I was inspired to write this post by 
White swans in the UK were always afforded legal status - since the 12th centry, unmarked mute swans (called so as they're less vocal than other swans) were the property of the monarch. They were a delicacy, a luxury for the elite. Technically they're still owned by the King, though this is rather symbolic - I'm not sure who'd serve up a swan at their peasant table today, although with the cost of living, who knows.
Whenever I think of white swans, I think of the swans at Bishops Palace in Britain's smallest city, Wells. It's not far from my moter in law's place, and a lovely market town to visit. Each year people love to see the cygnets following their mother in the moat that surrounds the palace, but there's something else special about these swans too.
These swans ring a bell for their dinner - and have done for over a century. They've been taught to ring a bell with their beaks when they want dinner, a tradition begun in the late 1800s by a bishop’s daughter. Against the backdrop of medieval stone, with Wells Cathedral nearby, the sight of a swan chiming politely for lunch is like something out of a fairytale. Unfortunately I have no photos of that, just a lone swan in winter, gliding on the dark water of the moat.
The white swans entered mythology as symbols of purity, grace, the aristocracy (many families had them on their coat of arms), the mystical, and beautiful.
What must the antipodean explorers have thought of the black swans in Australia? The first recorded sighting was in 1636 off Berneir Island where Antonie Caen sighted 'black birds as large as swans'.
Thirty years later, Willem de Vlamingh’s expedition recroded many on the west coast of Australia, and particularly on what's now called Swan River near Perth. He caught two of them, but they never made it back to England. The black swan is now the symbol of Western Australia, a quiet nod to history and the isolation and beauty of that far west state.
But they were also spotted in eastern Australia, near present day Sydney, by Captain Phillip in 1988.
Skeptical and amazed, Europeons came to see the black swan as a symbol of the impossible and unreal, challenging their views on nature and purity. IN fact the philosopher John Stuart Mill in 1843 used the statement “all swans are white” to demonstrate that just because we have a huge amount of consistent observations, it doesn't mean we can directly induce something to be correct.
The explorers noted they were just as elegant and graceful as the white, but also noted their large size, black plumage and striking red bill that contrasted the dark feathers.
To this day I still find the black swans a wonderful sight, even though they were more familiar to me growing up than the white ones! They appear in the lake district in northern Victoria, begging for bread from locals who oblige as they chat and watch the water.
Sometimes we're lucky for them to land on our dam at the bottom of the property where we cry - LOOK! a black swan! as if it's a unicorn or something. In fact, in medieval times people would have thought a unicorn more likely. Perhaps it's our Europeon genes. They certainly make me get the camera out. One came to check out the Defender where we were parked - at least we'd like to think so, though it was likely after bread.
It's funny that for many years, I didn't really notice anything remarkable about the black swan. It was a familiar sight where we holidayed near certain river estuaries or lakes, and it was part of the country landscape in which I grew up. To me, a black swan was less unusual than a white one, and it was only when I went to Europe that I realised the black swan didn't exist in the Northern Hemisphere. It's often only when you go away that you realise the uniqueness of the place you live, and it's flora and fauna, and grow to appreciate it.
Whilst I'm not claiming any of these photos are worthy of a photo challenge, I thought it worth posting in response to 
With Love,
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