THE DOMESTIC SWAN. 403 



in illo ; " as I too clearly foresaw that foes would lie in ambush for it. 

 At last, I missed my rash and pretty favourite. It had taken wing 

 to the westward one fine morning, and that morning was its last. I 

 looked for its return in vain ; and every day my hope grew weaker 

 as my fears increased. Towards the close of the week, I read in the 

 Wakefield paper that a professional gentleman, in the neighbouring 

 town of Horbury, had succeeded in shooting a magnificent wild 

 swan, which had been previously observed in that quarter. This 

 made me suspect that my poor swan had fallen by that identical 

 shot, for I never saw it more. 



Were wild swans less persecuted on their annual visit to the shores 

 of Great Britain, we should see much more of their habits than we 

 do at present. I once had a flock of fifty-two real wild swans here. 

 They seemed aware of the protection afforded them, and they tarried 

 with me above a month. Six years after this, another flock sojourned 

 on the lake for about a week. 



There is a peculiarity in the nidification of the domestic swan too 

 singular to be passed over without notice. At the time that it lays 

 its first egg, the nest which it has prepared is of a very moderate 

 size ; but, as incubation proceeds, we see it increase vastly in height 

 and breadth. Every soft material, such as pieces of grass and frag- 

 ments of sedges, are laid hold of by the sitting swan as they float 

 within her reach, and are added to the nest. This work of accumu- 

 lation is performed by her during the entire period of incubation, be 

 the weather wet or dry, settled or unsettled \ and it is perfectly 

 astonishing to see with what assiduity she plies her work of aggran- 

 disement to a nest already sufficient in strength and size to answer 

 every end. 



My swans generally form their nest on an island quite above the 

 reach of a flood, and still the sitting bird never appears satisfied with 

 the quantity of materials which we provide for her nest. I once 

 ave her two huge bundles of oaten straw, and she performed her 

 work of apparent supererogation by applying the whole of it to her 

 nest, already very large, and not exposed to destruction, had the 

 weather become ever so rainy. This singular propensity, amongst 

 many others in the economy of birds, puts speculation on our part 

 quite out of the question. We can no more account for this seem- 



