The Swan is gone…

The swan is gone. The garbage truck just came by and grabbed our garbage can, swung it up and overturned it, dumping its contents, including the swan, into its bay. 

This tale of woe is how the swan came to be in our garbage can.

A few mornings ago, as we strolled along the shoreline, a neighbor approached us, asking if we would let him know if we found a dead swan further up the beach. He had already found a dead Canada goose near his home and had witnessed the swan struggling to keep its head above water. Concerned about a possible avian flu outbreak (H5N1 variant), he contacted the DEM (Rhode Island Department of Environmental Management). They confirmed that the virus was present in local wild bird populations and that difficulty keeping the head up was a symptom of the illness. However, they would not come out for an investigation unless five dead birds were found.

Both our neighbor and we shared concerns about the virus spreading from the carcasses to predators, scavengers, dogs like our Conner, and even unsuspecting people. We assured him we would keep an eye out and continued our walk.

Not far along the shoreline, we found the swan lying motionless on the beach, its neck stained with blood and marked by teeth. A coyote or dog had likely dragged it up the sand and rocks. After a brief discussion, we decided to continue to the estuary and decide what action to take on our way back. The morning was cold and quiet, but as we walked, I caught a whiff of death. Conner sensed it, too. Nearby, we found a dead seagull.

Despite the somber discoveries and the looming threat of the virus, the morning held its own kind of beauty. I stopped to take a picture.

On the way back, without a word, Therese bent down, grasped the swan by the neck and one leg, and we headed home. We stopped to inform our neighbor that we had found the swan — along with the seagull. With the goose he had discovered, and another dead seagull we had come across earlier that week that was five in total. We suggested he call the DEM.

Without pause, Therese carried the approximately forty-pound swan a quarter mile home without stopping for a break, where we disposed of it in the garbage can. With temperatures in the low teens, we weren’t worried about decay, but we secured the lid with a bungee cord to keep out raccoons and other scavengers. And now, the swan is gone.

Watching the birds on the bay is one of our favorite pastimes — that’s why we chose to settle here. This morning, we visited Warwick Park and spotted Hooded Mergansers, Buffleheads, two hawks, several Flickers, and all the usual suspects — Gulls, Canada Geese, Mallards, Robins, Cardinals. It was a beautiful sight. But it’s hard to ignore the likelihood of more dead birds, casualties of the highly contagious H5N1 virus. That same virus is why eggs are so expensive at the grocery store — millions of chickens have been culled to prevent its spread.

Now, whenever I look out at the bay and see a swan, I find myself watching, waiting — making sure its head stays above water.

P.S. I started to write this piece in reaction to my being dissapointed in myself for not taking a photograph of the dead swan. After finishing this piece, I have decided I made the right choice not to take the shot.