The swan has inspired many Irish legends and fairytales

The Mute Swan is one of the most common swans, its long, curved neck and graceful glide a regular sight on our lakes. Picture: Pat McCarriick
I sometimes walk in the outer reaches of the Ox Mountains and out there it is not uncommon to stumble upon small lakes such as the Cloonacool Lakes, the Tullyvilla Lakes or Lough Minaun. These lakes are in the wilderness and yet, invariably, you will find a pair of swans there, enjoying splendid isolation.
It is easy to understand how the story of the Children of Lir was created, for who really knows the lives of these creatures; where they came from, their true age or the secrets they carry.
'Discovering Ireland' provides a concise summary of the old legend. Like many Irish legends, it mixes the natural landscape with fairytale and the arrival of Christianity.
The secret life of the swan is quite intriguing. The Mute Swan is one of the most common swans, its long, curved neck and graceful glide a regular sight on our lakes. The fact that it is ‘mute’ only adds to its mystique. The mute swan is easily recognised by its all-white body and its reddish-orange bill that has a large black knob at the base. The swan’s closest relatives are geese and ducks.
Swans usually mate for life, although 'divorce' is not unheard of, particularly following nesting failure. The remaining swan will often take up with another. Swans feed in water and on land. They are almost entirely herbivorous, although they may eat small amounts of aquatic animals. In the water, food is obtained by up-ending or dabbling, and their diet is composed of the roots, stems and leaves of aquatic and submerged plants.
Birdwatch Ireland explains the sounds that the Mute Swan makes. Apart from a few grunts and the sounds of their wings in flight, it seems they are indeed, mute.
Swans nest on the ground near water. Their nests measure about three metres wide. Unlike ducks and geese, the male helps with the nest construction, and will also take turns incubating the eggs. The average egg, for the mute swan, weighs almost a pound. The clutch size can be up to seven and the incubation period is anything from 34 to 45 days, about six weeks.
Tralee Bay Wetlands, in their nature blog, explains the early life of young swans, as they negotiate growing up and leaving home.
Swans defend their nests ferociously. To understand this, take this scenario… the female is anxious to start a family, the pair are dedicated to the concept and have made a commitment to each other for the long haul. The nest where she has laid her precious eggs is large, exposed and vulnerable to attack. When she sits to incubate her eggs, she is a sitting duck – or sitting swan in this case. What is needed to keep things safe is a watchful, aggressive presence that will repel all-comers. This aggression is instinct, an act of preservation that will be visited on anything that comes within range of the nest – including humans.
The suggestion that a swan could break a human’s arm with a flap of its wing is not true. The truth is that such an encounter would do more harm to the swan’s wing. Besides, the swan will engage in all kinds of hissing and flapping in an effort to avoid any such close contact with humans.
While on the subject of humans interacting with swans, never feed wild fowl bread. They much prefer the healthier snacks of oats, thawed-out frozen peas, salad leaves or grapes cut in half.
There are few sights in nature more pleasurable than that of a mother swan trailing her newly-hatched babies, known as cygnets, across the surface of a still lake on a summer morning. A tragic departure in recent times, however, is the mysterious disappearance of these cygnets shortly afterwards. It seems the invasive mink are principally to blame. They can attack at will, using their aquatic abilities, and not even a sizable and weighty cygnet is too much for them to take down. While this all happens under the noises of the usually very protective parent swans, there seems to be little they can do in the situation and those who do get to intervene often sustain serious injuries themselves.
It is horrible to see cygnets disappear in this way. In recent years, I have seen this happen at Lough Talt; one day a happy swan family, the next, broken-hearted parents. It is a sad modern-day ending to the story of The Children of Lir.