Swansong

The Swans of Wells  had their final Swansong on 14th/15th Sept,
 with a mass gathering at the Bishop’s Palace .   

The stunning medieval building and beautiful gardens, 
home to the Bishops of Bath & Wells for 800 years, 
was a perfect place to view the decorated birds.  

Each swan is to be auctioned on 29th September.  

All monies raised will be donated to local charities.

The Bishop’s Palace is famous for it’s ‘real swans’ who ring a bell by the gatehouse when they want food.  When the bell rings the palace caretakers are alerted and feed the swans!  The palace swans were first taught to ring a bell in the 1870s by the daughter of Bishop Hervey and the tradition has continued ever since.

The swans are trained to associate pulling the bell with food by tying a clump of bread to the bellrope for them to nibble.  When they pull the bread off the bell rings.  Less and less bread is tied onto the rope as they start to understand that pulling the rope and making the bell ring means food will soon appear.

The following extract was taken from the Bishop’s Palace website …

June 2012 – The Bishop’s Palace welcomed a new rehabilitated swan couple to the waters of the moat this June.

“They’ve settled in very well and have been enjoying cruising the entire circumference of the moat, getting their bearings and exploring their new home.

Training has begun with them but, as yet, they haven’t pulled the rope to ring the bell, just nibbled the bread.  It may have something to do with some bolder, cheekier Muscovy ducks that also live on the moat …

They are bustling the new swans out of the way to grab the rope and ring the bell to get fed.  It’s driving us quackers!”

“The swans seem shy” says Paul, “they hang back and let the Muscovy ducks do the ringing as they have learned how to do it.  The swans are slowly improving – hopefully they will get there in the end”.

The Bishop's Swan

Guinevere

She Built a nest of Silver Leaves

She took the purest silver leaves to make her nest,

And wove them in and out,

Pushing them,

Drawing them,

Easing them gently through the warp and weft of reeds.

And as she worked she sang,

And every song revealed a precious thought, 

A cherished moment - things that pleased her most.

Each thought a picture painted on the twigs,

A book of tales among the leaves,

A nest of songs,

A work of love,

A lullaby.

And when her task was done she sighed and slept,

And dreamt of fledglings, warm, protected,

Safe within her silvered hall, her nest of memories.

by Ian Marlow