Three white swans inhabit the waters of the quarry stretching beneath and beyond my new office window. The other morning, the aqua expanse awash in the warm, bright sunlight of a new day, I watched the trio glide across the water just as they did the very first time I saw them.
They swim in a unique formation and always the same. Two of them remain close together while one trails slightly behind. They are graceful and lovely and a welcome distraction from the busy computer screens blinking and beeping at me with email and meeting alerts for the majority of the day.
Normally, I would think very little of the fact that there are only three. But a co-worker pointed out to me that a year ago there were four. Two pairs, consistently swimming together and doing whatever it is swans do. Over the course of time, however, the group had lost a member.
For an animal lover like me, it’s sad enough as it is without the regard for one important detail… Apparently swans mate for life. And this was a tiny bit of avian intel that I did not know. It wasn’t just that the “group” had lost a member, but one of these creatures—the one who trails roughly a swan’s length behind—had lost its partner for life.
For some reason that I can’t quite put my finger on, I’ve found myself obsessed with them. I look for them every day, hoping they will grace me with their silent presence. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that one of them has lost its partner, often causing me to wonder if perhaps he or she is sorrowful or lonely? Or whether or not it’s the fascinating fact that the other pair allows the lone swan to remain a part of the group? But something about this unconventional bird bunch intrigues and inspires me.
Such has been my preoccupation with them that I have tried to figure out the source of my quite-possibly-borderline-unusual curiosity. And I think (after some excessive reflection) I’ve nailed it down. I think it’s because the behavior is so human. Their bond reminds me so much of us with our innate desire to connect with others and to forge relationships that will stand the test of time.
The mating for life thing is cool… Don’t get me wrong. I know there are a lot of critters in nature who do this. But I think what has captivated me most is how consistently they stick together. The three of them… The odd number of them.
I don’t know about you, but I take great comfort in knowing that the need to belong stretches far beyond me… far beyond my peers, family, friends and fellow human beings… and farther still beyond the edges of the quarry outside my window… and infinitely beyond any of the natural world that I can touch, feel and see.
Your writing here is captivating. Great post.
Thank you so much. I apologize for taking so long to comment in return. Life has been a bit crazy. But thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts 🙂 It’s nice to see you again!
This is a beautiful blog, Joanna. I related to it, also.
Thank you Ellyn! I’m so glad you checked it out. Hope you’ll return 🙂
Belonging … it is inside of us, as much a part of us as breathing I think. The thought of losing my life partner is sobering, ya I can empathize with this lone… yet not alone swan, and this causes me also to wonder if the couple allowing this tag-along somehow ministers healing to the broken heart of the mate-less swan?
I know, JT. I think the same thing. I wondered that too. That perhaps the other two were helping the lone swan in keeping him or her company and making them feel like they still “belong.”
“my quite-possibly-borderline-unusual curiosity.”
Oh, there’s nothing quite-possibly-borderline-unusual about it. It *is* unusual, and that’s why you’re such a good writer, etc . . .
Thanks Donald. 🙂 Nice to know that “unusual” makes it all worth while.