"See You in the Fall!"

There once lived a mute swan on Lake Julia in Buhl Park of northwestern Pennsylvania. People called her Grace for her beauty and smooth gliding on the lake's surface, and were always happy and excited to see her. Grace moved around other lakes in the area, including Avalon Lake, but Lake Julia was her favorite because it was slightly bigger and had more food in its waters. Besides, some people brought her bread and grains even though there were clear signs on the lake warning against feeding the waterfowl.

Grace was a lone swan, but she always had the company of geese and ducks. The Canada geese were not particularly her favorite because they were graceless, bold, and noisy, traveled in large flocks, and seemed to have insatiable appetites. They also left so much poop behind that people were not willing to approach the shoreline to feed Grace and the ducks.

Ducks were fun to have around, though. They always followed Grace in her wake like little soldiers in a triangular parade formation who knew their place. Grace felt quite regal moving in front of them, and protective of them, like they were her little siblings. They'd only get Grace's leftovers and never tried to get ahead of her. And if some brazen ones did, a slight tap of Grace's bill on their heads would snap them right back into their place.

Once, a little duckling was bold enough to get ahead of Grace for food, and when Grace tapped him on the head, he bit her basal knob. That shot an immediate shock of pain right into Grace's eyes and she lost her vision for a second. After she shook it off, she was so angry she could have snapped the neck of that little duckling. Instead, she hissed at his mother, "Put your naughty kid in place or get out!" The mom took the duckling to the end of Grace's wake and gave him such a scolding that he never tried it again. Neither did any of the others, and peace was restored to Grace's little procession.

Twice a year, Grace's peace on Lake Julia was disturbed by the migration of tundra swans. In the fall, she would mostly only hear them in the sky, dashing southeast and flying over. However, in the spring, when flying to the Arctic, they would often stop on Lake Julia for a short rest. She kept her distance from them because they also traveled in large flocks and made a lot of noise. Not the rough honking noise of the Canada geese, though.

The tundra swans sang high-pitched, flute-like calls, airy coos and melodic whistles that floated across the lake. Their oo-oo-oo, hoo-ho-hoo, ow-ow-ow sounded so musical that Grace felt almost intimidated. But in the end, she simply dismissed them as loud calls for attention. Birds of grace and dignity like mute swans had no need to announce their arrival, Grace thought, as their presence spoke for itself. Therefore, she tried to stay away from the tundra swans.

They seemed to understand. Most of the time, they would simply rest up on Lake Julia for a little while, get some food, and continue on their way up north to Arctic Canada. And Grace would continue gliding the waters of Lake Julia, which she considered to be her home.

But in the fall of the strange year when humans were staying in their homes because of something they called a "pandemic," a southbound flock of about ten tundra swans suddenly fell from the sky and decided to take a rest on Lake Julia. After some time, they approached Grace. She felt threatened at first, because even though she was bigger than any one of them, if it came to a territorial fight, she wouldn't be able to fend them all off on her own. And the ducks, of course, would be of no help.

However, the tundra swan leader called out long before they reached her, "Excuse me, ma'am, but we noticed that you live here alone. Pardon our nosiness, but what happened to your mate?"

Grace did not expect a question like that.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she hissed defensively.

The tundra swan stopped moving, as did his flock.

"It isn't," he said. "We're sorry. We only wondered because swans aren't meant to be alone."

Something in his tone broke Grace's defenses. The entire flock genuinely looked concerned.

"He was killed by a car two springs ago," Grace said, lowering and hiding her head under her right wing. She didn't want the strangers to see her face.

"We are so sorry," the entire flock cried melodically in unison, surrounding Grace in a circle. "If you don't mind, we will just sit here with you for a while."

If humans had been in the park that day, they would have seen an unusual sight: ten tundra swans floating around Grace, the mate-less mute swan of Lake Julia, occasionally cooing something soft and comforting to her.

The name of the tundra swans’ leader was Everett. Grace and the flock became fast friends during their forced stopover that November, and Grace got a glimpse into their migratory life.

“So, you are now going south, and fell from the sky. But you are eager to leave. Why such a rush? Why not stay a little longer?” Grace asked.

“Southeast, to be exact,” Everett said. “Our fall migration is a race against coming winter storms. We need to reach the warmer Atlantic waters before the lakes freeze here. The storm is coming right on our tails. We need to leave.”

“But when you fly over here in the spring again, will you stay longer?” Grace asked hopefully.

“Yes, I promise you,” Everett cooed, departing.

And they did. In the spring next year, humans were excited to see the tundra swans migrating through northwestern Pennsylvania, taking their flyover as the sign of winter leaving. Because they were not in a rush against the worsening weather, the swans could spend more time on Lake Julia. Grace was happy to see Everett and his flock.

“So, you are migrating now to a colder place,” Grace started out. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to be in the places THAT cold.”

“You live here. Doesn’t it get very cold in the winter?” Everett retorted.

“Exactly! I can barely survive the winters here. Why would you go to places even colder?”

“We swans are built that way. Besides, we go there when the Arctic starts thawing. It gives us a lot of food and good breeding grounds.”

“Oh, really? I always thought that the Arctic was cold and lifeless,” Grace said.

“Oh, it’s the opposite of that. There’s so much food in the spring and summer there, you’d be surprised! Algae, mosses, roots, stems, leaves of pondweeds… the wet-meadow tundra is full of things we can eat, including some mollusks and insects…”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! I would never have thought!” Grace said.

“Yeah, it’s home and we know where everything is. I know a lot of small ponds full of food I take my kids to. Did you and your partner have any kids, if I may ask?” Everett said delicately.

“Yes, in the first year we were together, we had two babies. They are adults now, mating farther up north. I go visit them occasionally.”

“Well, seems like you have a pretty good entourage to keep you company here,” Everett joked, looking at the ducks. “Would you maybe want to go with us? We’ll show you around our home.”

“I’m too old for this, and don’t think I will be able to fly such long distances. Maybe when I was younger, but even then I’m not sure I was built for that. I will see you in the fall when you fly back.”

"Yes, but only in the sky. We'll sing a greeting to you!"

This went on for several years: Everett and his growing flock would make a longer stopover on the way up north, sharing their stories of the tundra with Grace, and teasing her about her loyal duck procession. And on the way back in the fall, they would fly low over the lake and coo at Grace in a synchronized greeting.

Over time, Grace became fond of them and eagerly awaited their migration every year.

This spring, they stopped on the way up north and stayed a little longer. Everett had ten grandkids now, and his flock grew to about a hundred. Grace told him that her children had given her four grandkids as well. They caught up on each other’s news and shared the lake’s waters and food. And then Everett’s flock left, as usual.

About a month later, Grace heard the familiar cooing, but softer and in distress. At first, she thought she was mistaken as the tundra swans must now be building nests in the tundra wetlands. But then she raised her head and saw Everett’s flock circling and landing on Lake Julia. They were clearly exhausted.

“What happened?” Grace asked, concerned. “Why are you back so early?”

“Our home is no more. The spring came too early,” Everett said.

“What do you mean?”

“We were too late. We missed the great thaw.”

“But you left here at the same time you always do.”

“We know.”

As Grace observed more tundra swans landing on the lake, she noticed that humans started to gather around the lake as well. To them, it was unusual that so many swans returned months before the fall migration. They took out their binoculars and cameras, excited to watch and take pictures of so many swans on their small lake.

But as more and more swans were arriving, their excitement turned into concern. The small lake and the surrounding areas became one big moving body of white swans, who circled each other and cooed in distress. And there were more V-formations of tundra swans flying in the sky, loudly singing and whistling the alarm.

Grace had trouble staying near Everett on the water as more swans landed on the lake.

“So, what are you going to do?” she shouted at him as the distance between them grew larger. She still was noticeably larger and distinct among the tundra swans, and she tried to keep her regal stature, but it was increasingly difficult as the lake got crowded with tundra swans.

“I don’t know,” Everett yelled back. “We cannot go back to the Atlantic. It’s summer there. There’s no place for us to nest.”

“Did you try to find other breeding grounds?” Grace asked.

“Our ponds flooded,” a swan from another flock chimed in.

“The plants in our pond came too early. By the time we arrived, there was no food,” another said.

“There was nothing where my parents had nested for years,” a third one said.

“Our home is gone,” Everett concluded.

When other arriving tundra swans heard that, they repeated in unison, “Our home is gone.” It sounded like one long desperate cry.

At that moment, humans realized something and dashed away from the lake, clearing the space, pointing at the sky and shouting something to each other.

Grace looked up again and saw more tundra swans in the air. They were circling around, forming something akin to a large swan tornado. And then they all suddenly dropped onto the lake.

“What’s happening?” Grace exclaimed, spreading her wings to cover up the ducks.

“We are all exhausted, traveling for so long without food. These ones must have traveled from farther north.”

The last thing Grace saw was humans running back, trying to attend to the swans that fell on the ground and didn’t move. Big cars with sirens started to arrive, moving as close to the lake as possible. Humans carefully loaded the exhausted birds into the cars, taking them away.

Trying to keep his flock together, Everett lost sight of Grace. When he finally located her, she was lifelessly floating on the water. He made his way to her through other swans, pushed his neck beneath Grace's and lifted her head gently above the water. She was not breathing.

Around him, hundreds of tundra swans cried for a home they had just lost.

“At least you died at home,” Everett whispered to Grace.