Hungry swans

The weekends are coming around so quickly. It doesn't seem as though a week has passed since we last saw the swans and fed them for the first time.

The dogs were disappointed to find that the Tupperware container they had seen going into the daysack I carry (to be fair, it rarely contains anything that isn't theirs) was in fact full of tiny pieces of potato and lettuce, which they watched me throwing into the pond with some dismay. But the swans couldn't get enough. With the cygnets growing fast, they all gobbled up as much as they could get. Last week the little ones had been more interested in slurping up grit from the pavement, leaving the potato to their parents. They make such a delightful noise which never ceases, and watching them sticking their bottoms in the air to try to be like Mum and Dad was heart-warming.

As always, they crossed the length of the pond when they saw us, the little ones following in line. My heart sank when at first I could only count three, as again there were a lot of white feathers scattered around the side of the pond and the thought of a clash between either of the protective parents and a hungry member of the neighbouring fox community flashed through my mind. It was a relief to count all four.

Aren't they lovely? I'm so happy that they'll let me get this close.

Potato, lettuce and spinach tomorrow. In the same container. Sorry, dogs.