The Swan.

The Ugly Duckling was a poignant story from my childhood -- what awkward pre-adolescent doesn't identify with the poor, lost swan, ridiculed and laughed at by the other ducks.  When the ugly duck actually turns out to be the graceful swan, and the envy of all the others...who doesn't hope for that?  It made the swan a mythical creature for me.

Swans are regal, graceful.  We see them a lot here, usually in pairs, off in the distance on a lake (by Minnesota standards though, lakes here are actually more like ponds.)  They float with ease, their necks curved in elegance.  They demand attention.  If I passed by and saw them on a certain lake (pond), I always found myself looking for them again when I passed by the same place.

During the holiday break, Miss B and I took a lot of afternoon walks around the lake (pond) at the Chateau.  She was going through the tough transition of giving up her afternoon nap, I was on a hiatus from running as the result of a hip injury.  A walk was a chance for her to relax in the jogging stroller, a little exercise for me and for both of us, fresh air and a break from the boys and it greatly improved both of our demeanors.  I usually packed a lunch box for her - and it became our stroller picnic.  We always brought our stale bread for the ducks and after we walked around the lake (pond) she would feed the ducks.

There are mallards here, and these little black and white ducks that are cute, but rather mean.  We are partial to the mallards, Miss B likes them because she can tell which ones are the mommies and which are the daddies.    I like them because they are mallards - Minnesota ducks.  The black and white ones peck at the mallards and steal the bread right out of their beaks.  I know, it's nature and survival of the fittest and all of that, but I don't care for rewarding that kind of behavior, even if they are only ducks, so whenever possible we find duck feeding spots that only have mallards.

One day, there were two swans, right in the middle of all of the ducks.  What an amazing opportunity to see a swan up close, right?  I was happy that we brought bread that day.  At least I was happy until the swan tried to eat my three-year old.  It hissed and made noises that I've never heard a bird make before.  It stomped on all of other ducks in its path to try to get closer to us.  We threw the bread and ran.

I know that "hate" is a really strong word, so I choose it very carefully and use it sparingly.  But I really think that now I hate swans.  I hate that something could look so beautiful and graceful from afar, and up close be so nasty that I feared for my daughter's life just because she happened to be holding a chunk of crusty stale baguette.

It has made me think.  How many times in our lives does something look so beautiful, so desirable and covetable from afar, but up close it turns out to be ugly and nasty?  Watch out for the swan, I say.