Swaness

One thing we will say for the swaness, or she-swan. She makes a lovely mother! She and the cat are our ideal earthly types of the maternal relation. The mere human mother is an awkward thing alongside either of these creatures. To see the swan with her gray cygnets sailing about is not much more in itself than if she were a goose and goslings; but when she takes a mind to give the little things a ride, then we see riding pic-a-back “elevated,” as the newspapers say of circus-riding, “to the rank of a Fine Art.”

On Thursday we go down to Celbridge, where with memories of Swift and the wretched and foolish Vanessa and in company with a beautiful swan and swaness, which bring their babies to the lawn to be admired and duly fed, I am going to rest and recuperate for the next five weeks and try to remember out of this awful time only the kindness and sympathy that has been shown to us by so many Irish friends.

It was in June, 1922, while Bill was making his toilet that there came out of the west, and landed nearby, one of the most beautiful swanesses that you ever saw. From her dress and appearance, she was some high born lady. Bill was rather surprised when he discovered the visitor, and naturally, he called on her and displayed courtesy that only a swan can show.

To the four very willing swanesses of Egypt, Mass., Gloomy Gus, the wan swan from California, is just a pain in the neck. And a pain in a swan’s neck is a long, long pain. Trouble is: Gus hasn’t made passes at any of the lasses. Grieving ever since the death of his mate, with whom he used to navigate Forest Lawn’s lake, Gus was flown east this week in hopes that he would find a new mate in one of four maiden swans at the Chase Bird farm in Egypt, near Boston.

“[…]You were bored anyway and you started drinking and then there were the women. All those ‘we’re just good friends’ women.” “Oh, for God’s sake, Deborah, stuff like that, it’s not important. Can’t you understand? What’s a man supposed to be? Some goddamn swan that mates once for life?” “A lot of men do and you can bet it’s what the swaness prefers.”