SHEPPERTON, England — With a flurry of flapping wings and a cacophony of confused squeaking, the swan and her downy young cygnets were plucked from the River Thames and passed from boat to shore.
But the men hadn’t come to harm the regal birds. Clad in red-and-white outfits emblazoned with the royal livery, today the boatmen were beginning an annual five-day journey to count the population of the waterway’s swans, which have theoretically belonged to the monarch since the 12th century.
It’s a ceremony that mixes royal pageantry with animal conservation. “Swan Upping” — so called because the boatmen catch the swans by lifting them up from the river — dates from medieval times, when the royal family guarded its rights to the young cygnets as a highly valued delicacy at banquets.
These days the graceful birds are no longer on the menu, but the census carries on as a conservation and education exercise. Queen Elizabeth II still retains the legal right to claim any unmarked swan swimming in any English waterway, although in practice she only claims the swans on the Thames — and then only as a tradition.
“It’s a good thing we’re doing. Back in the 12th century the swans had their natural habitat, but now they have to fend for themselves,” said David Barber, who holds the title of the Queen’s Swan Marker. His main job is to ensure the swan population is maintained.
Barber, who sported a bright red-and-gold jacket, white trousers and a captain’s hat crowned with a white swan feather, leads an entourage of traditional wooden skiffs flying royal flags on its 79-mile journey up stretches of the Thames.
The party usually sets out from Sunbury near London, and sails north to Oxfordshire, passing curious locals and tourists in the idyllic English countryside. When they travel past Windsor Castle — one of the monarch’s many homes — the boatmen traditionally rise and salute “Her Majesty the Queen, Seigneur of the Swans.”
The Swan Uppers moved fast when they spotted a family of swans with young cygnets.
The rowers drew the boats in and trapped the family with their oars, before picking up the birds, trussing their legs, and lining them up neatly on shore to check them for injuries and weigh them. Barber and his helpers check the birds’ identification rings, put a ruler to a cygnet’s head, and lifted them up to be stroked by local children.
After a few minutes the birds are usually released back into the water, unless they’re found to be injured. In those cases, the swans are taken to nearby facilities for treatment.
The swan population has dwindled in the past few years because of flooding, cold weather and attacks by young people armed with air rifles and catapults, Barber said.
“There were many reports of fatalities among the mute swan population as swans were caught in ice on lakes and ponds,” he said.
Data collected during the census — which takes place in the third week of July every year — enables conservationists to tailor methods to protect the swans, which remain at risk from concrete or steel banks, vandalism and fishing tackle.
For the Uppers — many of whom make a living on the river in or around London in the rest of the year — the ceremony was a calming and gratifying experience.
Stephen Woollacott, who had been part of the census for five years, was all smiles as the party broke for lunch and a beer after a morning of hard rowing.
“It’s an escape from the madding crowd,” he said.
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