THE TRUMPET OF THE SWAN(2)
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昨儿没听读，理由万万千千。不知今能否补上。
啥也不说了，本月只读这本，其他靠边。
Chapter 2
The Pond
The Pond
The pond Sam had discovered on that spring
morning was seldom visited by any human being.
All winter, snow had covered the ice; the pond
lay cold and still under its white blanket. Most
of the time there wasn't a sound to be heard. The
frog was asleep. The chipmunk was asleep.
Occasionally a jay would cry out. And sometimes at
night the fox would bark--a high, rasping bark.
Winter seemed to last forever.
But one day a change came over the woods and the
pond. Warm air, soft and kind, blew through the
trees. The ice, which had softened during the night,
began to melt. Patches of open water appeared.
All the creatures that lived in the pond and in the
woods were glad to feel the warmth. They heard and
felt the breath of spring, and they stirred with new
life and hope. There was a good, new smell in the
air, a smell of earth waking after its long
sleep. The frog, buried in the mud at the
bottom of the pond, knew that spring was here. The
chickadee knew and was delighted (almost everything
delights a chickadee). The vixen, dozing in
her den, knew she would soon have kits. Every
creature knew that a better, easier time was at
hand--warmer days, pleasanter nights. Trees were
putting out green buds; the buds were swelling.
Birds began arriving from the south. A pair of
ducks flew in. The Red-winged Blackbird
arrived and scouted the pond for nesting sites. A
small sparrow with a white throat arrived and
sang, "Oh, sweet Canada, Canada,
Canada!"
And if you had been sitting by the pond on that first
warm day of spring, suddenly, toward the end of the
afternoon, you would have heard a stirring sound high above you
in the air--a sound like the sound of trumpets.
"Ko-hoh, ko-hoh!"
And if you had looked up, you would have seen, high
overhead, two great white birds. They flew
swiftly, their legs stretched out straight behind,
their long white necks stretched out ahead, their
powerful wings beating steady and strong. "Ko-hoh,
ko-hoh, ko-hoh!" A thrilling noise in the
sky, the trumpeting of swans.
When the birds spotted the pond, they
began circling, looking the place over from the
air. Then they glided down and came to rest in the
water, folding their long wings neatly along their
sides and turning their heads this way and that to study
their new surroundings. They were Trumpeter
Swans, pure white birds with black bills.
They had liked the looks of the swampy pond and
had decided to make it their home for a while and
raise a family.
The two swans were tired from the long flight.
They were glad to be down out of the sky. They paddled
slowly about and then began feeding, thrusting their
necks into the shallow water and pulling roots and
plants from the bottom. Everything about the swans was
white except their bills and their feet; these were
black. They carried their heads high. The pond
seemed a different place because of their arrival.
For the next few days, the swans rested. When
they were hungry, they ate. When they were thirsty--which
was a great deal of the time--they drank. On the tenth
day, the female began looking around to find a
place to build her nest.
morning was seldom visited by any human being.
All winter, snow had covered the ice; the pond
lay cold and still under its white blanket. Most
of the time there wasn't a sound to be heard. The
frog was asleep. The chipmunk was asleep.
Occasionally a jay would cry out. And sometimes at
night the fox would bark--a high, rasping bark.
Winter seemed to last forever.
But one day a change came over the woods and the
pond. Warm air, soft and kind, blew through the
trees. The ice, which had softened during the night,
began to melt. Patches of open water appeared.
All the creatures that lived in the pond and in the
woods were glad to feel the warmth. They heard and
felt the breath of spring, and they stirred with new
life and hope. There was a good, new smell in the
air, a smell of earth waking after its long
sleep. The frog, buried in the mud at the
bottom of the pond, knew that spring was here. The
chickadee knew and was delighted (almost everything
delights a chickadee). The vixen, dozing in
her den, knew she would soon have kits. Every
creature knew that a better, easier time was at
hand--warmer days, pleasanter nights. Trees were
putting out green buds; the buds were swelling.
Birds began arriving from the south. A pair of
ducks flew in. The Red-winged Blackbird
arrived and scouted the pond for nesting sites. A
small sparrow with a white throat arrived and
sang, "Oh, sweet Canada, Canada,
Canada!"
And if you had been sitting by the pond on that first
warm day of spring, suddenly, toward the end of the
afternoon, you would have heard a stirring sound high above you
in the air--a sound like the sound of trumpets.
"Ko-hoh, ko-hoh!"
And if you had looked up, you would have seen, high
overhead, two great white birds. They flew
swiftly, their legs stretched out straight behind,
their long white necks stretched out ahead, their
powerful wings beating steady and strong. "Ko-hoh,
ko-hoh, ko-hoh!" A thrilling noise in the
sky, the trumpeting of swans.
When the birds spotted the pond, they
began circling, looking the place over from the
air. Then they glided down and came to rest in the
water, folding their long wings neatly along their
sides and turning their heads this way and that to study
their new surroundings. They were Trumpeter
Swans, pure white birds with black bills.
They had liked the looks of the swampy pond and
had decided to make it their home for a while and
raise a family.
The two swans were tired from the long flight.
They were glad to be down out of the sky. They paddled
slowly about and then began feeding, thrusting their
necks into the shallow water and pulling roots and
plants from the bottom. Everything about the swans was
white except their bills and their feet; these were
black. They carried their heads high. The pond
seemed a different place because of their arrival.
For the next few days, the swans rested. When
they were hungry, they ate. When they were thirsty--which
was a great deal of the time--they drank. On the tenth
day, the female began looking around to find a
place to build her nest.
In the spring of the year, nest-building is
uppermost in a bird's mind: it is the most
important thing there is. If she picks a good
place, she stands a good chance of hatching her eggs
and rearing her young. If she picks a poor
place, she may fail to raise a family. The
female swan knew this; she knew the decision
she was making was extremely important.
The two swans first investigated the upper end
of the pond, where a stream flowed slowly in. It was
pleasant there, with reeds and bulrushes. Red-winged
Blackbirds were busy nesting in this part of the
pond, and a pair of Mallard Ducks were
courting. Then the swans swam to the lower end of the
pond, a marsh with woods on one side and a deer
meadow on the other. It was lonely here. From one
shore, a point of land extended out into the pond.
It was a sandy strip, like a little peninsula. And at
the tip of it, a few feet out into the water, was a
tiny island, hardly bigger than a dining table.
One small tree grew on the island, and there were
rocks and ferns and grasses.
"Take a look at this!" exclaimed the
female, as she swam round and around.
"Ko-hoh!" replied her husband, who liked
to have someone ask his advice.
The swan stepped cautiously out onto
the island. The spot seemed made to order--just right
for a nesting place. While the male swan
floated close by, watching, she snooped about
until she found a pleasant spot on the ground.
She sat down, to see how it felt to be sitting
there. She decided it was the right size for her
body. It was nicely located, a couple of
feet from the water's edge. Very convenient. She
turned to her husband.
"What do you think?" she said.
"An ideal location!" he replied. "A
perfect place! And I will tell you why it's a
perfect place," he continued, majestically.
"If an enemy--a fox or a coon or a
coyote or a skunk--wanted to reach this spot with
murder in his heart, he'd have to enter the water and
get wet. And before he could enter the water, he'd
have to walk the whole length of that point of land. And
by that time we'd see him or hear him, and I would
give him a hard time."
The male stretched out his great wings, eight
feet from tip to tip, and gave the water a mighty
clout to show his strength. This made him feel
better right away. When a Trumpeter Swan
hits an enemy with his wing, it is like being hit by a
baseball bat. A male swan, by the way, is
called a "cob." No one knows why, but that's
what he's called. A good many animals have
special names: a male goose is called a
gander, a male cow is called a bull, a male
sheep is called a ram, a male chicken is
called a rooster, and so on. Anyway, the thing
to remember is that a male swan is called a
cob.
The cob's wife pretended not to notice that her
husband was showing off, but she saw it, all right, and
she was proud of his strength and his courage. As
husbands go, he was a good one.
The cob watched his beautiful wife sitting there
on the tiny island. To his great joy, he saw
her begin to turn slowly round and around, keeping
always in the same spot, treading the mud and
grass. She was making the first motions of nesting.
First she squatted down in the place she had
chosen. Then she twisted round and around, tamping the
earth with her broad webbed feet, hollowing it out
to make it like a saucer. Then she reached out and
pulled twigs and grasses toward her and dropped
them at her sides and under her tail, shaping the
nest to her body.
The cob floated close to his mate. He
studied every move she made.
"Now another medium-sized stick, my
love," he said. And she poked her splendid
long white graceful neck as far as it would go,
picked up a stick, and placed it at her side.
"Now another bit of coarse grass," said the
cob, with great dignity.
The female reached for grasses, for moss, for
twigs--anything that was handy. Slowly, carefully,
she built up the nest until she was sitting on
a big grassy mound. She worked at the task for a
couple of hours, then knocked off for the day and
slid into the pond again, to take a drink and have
lunch.
"A fine start!" said the cob, as he gazed
back at the nest. "A perfect beginning! I
don't know how you manage it so cleverly."
"It comes naturally," replied his wife.
"There's a lot of work to it, but on the whole it is
pleasant work."
"Yes," said the cob. "And when you're done, you
have something to show for your trouble--you have a swan's
nest, six feet across. What other bird can say
that?"
"Well," said his wife, "maybe an eagle
can say it."
"Yes, but in that case it wouldn't be a swan's
nest, it would be an eagle's nest, and it would be
high up in some old dead tree somewhere, instead of
right down near the water, with all the conveniences that go
with water."
They both laughed at this. Then they began
trumpeting and splashing and scooping up water and
throwing it on their backs, darting about as though they
had suddenly gone crazy with delight.
"Ko-hoh! Ko-hoh! Ko-hoh!" they
cried.
Every wild creature within a mile and a half of the
pond heard the trumpeting of the swans. The fox
heard, the raccoon heard, the skunk heard. One
pair of ears heard that did not belong to a wild
creature. But the swans did not know that.
uppermost in a bird's mind: it is the most
important thing there is. If she picks a good
place, she stands a good chance of hatching her eggs
and rearing her young. If she picks a poor
place, she may fail to raise a family. The
female swan knew this; she knew the decision
she was making was extremely important.
The two swans first investigated the upper end
of the pond, where a stream flowed slowly in. It was
pleasant there, with reeds and bulrushes. Red-winged
Blackbirds were busy nesting in this part of the
pond, and a pair of Mallard Ducks were
courting. Then the swans swam to the lower end of the
pond, a marsh with woods on one side and a deer
meadow on the other. It was lonely here. From one
shore, a point of land extended out into the pond.
It was a sandy strip, like a little peninsula. And at
the tip of it, a few feet out into the water, was a
tiny island, hardly bigger than a dining table.
One small tree grew on the island, and there were
rocks and ferns and grasses.
"Take a look at this!" exclaimed the
female, as she swam round and around.
"Ko-hoh!" replied her husband, who liked
to have someone ask his advice.
The swan stepped cautiously out onto
the island. The spot seemed made to order--just right
for a nesting place. While the male swan
floated close by, watching, she snooped about
until she found a pleasant spot on the ground.
She sat down, to see how it felt to be sitting
there. She decided it was the right size for her
body. It was nicely located, a couple of
feet from the water's edge. Very convenient. She
turned to her husband.
"What do you think?" she said.
"An ideal location!" he replied. "A
perfect place! And I will tell you why it's a
perfect place," he continued, majestically.
"If an enemy--a fox or a coon or a
coyote or a skunk--wanted to reach this spot with
murder in his heart, he'd have to enter the water and
get wet. And before he could enter the water, he'd
have to walk the whole length of that point of land. And
by that time we'd see him or hear him, and I would
give him a hard time."
The male stretched out his great wings, eight
feet from tip to tip, and gave the water a mighty
clout to show his strength. This made him feel
better right away. When a Trumpeter Swan
hits an enemy with his wing, it is like being hit by a
baseball bat. A male swan, by the way, is
called a "cob." No one knows why, but that's
what he's called. A good many animals have
special names: a male goose is called a
gander, a male cow is called a bull, a male
sheep is called a ram, a male chicken is
called a rooster, and so on. Anyway, the thing
to remember is that a male swan is called a
cob.
The cob's wife pretended not to notice that her
husband was showing off, but she saw it, all right, and
she was proud of his strength and his courage. As
husbands go, he was a good one.
The cob watched his beautiful wife sitting there
on the tiny island. To his great joy, he saw
her begin to turn slowly round and around, keeping
always in the same spot, treading the mud and
grass. She was making the first motions of nesting.
First she squatted down in the place she had
chosen. Then she twisted round and around, tamping the
earth with her broad webbed feet, hollowing it out
to make it like a saucer. Then she reached out and
pulled twigs and grasses toward her and dropped
them at her sides and under her tail, shaping the
nest to her body.
The cob floated close to his mate. He
studied every move she made.
"Now another medium-sized stick, my
love," he said. And she poked her splendid
long white graceful neck as far as it would go,
picked up a stick, and placed it at her side.
"Now another bit of coarse grass," said the
cob, with great dignity.
The female reached for grasses, for moss, for
twigs--anything that was handy. Slowly, carefully,
she built up the nest until she was sitting on
a big grassy mound. She worked at the task for a
couple of hours, then knocked off for the day and
slid into the pond again, to take a drink and have
lunch.
"A fine start!" said the cob, as he gazed
back at the nest. "A perfect beginning! I
don't know how you manage it so cleverly."
"It comes naturally," replied his wife.
"There's a lot of work to it, but on the whole it is
pleasant work."
"Yes," said the cob. "And when you're done, you
have something to show for your trouble--you have a swan's
nest, six feet across. What other bird can say
that?"
"Well," said his wife, "maybe an eagle
can say it."
"Yes, but in that case it wouldn't be a swan's
nest, it would be an eagle's nest, and it would be
high up in some old dead tree somewhere, instead of
right down near the water, with all the conveniences that go
with water."
They both laughed at this. Then they began
trumpeting and splashing and scooping up water and
throwing it on their backs, darting about as though they
had suddenly gone crazy with delight.
"Ko-hoh! Ko-hoh! Ko-hoh!" they
cried.
Every wild creature within a mile and a half of the
pond heard the trumpeting of the swans. The fox
heard, the raccoon heard, the skunk heard. One
pair of ears heard that did not belong to a wild
creature. But the swans did not know that.
