Monday Exposure: The Kelpies

The Kelpies were unveiled in April 2014 in Falkirk, Scotland. The statues bestride an intersection of the Forth & Clyde canal with a new canal extension reaching to the River Forth.

                    1          year of fabrication and assembly

                    2          Kelpie heads

                    8          years of planning by the artist

                    9          number of the motorway, the M9, which runs past the Kelpies

                  30          welder fabricators who assembled the internal structures

                  32          meters down for the piles into bedrock

                  90          days of assembly on-site

                  98          feet high

                300          weight of each Kelpie in tonnes (i.e., 661,286 pounds)

                990          unique stainless steel skin plates

             1,200          tons for the foundations

           18,000          components for each Kelpie

         350,000          expected visitors per year

      5,000,000          pounds sterling for total cost of design and construction

A "kelpie" is a mythical creature residing in Scottish lochs, often taking the shape of a horse. These kelpies are modeled on Clydesdales.

Created by Glaswegian artist Andy Scott, the statues are the largest art installation in Scotland and the largest equine statues in the world.

The once and future cygnets

Last month, I wrote about the swans we encounter along the Forth & Clyde canal. One pair had produced a clutch of nine eggs. I expressed my misgivings about the safety of the young, whether as eggs or newborn cygnets.

When we got back from Paris, we found seven new cygnets with their mama and papa! Seven out of nine eggs was an excellent survival ratio. The wee ones stuck close to their parents while touring their section of the canal. All seemed well.

Mama and papa kept close watch over their new babies.

The cygnets followed mama as she looked for food.

They got noticeably bigger in just a few days.

And then they were gone.

All of them.

We've been told that year after year the cygnets along this stretch of the canal don't survive. But the ducklings on the same stretch of the canal do. No one knows why.

Although a few folks venture guesses like disease, my theory is predation. Whether those predators are land-based or waterborne, I have no idea. The sudden disappearance of all seven at the same time — with no trace of feathers, entrails, etc. — gives me pause. A dog or a fox or a snake might get a couple of cygnets at a time. All seven at once? Without a trace? I worry the predator is human.

The mama and papa carry on. They show no sign of fear, readily approaching for food.

The male approaches to see if food will be offered. Sorry, buddy. Just an unpaid photo shoot.

If the swans stay true to form, they'll have another clutch next year. And the cygnets will then disappear. I wonder if the Queen's royal Swan Marker has interest in her Scottish swans. We could use his expertise along the canal.

Seigneur of the Swans

Unless it has been marked for private ownership, any "mute swan" in the United Kingdom residing in open water belongs to the Queen.

I'm not sure this guy agrees:

A male "mute swan" monitors passersby on his stretch of the Forth & Clyde canal.

The Crown has claimed ownership of the "mute swans" since at least the 12th century. As a practical matter, the monarchy only exercises this ownership over swans on parts of the River Thames and some of its tributaries. Every July, in a ceremony called Swan Upping, a team of royal swan wranglers — the Queen's Swan Marker, the Royal Swan Uppers, and the Swan Uppers of the Vintners' and Dyers' livery companies — row skiffs up the River Thames for five days. Rather than capturing the swans for dinner as in olden days, they now take measurements and put rings on the legs of all the swans who have cygnets (i.e., baby swans) that they find during those five days.

Nowadays, the information they gather is used for conservation, including tracking by the British Trust for Ornithology. Essentially, the Swan Upping is a swan census.

When the swan ranglers sight a brood of cygnets, they cry out "All up!" to signal that their boats should get in position. As they pass Windsor Castle (one of the monarchy's homes), the rowers stand at attention, raise their oars, and cry out "Her Majesty the Queen, Seigneur of the Swans!"

Truly.

{Ed.'s note: The Crown also possesses ownership of the "Fishes Royal." According to a still-valid 1324 statute passed during the reign of Edward II, the monarch "shall have . . . whales and sturgeons taken in the sea or elsewhere within the realm." Today, any whales, dolphins, porpoises, or sturgeons captured within three miles of shore (or which wash up on a beach) can be claimed by the Queen.}

A "mute swan" is the general white swan of the United Kingdom, as well as many parts of Europe and Asia. The swan's plumage is all white. Its beak is orange, bordered by black, with a black knob on the bill. Having been introduced in the United States in the 19th century, it's now deemed an invasive species. The bird is called "mute" not because it's quiet, but because it is not as loud as some other swan species.

All white plumage, except for dirt.

We encounter mute swans all the time in Glasgow. Several breeding pairs live on our nearby stretch of the Forth & Clyde canal. A singleton lives at Lock 27, across from a pub of the same name. Kate crosses the canal every day for work. Jackson, Mattie, and I cross or follow the canal several times a week on walks.

On a winter stroll along the canal.

We're moving in to spring now. Our temperatures have increased from average highs of 40s Fahrenheit to highs of 50s Fahrenheit. Daylight lasts for 13 hours. We have more sun and less rain. Flowers peek up out of the ground.

Flowers like these are erupting around Glasgow.

As we move into spring, the paired swans are starting to lay eggs. On Kate's walk to work yesterday, she found six eggs in a swan nest. Today, she noted that someone had helpfully provided bread crumbs for the incubating mother.

Both males and females attend to the nest.

We have many foxes in the area, so the incubating pair needs to stay on or near the eggs at all times.

If she's done laying eggs — they typically lay one a day — then it'll be another six weeks or so before they hatch. I'm a little fearful for the clutch. Besides danger from a large number of foxes, the nest rests on the shore of the canal quite close to a sidewalk where many people and dogs pass by daily. The potential for disruption or confrontation, either before or after the eggs hatch, looms ominously.

Perhaps I'm needlessly worried. All the swans on the canal are quite comfortable with humans and dogs passing by. They'll readily approach for food, of course. But even if no food is offered, many stand their ground without concern. These royal birds do seem to rule the roost along the canal.

Unperturbed by toddler or large unleashed dog.

How we ended up in Glasgow

We moved from Raleigh, North Carolina to Glasgow, Scotland. Many local Glaswegians have asked us, "But why would you move here from such a lovely place in America?"

Since Scotland currently is in the midst of a genuinely historic weeks-long wave of heat and sunshine, I usually answer: "We came for the hot and sunny weather" or "To get a tan." The locals laugh and assure me this weather won't last long.

I know. In our first three weeks, I generally wore pants and often a sweatshirt or fleece vest. In summer.

Enjoying the view on a hot and sunny day during a boat cruise on Loch Lomond.

Truthfully, we moved to Scotland because Kate got offered a job as a Lecturer in the veterinary school at the University of Glasgow.

How did she get that job?

Because she's awesome.

Quad on the main campus of the University of Glasgow.

After completing her veterinary degree at North Carolina State University, Kate wanted to continue her studies with a residency in anatomic pathology.

Kate (third from left) at graduation from veterinary school.

The vet school, however, didn't have any positions or funding for a resident to start until a year after she graduated. The school wanted to keep her, so it arranged a deal with one of the major veterinary diagnostic companies to pay for her three years of residency if she then agreed to work for the company for three years after she finished the residency. The company had a local North Carolina office and we expected to be living in or near Raleigh for many years to come. But in the third year of her residency the company had financial difficulties and released Kate from her obligation, though it still paid for the residency.

Taking our newborn baby to trivia night at the Flying Saucer in Raleigh with other vet school residents.

Instead of having the next several years mapped out, Kate suddenly had the option of considering any job, anywhere. No more restrictions, no more boundaries. She buckled down and passed her board exam — the letters after her name are now D.V.M., D.A.C.V.P.  (update: now they're D.V.M., D.A.C.V.P., M.R.C.V.S.) — and started looking to see what the job possibilities might be.

She cast a wide net, looking for good quality jobs regardless of location. We considered options as far away as Singapore and Australia. Once we started considering jobs overseas, the jobs in America lacked a bit of luster. 

Ultimately, the University of Glasgow offered a job which would give Kate great experience with solid pay and the chance to live overseas and experience a different culture. Our toddler is several years away from school and easily moveable. Living in Europe gives easy access and comparatively low cost to travel throughout the continent and beyond. Despite the professional, financial, and personal risks involved in making such a move, we would have regretted not taking the chance more than any of the risks involved. No regrets so far.

Splashing in a puddle on a cool and rainy June day in Glasgow, along the Forth & Clyde canal.