We tried to rescue a waterlogged swan today. We saw it barely floating at the edge of the water, pathetically trying to carry on as a normal swan would, slowly and what looked like painfully sweeping its soaked neck from side to side, beak just underwater where the food might be. Instinct, I supposed. Even those weakened movements were almost enough to upset the poor creature’s equilibrium and once or twice I thought it might even capsize, but I suppose the wings nearly underwater and the despairingly splayed feet just kept it upright.
“Let’s ring the Animal Ambulance…!” So we did. Trying to stay un-frantic while trying to explain where we were I felt such a feeling of inadequacy. Not just because although we were trying to “do the right thing” we couldn’t recall the name of the bridge we were near, nor any of the side roads an approaching vehicle might have used to come near enough to be any use. “Lift it out of the water, if you can…” So we did; after a few half-hearted goes at paddling away as if for form’s sake, the swan came back to the water’s edge and allowed us to take hold of its neck behind the head and keep the wings together, as instructed. So we gathered the swan up and took it in armfuls to the main road nearby. Awkward, its still pure-white feathers clearly drenched through and dripping, the beast was too far gone even to struggle. One likes to think of course that it knew we wanted to help. “Put a coat or a towel or even a plastic sheet or something over it; keep it warm…,” they’d said. So we laid the swan on a bench and, feeling rather foolish, I duly placed my coat over it––turned inside out, I might add.
We watched perplexed as the Animal Ambulance eventually appeared, then dawdled off down the wrong road. It reappeared an agonizing age later and I thought I’d caught the driver’s eye so I waved. He switched on his indicator towards where I Was standing but then drove on past, continued to the traffic light down the road, waited while it changed to green then disappeared again. Finally the vehicle reappeared and with the help of another concerned bystander we induced it to stop.
“Yes,” said the experts. “It’s wet!” The Animal Ambulance is run, paid for, and operated entirely by volunteers, of course. A cold beak; so no ’flu and no botulism. So; unwell but with something else. They put the swan in the warm cabinet in the back of the ambulance and off to the vet. See what he says…
“Is it going to die…?” We thought so.
“They’re tougher than you think…”
We won’t know, but we hope so.