Not so fast with the 'swan song'

Before I heard wildlife biologist Dale Becker’s talk, all I knew about trumpeter swans came from an East Coast writer who had never seen one.

At the April 9 meeting of Flathead Wildlife, Becker told a comeback story that held palpable moments of heartbreak. Such as when he first released a nesting pair of trumpeter swans on the Flathead Indian Reservation and in short order found them both dead from power line collisions. The photo slide of it was shocking: a collapse of pure white crumpled in a grassy ditch.  

“These guys are so big, they can’t just turn on a dime,” Becker said, and referred to the cable strung through the air: “Once they see it, they’re too close.” Along U.S. 93 near Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge, orange and silver reflectors now dangle from the lines. They can save trumpeters’ lives. 

A trumpeter swan can weigh up to 36 pounds, stretch its wings 6 feet, and live into its 20s. It is the heaviest flying bird and largest waterfowl species in the world.  

Trumpeter swans hit a nationwide low of 35 birds in 1931. Hunting, lead poisoning and habitat loss took their toll. Extinction looked imminent. Thanks to protections and recovery efforts, trumpeters are back, numbering in the tens of thousands. 

Becker, now retired, was hired on with the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes in 1989. “I talked a lot with tribal elders,” he said. “They treated me like a grandson” as he worked to “blend a wildlife program with cultural traditions and ideas.” 

The “glacial pothole country” south of the Flathead — ponds full of delicious aquatic vegetation — as well as restored wetlands near Dixon make ideal environs for trumpeters. Of the hundreds of birds released, Decker said, “by and large they stayed pretty much local.”  

At the Ninepipe refuge I recently watched a pair tack to and fro as if performing their own “Swan Lake.” I also heard of some in the Foys Lakes area and told a friend. Two days later she reported back, “I saw them!” 

The reservation’s population of trumpeters has surpassed 300, adding to Montana’s other trumpeter haunts in the Blackfoot, Madison and Centennial valleys. 

One of my favorite early camping memories is of a multifamily trip to Red Rock Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. I don’t think we saw swans, but camping is magical and made more so when listening at bedtime to E.B. White’s “The Trumpet of the Swan,” read in the sonorous voice of my stepdad. 

The fire sputtered to darkness, and we kids burrowed into our sleeping bags as we followed the tale of Louis, a young trumpeter swan that couldn’t trumpet, until his dad procured one in Billings. 

The instrument helps Louis score nightclub gigs and accommodation at the Ritz, where he sleeps in the bathtub and orders watercress sandwiches by the dozen from room service.  

White saved his best novel for last. It is infused with love for Montana, where White took an epic road trip in a Model T with his college buddy in 1922; he longed to come back. In a way, he did — by dreaming up Louis, who, like many real trumpeters, returned home. 

Margaret E. Davis, executive director of the Northwest Montana History Museum, can be reached at mdavis@dailyinterlake.com.