White Pants Blue Tarp Black Swan

It was a day I thought: should I really where those white pants?  They are so clean, so white.  Goose!  What is the point of having them if you don’t where them?  Simple t-shirt, mesh covered shoes, the kind that let the air in as you walk, and an appointment in town.  Uneventful, normal, no surprises.

The country road I chose to drive along follows the river at about a distance of maybe two hundred metres as it winds its way to town.  So when I saw a large black swan on the side of the road I was surprised but not gobsmacked.  Right, I thought, this is the reason I carry a compact camera with me wherever I go.  Don’t let this opportunity pass you by.  When was the last time you saw a swan at such close quarters?  Never actually.

I had the swan in my camera sights as I approached, zooming in with my 12 x and depressing the shutter should the bird fly off and I miss the chance.  Only the bird could not fly off.  It was stumbling, falling to the side, wings clumsy and unco-ordinated.  Oh crap!  Trotting back to the car I was planning my daring rescue and perhaps a title like ‘Swan Saviour’ or The Wonder in White Pants (see how white they are!).  Oh crap, I’m wearing white pants.  No time for laundry concerns I had a daring rescue to perform.

Luckily in the boot of my station wagon I keep a couple of blue tarps and a rope.  No, no kinky reasons you dirty minded mollusc.  Tarps are to keep the straw ridden carpeted floor of the boot clean when a certain Megatron Destructodog travels with me.  Her toileting in the car is the unfortunate habit of a dog afraid of car travel.  I have no idea why there is rope in my car.

The beautiful, big, black and drunken looking swan was not particularly keen on my daring rescue and kept moving further away from me.  Perhaps my pants were too white.  I ran ahead of the creature to prevent it going into the really long grass and bushes only to send it careening towards the four strand barbed wire fence.  Oh crap no.  I ran headlong into the aforesaid long grass towards the reluctant rescuee only to miss it by a feather as it somehow struggled between the wires and continue its escape across paddock.

My tarp and I looked warily at the fence and knew there was nothing for it, even though neither of us may make it through unscathed.  But I did.  Not a prong to my shirt or white pants was suffered; the tarp however gained a couple of holes for its trouble.

The chase continued to a small, muddy gully.  Again, I looked at my white pants, my mesh shoes and hesitated.  The poor swan was losing its tenacious battle.  I could see it was tiring and slowing down.  I suspect it has been injured or ill for some time. 

The swan began hissing at me.

How does one actually capture a swan hmmm?  That was a question I had never Googled in my life and was never likely to and unfortunately Google has no jurisdiction in this dewy, grassy paddock or muddy little gully.  I did not happen to grab a device and bring it on my daring rescue.  But I have captured geese before and I knew you had to grab the neck first because those beaks can be very effective weapons.  I know, I had one bight me on the right buttock once. Ouch!

You would have been proud of me.  I lunged into that gully, tarp flapping wildly at my side, hair just right, look of determination on my face and those lovely white pants fairly glowing in the sunlight. I grabbed the hapless bird’s neck and immediately tarp-wrapped the wings to prevent them taking off my face or ear or mussing my hair.  Alas all this drama was overkill as the poor bird was spent.  No struggle ensued and I picked the swan up (surprised at how light it was) and headed back to the car. 

I could see a gate further up the paddock and immediately headed for it.  My feet were soaked but surprisingly not muddy.  I am not sure how that happened but then again I was unable to see what state my white pants were in.  Oh crap, the gate was chained and locked and not opening any time soon.  My swan infested tarp and I once again assessed the barbed wire fence and I sighed.  There was nothing for it but to go through.  The daring rescue must progress through to completion.  Ever climbed between barbed wire with a black swan wrapped in a blue tarp? No?  Me neither.  This time my shirt, my pants, my tarp and the swan were snagged by those pesky little barbs but we made it through and headed for the car. 

My plan was to tie the rope around the tarp around the swan and drive to my local vet clinic.  This seemed simple enough but the swan revived slightly and argued the point physically.  Then I remembered seeing docos on TV where rangers covered the heads of distressed wildlife and it calmed them down.  Tarp number 2 was brought into action and voila!  Keep in mind I did not actually tie the rope as such, just used it to wrap the swan roll for travel purposes. 

As I drove into town my daring rescue seemed pretty darn adventurous and exciting and my white pants were unscathed.  Amazing!  All the good heroes keep their outfits clean of course.  Unfortunately while negotiating a round-about probably a little too fast I heard the swan roll, well, roll. Oh crap.  Two blocks from the vet clinic and a comical looking swan head appeared in the reflection of my rear view mirror looking left, then right and straight ahead.  Then a stray wing came into view and I began to giggle.  What must the drivers behind me think?  Luckily I do have a cargo barrier so there was no concern the swan would plan to sit up front with me.

The vet nurses were suitably impressed with my story and we all took pictures with the rescuee.  They had never had a swan patient before as I am sure the swan had never been a patient.  It would be treated by the vet and sent to the wildlife rescue people for rehabilitation.

My white pants and I continued onto my appointment and I had nothing more than wet feet.  What a day.  What a daring rescue.  What a swan song!  (Sorry had to be said).