Cwmbran Swan by Gillian Silverthorn, warm tea

He swam up the canal today to protect the nest, I caught it on my phone for you. His lady stretched her wings while the sun covered her eggs, six in total this time, Bob, oh you should have seen him patrolling the banks seeing of the greedy Canada geese, even the poor mallards minding their own business. At one point he crash landed, frantically flapped his wings, puffed up his chest and swam after a lone goose until it left the canal altogether.

            Shall I rearrange your pillows so you can see the video? You don't look comfy like that.

            Tell me the story again, Bob, about the time the whole swan family crossed the zebra crossing, you know when the parents stopped the traffic and called to the signets when it was time to cross.

            I'm wondering if the new brood will come on your birthday? What time do they usually hatch in May? Can you remember?

            Are you comfy? Can you hear me?

            It's got to be thirteen springs you've watched them now. Do you remember how Cath made us laugh when she said how remarkable it was that no one taught the swans what to do with their babies, but they just knew?

            Can you hear me?

            I'll go to see them again on your birthday, see if those eggs have hatched.

About the author

 Gillian Silverthorn grew up in a village in Hampshire before moving later in life to Cornwall where she lives with her husband Kevin. In the last few years she has taken up writing short stories and poems. 

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)