Fifty Plus (50+) - WARNING! Don't Feed The Swans!

This morning I was out riding in the Snohomish River Valley enjoying the overnite snowfall and clear blue skies. What a day! Surely, this is God's Own Land. The river, the fields, crisp and clear and... wait, what's that? A gaggle of geese? No, it's a swarm of swans. There, out in the corn stubble. Trumpeters, I think.

I stop to take a phone/camera shot at about fifty yards. Heads pop up like periscopes. Good composition, so I snap off a couple pics and decide to get a little closer, thinking I'm Ketchikan the Animal Man. They begin to rise from their resting spots and casually walk away, keeping one beady, black eye on the Wildlife Expert. No! Don't go! These moments rank among the reasons I ride! Don't you beasts understand?

Not to be outdone and knowing that I am smarter than a bird by quantum leaps, I reach into my pocket for an oat bar. You know, the kind with seeds. Birds like seeds, right? I begin to break up the bar and, while sowing the crumbs like chicken feed (I've seen it on the TV), I begin a slow methodical chant. Somewhat similar to the one the largest swan is making.

What happened next should convince all doubters that a pair of 34" legs is no match for a pair of 24" legs, backed up by two 4' wings. And a 7" beak. A beak exquisitely designed by God (upon Whose land I am tresspassing and now attempting to exit) for producing a Craftsman Plier-like grip on flesh.

Good thing I was wearing my bike helmet. The fowl creature was on my shoulders by the time I had gone 15 yards. I swatted him off and thought he was done because he stood there hissing at me like he had fangs. No way! Here he comes again! I made it to my bike, unbitten so far, because I turned and stood my ground a few times.

He kept charging every time I tried to mount up and soon it was a stand-off. Me on one side of my bike and the ingrate bird-brain on every other side. Soon, it degenerated to a shouting match. Me, yelling about how birds are supposed to like seeds. He, matching my volume decibel for decibel, yelling whatever it is pissed off swans say.

Then, in an instant, he attacked. Right through the open bike frame. Popped his head in there and, AAAAAAHHHHHGEEEEZZZZ!!!! Dead-On the tip of the ol' Gooeyduck!

Now, I won't describe the results, as they are at this writing still evolving. And, I won't post any pictures of same, because I don't know how and this is a family show. However, this Christmas we'll be eating goose instead of turkey cuz they don't farm swans around here.

What a crackup... great story! Here's wishing you a speedy and complete recovery! :)

Funny tale. And, bye the way, I have seen similar dispays of affection by geese. They deserve to stand in for the swan next Thanksgiving. My best to you. Recover quick.

Sorry to hear of the mishap but that's just hilarious. Never heard of spandex eating fowl before..........Hey, at least you didn't try to pedal away and have them attempt some kamikaze maneuvers on you!!

Makes note to self to close bike frame when confronted by angry geese.

I had a goose fly along side me for a few feet, then land AND RUN along side for a couple of tenths of a mile. A group of about ten of us were waiting for everyone to regroup and the same goose walked across the road and began to give us what-for. To this day, I don't what we did to offend him, but he seemed ready to take all ten of us on. We left.

jcm, Is it safe to say you won't be attending any performances of 'Swan Lake'?
Hope you feel ...errrr... get better!

One of the best told tales of cycling in a long time...had me laughing way too hard! Hope you feel better soon!

12:30 AM

Just got back from work. Things have NOT improved. Way too embarrassed to go to the clinic so I called from the truck. Some snotty, nasally sounding witch of a Nurse Practitioner thought I was pranking. Said I should pack the thing in ice and try not to strain! At what!! She told me that she would have a Physician's Assisitant call me within a half hour. The PA seemed sympathetic but then just had to ask if the bite covered a "large area!" Good grief.

Tough part was trying to convince my wife that the deep purple bruise and the single tooth mark were from a large, angry bird and not from a sordid arrangement gone bad.

I'm telling you that this brute tried to separate me from my Unit! The only reason I got away was because at the moment of contact, I reflexively dropped the bike. It fell over with the top tube landing across the creature's shoulders, his neck fully through the frame, beak attached to me. This, and NOT me, scared him off.

I hope I can ride tomorrow... I sense a haiku forming...

Really sorry for the discomfort but the saga continues to get more humorous. This might call for a special feature in Cycling News or Bicycling Magazine. I guess we now know what Swan's consider a delicacy!!!!

I'll never look at a Swan the same again.

Now you know why there are signs in the large parks that state "Don't Feed the Wild Animals" Stop watching Animal Planet! Large fowl are dangerous, territorial, and vicious.

Now you know why there are signs in the large parks that state "Don't Feed the Wild Animals" Stop watching Animal Planet! Large fowl are dangerous, territorial, and vicious.

This should qualify for, "When Animals Attach!"

Jppe, I've seen geese eating slugs. ;)

I really hope this is not your "Swan Song."

Surely, this isn't your cycling "Swan Song"?

madli

You know, if you become America's first case of avian flu, you're gonna' have a hard time explaining how you got it to the media. Inquiring minds will want to know :D

John in Oregon

I really hope this is not your "Swan Song."


Surely, this isn't your cycling "Swan Song"?

madli


Great minds . . . .

Experienced minds anyway! Keep cycling!!!!!!!!!!

madli

It's 30 degrees and sunny! Perfect! And there's no way I can ride!

"Swine bird." - Clouseau

There must be some witty comment that I can make, and When I stop laughing, I might be able to think of one. Still, Thats what you get if you try and entice young birds with only a cereal bar

Hey, it was Valentine's Day. That was just a love kiss!!!

Y'know, it puts a whole new spin on the "chicks love scars" thing. Dunno' if you wanna' let the swan story out in that p'rtic'lr context tho'.

Oh, and next time ya' use it, try not to think about swans!

There must be some witty comment that I can make, and When I stop laughing, I might be able to think of one. Still, Thats what you get if you try and entice young birds with only a cereal bar


Brings new meaning to “The early bird gets the worm”. OUCH ;)

Sorry, I couldn't hold back.

Seems to me jcm that you'll have to add another piece of equipment to your cyling kit - every Canadian knows that you gotta protect yourself with a hockey cup. It changes the contour a bit, but happiness is a swan with a crumpled beak.

Hilarious story - THANKS!

Makes you regret leaving that favorite frame pump at home! Next time, "Run Forrest, run..."

Roflmao!!!!!!

I knew this would be brutal.

The headlines in our local paper-just what you wanted to hear:

Swans spread bird flu in Europe-Animals will likely carry virus across continent, experts say...........

Sorry to hear of your troubles, but LMAO, that's just too funny.

Remember, the early bird gets the worm......

ROFL!!!! LOL!!! Maybe the best post ever. In fact, it seems like we need an Oscar/Grammy sort of award for the best posts on the 50+ forum. Maybe it could be the Swan award.

Back in the Saddle! Once the cast was removed, I could detect no discernable permanent damage except to my pride. Rode to Bike Expo yesterday - 62 miles rt. No swans in attendance. ;)

In closing my comments on this deplorable thread:

I should like to say, thanks to all for your co-miseration and sympathy. Glad to have brightened your day a little. And, to those who couldn't resist the urge to pile-on, I quite understand. I didn't expect anyone to doff hats with quivering chins. Here is an anecdotal and true story which illustrates why I believe that Justice gets her Due - eventually. Read on:

About fifteen years ago, a close friend was complaining about three roosters that were terrorizing his place. Seems they were brothers he had allowed to go ferral. Tres Hombres with spurs, funny red hats and all. They apperantly thought it was great entertainment to attack and bully any and all visitors who might happen by. The poor family dog was a particular favorite since they figured out he was tied up and only had a limited and therefore predictable counter attack. Group Hunting Dynamics 101. The man did the obvious, since the dog seemed willing to defend himself. He let it off the line. It immedeately sought refuge over at the neighbor's a couple acres away!

Letting kids outside was out of the question. Remember the spurs? These guys were a real gang. They simply would not be trapped or captured. I am convinced that nothing turns faster than a chicken on a mission. Roadrunner had nothing on these guys! Everyone in the family carried a stick or a fishing rod when going out to the car. My friend carried a salmon net, thinking he might snag one. :roflmao:

Anyway, as the subject became one of regular (derisive) discussion at work, I suggested shooting the miscreants. Not with a shotgun, but a .22 - go for the head shot. Quick and clean, no wasted meat. Everyone at the lunch table thought that was the ticket.

So, since he had no .22, and I did, I offered to do the deed, being a better than average shot. The kids were off at soccer or something and The Executioner drove out to the country to adminster the Will of The Governed. When I arrived, there was poor Ernie ( his real name) standing in the driveway with his fishing net, empty. The Three Stooges were under the coop, peering out as only chickens can peer - all marbly and beady-eyed. I began to tease Ernie about running out of breath while chasing chickens with a net. I was wrong, says he, his presence with the net was to discourage an ambush upon me.

I shut my bellowing mouth.

After preparing the revolver, we began to strategize on the best way to get the vultures into the open. They seemed to know that someting was different and that they were no longer in Management. We simply could not get them to show their spurs for more than a moment. Finally, they ran up the ramp into the coop. Now we had 'em. Ernie went in the back door with a stick. I waited outside the ramp hole at about fifteen paces so as not be too close in case of direct frontal assault - ala US Marines out of the landing craft.

There were at first the words, "damned dark in here", then, "$#!+" followed by whacking sounds and a cacaphony of flapping, fluttering and very excited vocalizations from all four contestants. I began laughing hysterically at the sounds coming from inside the coop. I've read that in battle, some Viking warriors broke into uncontrollable laughter.

After a few moments, one chicken came running down the ramp, saw me, and instantly ran back in before I could issue a warning of "Counter attack, Ernie!" No way could I get a bead on him.

More thrashing in the coop. Another expletive from Ernie. Now, all three birds are running down the ramp. Their Dark Fortress had been inexorably breached by Ernie's stubborn refusal to give ground. What a man!

Strangely, one bird stopped in it's tracks about ten feet from me, the others disappearing into the bushes. Quickly, I popped off a round and struck the beast square in the bean. What happened next is the lesson in this Cautionary Tale.

As soon as Hombre Uno went down and started his dead-chicken-flopping-thing, his 'loyal buddies' came running over to him. Just as I was drawing down on Hombre Dos, they both jumped on their just-passed companion, their brother - as he was flopping about like fumbled football!

I couldn't believe it! No mercy! No compassion! Spurring and pecking and tap dancing on the corpse! Probably laughing, by the sounds I was hearing! Ernie emerges from the back of the coop, looking somewhat the worse for wear and says casually, "yeah, they do that."

I dispatched the two Bad Boys with prejudice.

The Lesson:

Expect No Mercy! Give No Quarter! The Swan attack was Lady Justice! :D

jcm, you should write a book! :)

Swan = A Chicken Reincarnated!!

Swan = A Chicken Reincarnated!!

Yes. Exactly.

Priceless!

The Lesson:

Expect No Mercy! Give No Quarter! The Swan attack was Lady Justice! :D

This is some of the best stuff I have ever read on BF. When I was a little guy, maybe three years old, my Aunt Lizzie had an old rooster that hated me. One day he "flogged" me good. I still have the scars on my shoulder from his spurs.

I ran into the house, bleeding, and told Aunt Lizzie what happened. She grabbed a baseball bat and told me that we were going to get that rooster. I wanted nothing to do with him, but the matriarch of the family insisted that I be a participant in doling out avian justice.

She stood behind me with both of us holding on to the bat. The rooster saw us, flared his wings and attacked. Aunt Lizzie and I caught his head right about the Hillerich and Bradsby brand and the rooster dropped. There was no flopping about. He was graveyard dead. Aunt Lizzie scooped the dead bird up, cut his head off and hung him on a barbed wire fence to bleed out. She made chicken (rooster) and dumplings that night.

Yep! That's good eatin'. Unfortunately for Ernie, these boys had been ferral for two years. Skinny and tough. There was no stewing 'em down. He said they were like jerky! :D

EDIT: BTW, the dog came home that day and started peeing all over the property!

a fowl tale for sure.

Two great stories, jcm. I once got spiked by a rooster through a thick army boot, and it hurt like heck all that day.
If there's anything meaner than a rooster, I guess it's a swan. Wonder how swans got to represent elegance and grace instead of pure cussedness.