The song of the swan keeper

The trap was set. The hunters were in place. The prey was floating majestically on a pond at the edge of the Longboat Key Club’s Harbourside Golf Course: swans.

The hunters — myself with Longboat Key’s resident swan keeper David Novak and Eric Bors-Koefoed — were not looking for fowl to fill tables during the holidays on this fine day, Dec. 22.

I was there to help Novak and Bors-Koefoed capture four cygnets for DNA testing to determine the sex of each bird. Novak and Bors-Koefoed were successful in their efforts. I left with a pair of soggy shoes and a reminder that swans terrify me.

The purpose of the DNA testing was to help Novak in his effort to control the Key’s long-term swan population. To do that, he’s forming same-sex pairs of swans, which will mate with a same-sex bird if paired in the same territory.

Because swans are territorial in nature, they view their cygnets as intruders as they reach maturity and will chase them away before mating again in the spring, meaning that Novak had to relocate the cygnets.

As I approached Novak that sunny day and saw the peaceful birds, I had a disturbing flashback to childhood memories of waterfowl chasing my brother and me around a pond in Cape May, N.J. I could almost hear my grandmother’s laughter again.

But, as Bors-Koefoed explained the plan, I felt a sudden feeling of courage. They’re just birds, right?
Observer Video Producer Colin Reid and I took our places on the north side of a small inlet adjacent to the Longboat Publix shopping center, while Novak assembled a bright orange construction barrier across the waterway. Novak’s young family friends, clad in board shorts and flip-flops, waited on the other side.
At this point I began to laugh. Novak and his team were crazy to think they could catch these large creatures with their bare hands. Of course, I was wrong.

Bors-Koefoed navigated a small kayak into the pond and the two larger swans immediately took to the sky. The plan was working perfectly.

“When they realized that something nefarious was going on the two parents flew off … and left the babies alone,” Novak said. “And then the babies sought relief on dry land — which is exactly where we wanted them.”

Novak sprinkled dried corn into the inlet to lure the swans toward the barrier and began clapping and yelling to push them onto the golf course.

Novak’s crew sprung into action. Unfortunately, I was stranded on the wrong side of the waterway and was stuck observing.

In less than 10 minutes, two of the swans were swaddled in canvas bags decorated with bow ties. They were not happy.

But, the two remaining cygnets had escaped the clutches of the swan hunters and were now back in the water, floating along as if nothing had happened.

Reid and I were on guard duty.

Drivers passing the commotion on Bay Isles Parkway probably didn’t know our mission was preservation.
“What are you doing to our swans!?” shouted a passing motorist.

I had to explain Novak’s same-sex coupling to at least four Longboat residents, many of whom seemed genuinely concerned about the day’s action. The security guard manning a nearby gate found the situation hilarious.

The swans, which had lost the use of their wings inside the bags, were rolling around like strange, feathered snakes. One managed to bite my red Observer T-shirt.

I left Reid with the two birds and set off to find the other two cygnets.

Bors-Koefoed diligently paddled through the waterways while Novak drove a golf cart toward the birds’ location.

By the time I reached the other side of the pond, the birds had been captured.

I was at least able to help load the four cygnets into the back of Bors-Koefoed’s truck.

While I am proud to say I helped further Novak’s mission to control the swan population on Longboat Key, one thing’s certain: I’m not quitting my day job.