Today is Swan Day

Some days, it's difficult to get out of bed.  That's not strictly true.  Some days it's difficult to stay out of bed.  The temptation to go back and pull a sheet over your head, read a book, play an online game, or just think random thoughts is too much.

"Are you working today?" I sent a text to a friend.  If I arranged to meet her there would be a reason to get out and stay out.  I had promised myself that I would clean the patio and ring the National Trust about the cheque they had sent in my Dad's name but neither of those things felt like a good enough reason to stay out of bed.

We met and then I walked. Walking and breathing are wonderful things. Never quite sure what route I'm going to take, or how long it might take me to get home is very freeing.  It's nice to feel like nothing matters.  The sky is blue, the ground is under your feet, there are no elephants to battle and there are birds everywhere. 

I walked along the canal, noticing today's terrible golfers when I saw something ahead of me on the path.  It looked like a big pillow.  I kept walking and as I got closer I could see it was a swan.  A swan on the path. Now, a swan isn't a tiger and so there is no need to run away but I did feel my breathing quicken.  The little voice in my head said, "Swans are bolshy. It could break your arm."
I breathed.  Have I mentioned that breathing is good? I got close and the swan plucked a feather from behind its wing and chucked it at me.

"Excuse me," I said, "What did you do that for?"
"Well, you know, white feathers, angels, good luck and stuff."
"Don't be silly," I said, "You know I don't believe in all that and it's clearly not an angel's feather because I saw you pull it out of your back."
The swan pouted.  Yes, I know! I didn't know swans could pout either.
"Today is swan day, today is swan day, today is swan day, everybody's happy, well I should say," sang the swan.
"Really?" I asked, "I was hoping it was going to be something more exotic."
"More exotic that a swan?" the swan said, incredulous at the idea.
"I was hoping for a kingfisher," I told her.
She laughed.  "You'll never see a kingfisher, you can't sit still for long enough."
She had a point.
"Maybe down by the falls but I think you'll find it's swan day down there too."
I was disappointed. I didn't want it to be swan day.
"What does swan day even mean?" I asked.
"Well, you know what they say about swans don't you?"
"Break your arm as soon as look at you?" I replied
"No, not that," she said. "But I might if you don't think about it." She winked.
I shrugged.  There are loads of myths about swans.  There's the one about the eight sisters, the idea that they are shape shifters between human and swan form being common. They represent love and fidelity, mating for life and are a symbol of light.  The ancient Greeks thought the swan represented the muses.
"I'm not going to have to write poetry, am I?" I asked, thinking of the Greeks.
"Don't make me laugh," the swan honked, "You are terrible at rhyming. You're not going to get it are you?"
I confessed that I didn't think I was.
"You know, how we look all calm on top but underneath we're paddling like f..."
"Hey," I interrupted "Careful! I've been told off for swearing in the blog before.  People don't like it."
The swan stretched her neck, re-positioned it into a question mark and fixed me with a look of contempt that shot straight down her bill.
"paddling like fury underneath."
"Oh yes, I know that one."
"Well, it's a myth. We have big fat feet and we push and glide.  We don't go very far and we are just as laid back as we look.  You should try it."
"You mean you're not working hard all the time?"
"Of course not," she snapped, "You humans, always looking for an excuse to be busy. If you want to be a swan you need to glide and take a break."
I started to walk away, wondering if I might see a kingfisher by the falls.
"There once was an ugly duckling...." the swan sang.
I looked on the canal and saw her five babies.
"They're not ugly," I shouted back, "taking a break then are you?"
"Be more swan," she shouted in reply.

She was right, it was swan day by the falls too. Not a kingfisher in sight.  Just swans gliding and paddling up the slope, sucking tasty morsels out of the weed. I sat by the canal and thought what it might be like to be more swan but my legs were too restless to keep it up for long. Just as I was getting up the swan flew over the top of me.
"Ha! Knew it!" she called, "Far too human to be swan."