We named the new pen Baroness Clementine Spencer-Churchill. Sir Winston drew his lady apart from the gaggle and wooed her in covert coves of Central Park’s serpentine ponds. Eager birders traveled from far and wide to view the celebrated Tundra twosome. So rare were they that the ebird website questions their existence with every submission reporting their presence. Sir Winston deemed his life fulfilled, content to live out his senior swan seasons in raptures of bliss evermore. But alas, Lady Clementine had differing desires. Perhaps we should have named the graceful pair Seigfreid and Odette after the prima danseurs of the regal Russian Ballet, Swan Lake. From day one, Odette—or was she Odile?—began to persuade the enamored Seigfreid that continued residence in California City in the arid Mojave Desert was far beneath the dignity of two such stunning swans as they. Alas, Elysian Fields seldom endure, and Siegfreid’s rapture eventually yielded to Odette’s winsome wooing. His beloved pen urged him to wing northward toward exotic lakes Tahoe and Bampf from whence she may have flown. Siegfreid loved his life in the murky waters of Central Park, moreover he could not imagine leaving the gaggle above which he reigned so superior. As women often do, Odette persisted in her wiles until Sir Winston finally acceded; or did he?
Some avian enthusiasts have suggested the stately swans may have succumbed to poachers’ cravings for swan soup, while others insist Lady Clementine succeeded in enticing Sir Winston toward the luxurious leas of Lake Louise. There is no concurrence upon the fate of the poised pair, however all birders agree that we should mourn their passing with a fitting tribute to their memory. Perhaps we’ll eulogize Sir Winston and Lady Clementine with an enigmatic Swan Wake.
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