Morning at the Loch Lomond aquarium

Jackson and I spent our Monday morning at a little aquarium on the shore of Loch Lomond. Run by a company (Sea Life) that owns 35 aquariums in Europe and the United States, the Loch Lomond aquarium is worth a visit only if you're a local. As a tourist, you wouldn't bother — it's small and has no real draw or attraction that would merit your time. And if you want to visit an aquarium in Scotland, your first choice likely would be the national aquarium, Deep Sea World, in Edinburgh.

Jellyfish.

That said, the Loch Lomond aquarium is pleasant and friendly. While their collection of species is unimpressive, they've worked hard to present it well and show it in the best light possible. They have a short ocean tunnel to wander through, some otters to watch play, and a rooftop view of the lake. It's worth a couple of hours of time for your kid(s), and the outdoor mall surrounding the aquarium offers tourist shops and some pleasant cafes. Make sure to buy your tickets online, which are 30% cheaper than at the door (and kids under age 3 are free).

Entrance to the aquarium.

The aquarium sits on the shore of Loch Lomond.

Jackson was so excited to visit he ran in without taking off his coat.

Fish from the loch.

The aquarium has three otters.

We spent more time at the otters than anywhere else.

Seahorse.

Jackson loved this view.

I have to admit, I crawled in and looked around, too.

Smile!

Not so much from you.

Jellyfish again! We stopped at this tank multiple times.

The aquarium's cafe and rooftop terrace look over the lake.

As a family, we're big fans of aquariums. Our visit to the Loch Lomond aquarium was underwhelming, partly because of its small size and partly because its offerings aren't all that exciting. Moreover, the last aquarium we visited, in Barcelona, was one of Europe's best; just about any aquarium was going to pale in comparison.

But it was a nice way to spend a rainy morning. It's less than 30 minutes from our house in Glasgow. This summer we'll be spending some days on the loch, picnicking, hiking, and taking a tour boat to some of the islands. The aquarium will be a fun and quick stop during a day at the loch.

Dragon visit

We had a visitor this afternoon.

A visit from Zog. The dragon.

He has big feet and he stomped on our house. When he came in, Jackson took him for a walk around our living room in a stroller. Zog liked it!

* Zog, by Julia Donaldson, illustrated by Axel Scheffler.

Jackson fed him "dragon food" in a bowl, which is similar to dog food. It tastes like chicken and rice and broccoli and peppers. Zog also eats bananas. And peppermints, when his throat is sore.

The boy and the dragon played catch with a racquetball. Their conversation was extensive, but consisted of a lot of "here you go" and "you missed it!" and "Dad, the ball went under the chair!" They did not like the suggestion to go capture princesses, preferring instead to lick the window on the backdoor. Of course.

We read many Julia Donaldson books. (See here.) But we haven't read Zog for days. Not sure what prompted today's surprise dragon visit.

After awhile, Jack went to the couch. Zog sat on his lap while they played on a LeapPad. Zog likes to give small creatures baths.

Zog did not, repeat NOT, breathe fire. That would be ridiculous.

Also, I am informed that I am Zog's friend. But I should not try to play catch with him, because that leads to protests and "NO!" and brimming tears. I am not an expert in dragon etiquette, unlike Jackson.

At age two, the border between real life and imaginary scenarios is not defined. They smudge into each other. Imaginary creatures can streak into real life, while real life rules may constrain dragons from breathing fire in the house or toy trains from flying. Actually, some of the trains can fly, if it's deemed too annoying to follow the track to the other side of the room.

Zog left us at lunchtime. He didn't say goodbye. Just departed, without comment.

As I type this, I hear snatches of conversations in the playroom. A train engine, Gordon, is pulling freight and instructs "James, get out of my way!" Rosie is not supposed to back up. Thomas is "ready" to "pull milk," Toby is in the train shed, and now cows are on the track, the gate at the station is open and how am I going to get over there and Gordon goes round and round and CRASH and we need Cranky and what is Gordon doing asked Rosie and oops sorry Thomas and oh no and back up and please somebody in front of me pull my train and there is a crack in the track and I have the breakdown train said Thomas and  and   and     and      and        and           and             and               and

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.