A PAIR of swans have once again nested near the weir at Station Yard, Malmesbury, and nature lovers who have witnessed previous dramas are concerned about the safety of the babies.

LIZ BRADLEY is following the cygnets' progress for us and describes the dramatic second week.

Tuesday, May 19

11am: I walk along the river’s edge in search of the swan family. The word ‘cygnets’ catches my attention. Two men are enthusing about the swans, and point me in the direction of a willow tree. And there they are, feeding by the bank.

“They love the willow leaves,” one man says. “The adults reach up and strip the leaves off with their beaks.”

I count six cygnets. Where’s the seventh?

As I check the pen’s back, a little creature scuttles from the grass to join its siblings. The man tells me that two weeks ago he’d seen the cob limping. He contacted the town council, and the swan was checked over. He was ok.

“They’re amazing. I hope they all survive,” his colleague says.

7.30pm: On the nest, six cygnets jostle for position under a wing. One stands alone, not ready for bed just yet!

Wednesday, May 20

11am: I am eager to know how many cygnets have survived the night. I ask dog walkers, a lad fishing, a lady at the bus stop, but no sightings.

At Park Road, a truck pulls up. “We haven’t seen the swans at all today,” a man calls out.

It’s the guys I was talking to yesterday by the willow tree. Already the family have celebrity status in the town!

I cross the bridge by The Spice Merchant, and watch a long-tailed tit feed its young. No swans visible here.

7.30pm: A cygnet is paddling furiously down the river, calling repeatedly. It looks so vulnerable in this vast new world.

Heading toward the nest, it takes a sudden turn left in the direction of the weir. A mallard cuts across its path, and the baby follows the duck to the nest.

8pm: I look for the family, but no sign of them. It’s starting to get dark.

The cygnet has gone over the weir! it gets a drenching when it tries pathetically to climb out at the corner. Again I search for the family. If they hear the cygnet, hopefully they will go over the weir, and lead it to safety.

When I return, there is no sign of the young swan. I walk to the little bridge by Abbey Gardens and see what looks like the body of a cygnet washed up in shallow waters.

9pm: The parents have returned to the nest. I count their young; only four! I leave feeling dispirited.

Thursday, May 21: Oops what I thought was a drowned cygnet turns out in daylight to be a stone. However there is no way of knowing whether the lone cygnet has survived.

3.15pm: I receive a text from Judi, a dog walker who keeps an eye on the swans. “Have just seen six cygnets!” it reads. Great. Two of the young must have got back late, or survived the night on their own. One however has perished.

8.15pm: I go on a swan search with Ray from Oak and Furrows Wildlife Rescue Centre. He warns me the van may smell of hedgehogs, and other creatures. He knows the pair of swans well. Once he tended to them after a road accident: “The cob had a bleeding foot; the pen was stunned,” he said.

“A couple of nights B and B, and they were fine.”

We go to Park Road. Ray had spotted two cygnets in undergrowth earlier. Nothing there now, so we head back to the nest.

9pm: The swans have bedded down for the night. Their necks are twisted in 'S' shapes resting on their backs. Ray tells me about calls he’s had from the public: “There’s something wrong with this swan’s neck; it’s all twisted up.”! Their flexible necks allow them to preen and spread a water-repellent over the feathers.

A little downy head pops up from mum’s back. The light is fading, it’s time to go. As I leave, a large shadow of a bird flies low across the weir. It is a heron. They will take cygnets. How precarious life is for the family.

Friday, May 22

11am: It has been raining. I am watching circles ripple outward on the river's surface, when the swans come into view from the left. I count. Six cygnets are alive and well!

Uh-oh! The pen and cob are heading towards the weir. A cygnet goes over, then another! Then two more! The pen peers over the edge, while the cob swims upstream with the remaining two.

The mother goes over the weir. She climbs up a steep bank, and calls to her young, but it is hopeless, they are too small to manage it. She goes back in. Two swim close to her, but where are the others? I spot them huddled together on the bottom step of the weir, getting a soaking. The pen’s calls are drowned out by the noise of the water. The cygnets are stuck, unmoving.

Judi has arrived with her dog. We question how long the cygnets can last under the water flow. It is for the experts to know. I phone Ray from Oak and Furrows Wildlife Rescue Centre. When I helped retrieve a waterlogged cygnet from the bank two years ago, he was supervising. I swam in calm waters, and wearing a life belt. He’ll be about twenty minutes! We are anxious that they hold on. Judi thinks one of the cygnets is slumped over. It’s hard to see behind the white water. The mother swims away with the other pair to the little bridge, where they preen their feathers and dry out on stones.

After ten long minutes, the pen returns, looking and calling. Then suddenly the bedraggled two hop off the weir and swim to her. How lovely to see them reunited. She takes them to a safe spot to recover. It is a reminder that nature often sorts itself out; human intervention without expert knowledge can make a situation worse. The cygnets however are lucky this time, that the water flow isn’t as strong as it has been some years.

Saturday, May 23

5pm: Two children watch enthralled as six cygnets and two adult swans swim under the bridge by the fire station. All are safe. “Arr, adorable” says the little girl. “Cute,” says the boy. Little do the cygnets know that a few weeks down the line, people may say: “Ugh, aren’t they ugly!”

I head to the green at Park Road. In the distance through leaf and blossom a swan glides into view , followed by its mate and their offspring. It’s a lovely spring day, all appears calm but as we know little and big feet are paddling away, and opportunist creatures lurk beneath the surface. For now though, all is well. The parents swim over to the bank, tug at long grass, then gobble it up. The cygnets copy, pulling at blades too big for their little beaks, unable to break them. With trial and error, they successfully tear off smaller blades, and like birds wrestling with worms, toss their little heads from side to side to get the grass down their necks.

They rest on stones at a narrow part of the river, and preen. The cob flaps his powerful wings; a cygnet dodges out of the way just in time.

9.15pm: The swans are on the nest, four cygnets are visible, two are hopefully beneath the wing.

Sunday, May 24

10.30am: No swans upstream, so I cross the bridge at Abbey House Gardens, where it is soon evident they are having a ‘clothes optional’ day. I decide it best to look elsewhere! I go to Park Road. The house martins are in abundance, flying madly, flashing their white bellies, darting, and diving. No swans though.

4.30pm: I bump into Ted Hall, a wildlife enthusiast. He tells me he saw the swans at eight o’clock this morning, but only at a distance. 9 pm The family are leaving the nest site, about to go for an evening dip. Six cygnets, good. Their necks are beginning to show signs of elongating. They still look small and vulnerable however.

Monday, May 25

1pm: At Park Road the swans are resting on the green. Six cygnet heads are just visible through the grass. They stretch and preen, scratch their heads with their little feet, and stand proudly exercising their tiny wings.

Soon its back on the water. Mum leads them down the bank, followed by the cob.

9pm: The adults are feeding at the weir’s edge! Right at the edge! I watch uneasily as the babies follow… Not a good time to go over! Thankfully it’s just a quick snack and off to bed. They nestle snugly in mum’s feathers, but being bigger now, some are partially visible.

As the cygnets get older, the dangers from predators will decrease but as Ted says: “They then start getting into all kinds of mischief!” No doubt we’ll see them waddling about at Station Yard car park.

For now, though, the family are doing well.

Six out of nine cygnets have made it - long may they thrive!