Sleepy Swan

The view through one of the bridge's arches reveals a swan resting on a small ice shelf
Feb. 27, 2015

I returned this morning and the swan was over on the sunny side
March 7, 2015

detail

10-3-2014

The bridge and the island with traffic. Reflections
pastel, charcoal 

Swan
charcoal

À la recherche du temps perdu

Mallards at the top and base of the dam. There's a small trickle of water flowing over the top. The rest is coated in algae and slime in which the ducks love to poke their beaks.
Sept. 28, 2014
ink, tusche

The fish ladder. I've only seen them trying to hurl themselves up the dam in the late Spring torrents.
Sept. 28, 2014
ink, tusche

I should name this swan. It's been here all summer. How about "Charles" after Charles Swann who has nothing better to do than look after his plumage and reminisce.
Sept. 28, 2014
ink, tusche

September Birds

31 August 2014
conté chalk, colored pencil

1 September 2014
ink

1 September 2014
ink

1 September 2014
ink

1 September 2014
ink

3 September 2014
ink

7 September 2014
charcoal

Sleepy Swans

"Four Swans a-Sleeping"
colored pencil
09-21-13

The Cruelest Month

"A dead frozen swan, Lake Waban"
graphite
02-07-12

By this time of Winter, when Spring seems just around the corner, life in the world beyond our front doors is getting desperate. Forage is scarce and delivers less energy for the amount of work expended to get it. The bodily reserves (fat) of most animals is nearly depleted. A huge expenditure of energy is looming too: Spring mating. This swan had gradually separated itself from the larger group that calls Lake Waban home. For several weeks it lackadaisically foraged in a quiet corner of the lake, a nook that freezes over before the rest of the lake. After a week or so of this behavior, it died and lay frozen on the ice near the shore.

It was odd to see the solitary swan poking around in the roots and muck along the edge. It looked so serene dabbling in the dark, cold water. But it didn't look well. As I drew this posthumous portrait this morning, a man struck up a conversation and said that he had seen this swan two days ago. The water was frozen and the swan rested on the ice with its head down. He clapped his hands and it raised its head but didn't really move. Was it sick, old …lovelorn?

I imagine the body will winter here, frozen in place until the lake can reclaim one of its most majestic residents.

a small log tossed on the ice to see how strong it was

The dead swan

detail

On Thin Ice

Juvenile swan, Lake Waban
5 January 2012
colored pencil

I really wondered about this immature swan I saw last week as I walked around Lake Waban at Wellesley College. The southern end of the lake had a thin layer of ice. Swans, coots, mallards and mergansers floated and dabbled in other ice-free corners of the lake. But this swan was stuck out on the ice for some reason and had to walk to open water. He broke through here and there. He slipped this way and that. When he became tired he would settle himself down and waggle his tail to settle his plumage. A few times he gazed at the ice as if to see something underneath. Why was the water hard and cold?

Eventually, he reached the thin edge of the ice and entered the water with a small splash. And everything was fine. No swans rushed over to see if he was alright. The coots continued their antic bobbing and diving. The mallards gossiped and minded their own business. And the mergansers, four females and a showy male, quickly disappeared as mergansers do.

Years ago when my youngest daughter was very little, she put a pea in her nose. Our various attempts to extract it only made it go in deeper and higher. Finally, somewhat embarrassed, we all trooped into the doctor's office and with a chuckle, he removed the pea with a special tool he'd made out of a small piece of wire. As he examined the pea and settled my daughter down from the traumatic experience he paused and said to one and all (and no one in particular) that people had been sticking things in their noses (and other places) since the dawn of time. The pea would eventually shrivel or rot and humanity would survive and maybe learn that peas are better put in one's mouth.

Maybe next winter, there won't be a swan wishing he had a pair of ice skates… I did see a fox once out on the ice once though…

The Blue Coyote

I walked out into a steady mist two days ago and stopped at the field at the top of my street. The green grass was more vibrant because of the rain: it was yellow-green and there were scratchy areas of autumnal-sepia herbs and dried seed heads scattered on the tops of the swells. It was about 7:30 a.m.

I spotted a young coyote a few hundred yards away. It blended into the vegetation but once identified, it was plain to see and observe. Of course, it immediately sensed me and kept its distance. It then loped this way and that trying to determine if I was a credible threat. I had taken my sketchbook out and was jotting down the basic geometry. The charcoal and the blue pencil running in the mist and drizzle.

He trotted farther and farther away, sniffing, reconnoitering all the while. Never fleeing, the coyote made his escape firmly in control of his own reality. I stayed on longer trying to capture the moment and then turned to follow the path into the forest.

"The Blue Coyote"
10-14-11
charcoal, colored pencil, crayon, coffee

Could this be the coyote that absconded with my one year old cat this past summer? That's another story!

I tried to sketch the trees in the forest. Well, I didn't try. I actually did draw what I saw in the forest. Everything was so beautiful. The water droplets on my paper resisted the waxy black crayon and made it seem like I was drawing a snowstorm. Later, I added notes of different things I was thinking about. And what was that? Kitty Crother's wonderful illustrations for "Le petit-home et Dieu" that was published in 2010 by Pastel, a French publisher. Besides being a master story teller, she draws great forests too. So I was thinking about that.

the solo swan, a teen ager perhaps?

I've had the pleasure of observing a family of swans this summer on Lake Waban (accessible by this forest path and part of the Wellesley College campus). There are two adults and four dirty gray offspring. They mostly mind their own business and stay close together along the North edge of the lake. But on the way back home, I spotted this lone soul, an immature swan, looping around at the other end of the lake busily scrounging for the things that swans like to eat. Why was it all alone while the others were together?

Maybe there's a story in that?

The Swan

This forest is down at the end of my street. After digging out after the blizzard this morning, I walked down to see the river.

I crossed over the brook and on to the main road and ended up at the park where the river goes over a small dam. I've sketched it many times in the summer and I've wanted to sketch it in winter too; just to keep the relationship alive.

Here's the Charles River in South Natick. It's flowing over the dam. The heavy snow has turned into a layer of icy slush. The blue circle is…

…a solitary swan that appears to be mired in the slush.

I drew the swan and the river. It took about 25 minutes. It moved around a little and would make a few honking sounds.

I did this drawing too. I finished it in the coffee house across the road where I warmed up. When it was time to go, the swan was still in the river looking stuck as ever. I called the Animal Control office and had to leave a message. I returned to the scene before dusk expecting the worst.

But there was no sign of the swan. It must have gotten out on its own. Maybe it just waited for the slush to get a little more solid so it could walk on it and fly away. I can imagine all kinds of scenarios; can't you?!