Cassell's book of birds; vol. 4

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

N.B.—The Swan must not be skinned."

THE WHISTLING SWAN.

The WHISTLING SWAN (Cygnus musicus) has a more compact body and shorter and thicker neck than the Cygnus olor. The beak, which is without the cere, is raised at its yellow base, and tipped with black. This species is sixty inches long, and from ninety to ninety-six broad, the wing measures twenty-four, and the tail eight inches.

The Whistling Swan is a native of the colder latitudes of both hemispheres, but has been known to breed as far south as Greece. In England, where it is only a winter visitor, it is sometimes seen in large flocks, should the season be severe, but very rarely occurs in mild winters. In the eastern countries of Europe it is numerously met with.

The winter peregrinations of this bird take it at certain seasons into Egypt and Northern Africa,[Pg 124] as also to the north-western portions of the African continent, as for example the lakes of Morocco, Algeria, and Tunis. It also sometimes visits Spain. In an easterly direction it is to be met with in great numbers throughout the lake districts of Central Russia, and also near the mouths of large rivers, both in Southern Russia and Central Siberia. Of the Whistling Swans that breed in Iceland, few ever wander far from their native place, and this for a very simple reason, namely, that owing to the Gulf stream which sweeps through its numerous bays and creeks, and the many hot springs derived from volcanic sources, the inland lakes are kept free from ice, while in Russia the swans are all obliged to take their departure before the setting in of winter freezes the lakes and rivers.

THE WHISTLING SWAN (Cygnus musicus). ONE-SIXTEENTH NATURAL SIZE.

In its general appearance the Whistling Swan bears some resemblance to the Mute or Tame Swan, but is by no means so elegant in its shape. Its neck has not the same flexibility or the same graceful bend; nevertheless, though surpassed in grace by Cygnus olor, it is a very beautiful bird. The main feature in which it differs from other Swans is its loud-toned and agreeable voice. Pallas informs us that "its voice has a sound as sweet as that of a silver bell," and adds, "it sings as it flies, and may be heard at a great distance, indeed all that has been said of the notes of the dying Swan is no fable, for with its last breath the wounded 'Singing Swan' utters its song."

"The epithet musicus," says Faber, "is well bestowed on these birds, for when a little flock of them approaches, flying in the air, their tuneful melancholy voices sound like trumpets heard at a distance. Olaf tells us, "when a company of these birds passes through the air, their song during the long winter nights is truly delightful, equal to the notes of a violin." "It is certain," says Arman, "that the voice of a Singing Swan has a more silvery tone than that of any other creature. When wounded, its breath produces this silver sound, so that its song is celebrated in many a Russian ballad." Oesel says, "Their song consists of two notes, which when uttered by the whole flock are[Pg 125] very loud, and may be heard at the distance of three English miles." "At last," says Homeyer, "I have heard the voice of the Singing Swan. Eight or ten of these birds were swimming about a hundred yards from the shore, and uttering their loud full-sounding notes. I cannot say that any melody was distinguishable; there was first a single, long-drawn, well-sounding note, followed by another in a lower key, so that altogether they formed a sound that was not inharmonious. Notwithstanding the distance at which I was, the notes were brought distinctly to my ear over the water."

Schilling expresses himself still more plainly: "When, owing to the intensity of the frost the water of the sea is frozen, and the streams everywhere converted into ice, and the Swans are thus shut out from all the shallows where they usually obtain their food, these stately birds assemble by hundreds in any patch of water that may be still accessible, and there, with melancholy cries, bewail their destitute condition. At such times during the long winter evenings, and throughout the night, I have often listened to their many-voiced lamentations, which have been heard distinctly at a distance of three or four miles. Sometimes the notes thus heard would resemble the sound of a bell, sometimes that of some wind instrument. Still it was not exactly like either of them, just as a living voice cannot be imitated by dead metal. This peculiar concert realised in my mind the truth of what I had heard concerning the song of the Swan, which I had before regarded as a poetical fiction. Indeed, in one sense it might truly be called the death-song of these beautiful creatures, for, seeing that they are quite unable to obtain their food in deep water, they must soon die of hunger, as they no longer have strength enough to fly to a warmer climate, and are thus often found starved to death and frozen upon the ice; still to the last we hear their clear melancholy voice."