I’m a self-admitted good news looker. Every day I read the local paper, The Providence Journal, looking for good news midst mayhem, murder and general malaise in the culture. I want more than sending food and shoes to Africa, another space shuttle, more than an uptick in the stock market. Some days I find a tidbit here and there, usually in Marmaduke or Peanuts in the funnies. So it was sheer delight this week when I read a really good story, one that tickled my fancy and lifted my spirits. It went beyond the local environs, across the pond to England, home of the wonderful royals and their fickle citizenry. The swans on the Thames were to be counted. |
| In Medieval Times the swans in the rivers and lakes were deemed the property of the sovereignty. Kings and courtesans feasted on the graceful birds who people believed sang only one song, that being at their death. Living near a pond I know these giant birds are of great vocal spirit, so I don’t know how this belief came to be. More recently, British citizens were outraged when it was discovered that a local gentleman made a terrine of a dead swan he found in his yard. Who could do such a thing to the lovely swan? |
| The counting of the swans has a 39- year history. Days in advance of the “upping” the Queen’s chief swan engineer ( not his official title) starts 70 something miles down the Thames from London looking for cygnets. He shepherds them upstream to London, this year some 1000 of them, to be formally counted, inspected for good health and banded for conservation and protection purposes. In earlier times the cygnets were branded on their beaks with a royal symbol. Let it be known the sovereignty maintains a dispensary for caring for sick and injured birds. Anyway, the Queen’s swan marker takes his job very seriously even though he has a regular job in addition to his marking and protection duties. He says it’s a full time job, something my mother-in-law once said about caring for my twin babies and two-year old son. |
| I digress. On a cool summer afternoon in mid-July, Her Royal Majesty Queen Elizabeth II took to her royal launch with its carved swans on the bow of the vessel and watched matching (of course) tulle trimmed hat. At one point she stood up as the swan marker, flanked by several royal- red dressed oarsmen, presented her with a swan cygnet to be touched, perhaps even petted , the baby bird. Protocol dictates that the Queen should not be touched , except by husband and Michele Obama. But touch she did. And the ceremonies continued. |
| Now, the British citizenry balk at such ceremonial display. They are quite simply tired of supporting the royals and their extravagant ways. And I suppose royalty represents an era gone by and will soon be out of business, at least in any great public way. The divorce of Diana and Charles, followed by her untimely death, made the monarchy look very bad. Weren’t they just like the rest of us? |
| I grew up in a small farming village in northern Maine just one mile from the Canadian border. The province of New Brunswick was like an adjoining county to us. My parents socialized there, we went shopping for linens and china there and my father was a long-standing Rotarian in Grand Falls, NB. French Canadian was a familiar language in our village. As a young girl I was fascinated by the young British princess, soon to be Queen of England. I collected many momentos of her purchased in Canada, including large booklets full of pictures, hankies with her name, small teacups and plates with her picture. Her coronation as Queen Elizabeth II was a highlight of my young life. So the balance of my favor is in her court. To me she represents graciousness, dignity and dedication not often found in today’s culture. I am touched that she went to the upping of the swans, climbed aboard her launch and did the right thing. |
| Sheila W. Mooney |
| July 2009 |