with a few mute swans joining the melee. They are shy and wary, and every now and then take to the air with a great rhythmic explosion of wings.
The haunting calls of whooper swans in flight is one of the most beautiful sounds in the natural world. Evocative and melancholy, they symbolise desolate landscapes; for this reason, many refer to the whooper as the truly ‘wild’ swan.
I remember a wildlife encounter at Islay’s windswept Machir Bay some years ago. I was standing near the ruin of Kilchoman church on the island’s west side. Close by an ancient Celtic cross grizzled with lichen was a silhouette. The sound of a fanfare drew gradually nearer. From out of the mist a flock of whooper swans emerged, light illuminating the whirring of great wings. I was momentarily dazzled by their sheer brilliance, the crispness of the sound cutting through the silence; their calls fading as the birds travelled on out to sea.
As the days shorten and summer migrants have long headed south, these majestic spectres from boreal regions begin their descent on Scotland. Sometimes as early as the end of September, groups of whooper swans return from Iceland to over-winter on our freshwater lochs, marshes, and tidal mudflats.
The first to arrive are often the non-breeders, but soon small family groups begin
the same storm-bound pelagic peregrinations back to Scotland. They normally fly just above the sea and may land to rest on the water during their flight. However some whoopers have been recorded flying at a height of over 8,000 metres (26,000 feet) and with a ground speed of 86 miles an hour. With temperatures well below -40 degrees at heights just short of the summit of Mount Everest, and oxygen in short supply, it is an extraordinar y feat. It is thought that flying at such unusual altitude minimises turbulence.
Also sometimes referred to as the whistling swan, the whooper is easily distinguished from the mute swan that remains in the British Isles all year round. From a distance it is smaller, has a longer neck, and a yellow bill splashed with black. The mute swan’s bill is orange, and it has a far heavier, more cumbersome silhouette. The Japanese call the whooper the Angel of Winter, and it has long been held in high esteem. Archaeologists found an ancient tomb with the remains of a baby enwrapped in a swan’s wing – a poignant image that indicates swans were perhaps seen as guides and protectors to the spirit world. The whooper swan is common in Russia and is believed to be the bird that inspired Tchaikovsky’s famous ballet, Swan Lake.
The smaller but similar Bewick’s, or Tundra, swan, from the High Arctic and Russia, is a rare winter visitor to Scotland. Naturalist and author William Yarrel named it in honour of the famous engraver and author Thomas Bewick. On occasions there may be one or two Bewick’s swans among a larger group of whoopers, though from a distance it takes a keen eye to distinguish the two species.
The Bewick’s swan’s bill is more black than yellow, with only a small area of yellow. In
1964 the great ornithologist and artist Sir Peter Scott, founder of the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust, discovered that every Bewick’s swan had a unique bill pattern, and by mapping each individually, birds could be followed over many years. This began one of the longest running avian studies anywhere, one which still continues at the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust’s Slimbridge reserve in Gloucestershire each winter.
Over 4,000 whoopers overwinter in Scotland and are usually faithful to the same wintering sites, many of which are Special Protection Areas or estuaries around the coastline. Large numbers winter at Caerlaverock on the Solway near Dumfries, on Islay and on Loch Bee in South Uist, as well as elsewhere in the Hebrides. Loch Leven, and Insh Marshes are also excellent places to see whoopers, although their movements can be erratic and they may arrive and feed for only a few days before moving on. By mid-April they have left for the north.
Whooper swans mate for life but rarely breed in Scotland, although injured pairs unable to migrate have sometimes successfully reared cygnets and there are a few records of whoopers hybridising with mute swans, though their progeny don’t usually fare well.
With changes in agricultural policies, stubble fields are not the rich feeding grounds they once were, the more efficient machinery meaning few gleanings remain. However, in recent years swans have benefited from oil seed rape, and also brock potatoes left after harvest. The top dressing of grain led to high mortalities amongst wildfowl, while pesticides and other agricultural chemicals do little to enhance the environment for the whooper swan. Many swans are killed each year as they fly into lines and wires, though much is being done to minimise this problem.
Post mortems carried out on swans picked up from under lines are often found to contain large amounts of lead shot. It seems that though it is illegal to shoot swans here, they are often targeted further north; increasingly it is becoming harder for both whooper and Bewick’s swans to sustain healthy numbers.
The expression a ‘swan song’ to describe a final act is still widely used, and originates from the idea that swans sing an eerie lament prior to their deaths. Indeed many witnesses claim to have heard this. A whooper swan brought to me following a collision with power lines lingered on for a few days despite my medical ministrations. When it expired it did indeed utter an extraordinary sound as its last strangled gasps forced air through its extra long trachea; this is now widely accepted as the fabled swan song. It’s less romantic than stories of a pre-death lament, yet it’s still a sound that sends a frisson through the listener.