Mute Swans in late November are planning ahead. Walking along the Bure this morning, I noticed a lot of swan activity. Bow-waving Cobs chase one another to defend a stretch a river; with wings raised, neck arched in sprung strength and with the chest thrust forward the dominant male makes short work of his younger rival.
Above Burgh Mill, a younger pair seem totally engrossed as they face one other in mid-stream, their mirrored necks forming a perfect lyre shape. They pay little heed to our passing. The scene is repeated by another pair beside the little footbridge over the Mermaid.
With these scenes of ritual choreography it is so clear why they are the inspiration for human dance.
Elsewhere the dullness of the day is emphasised by the tap of falling leaves. The trees will be bare soon.