Black Swan

What a lovely day for a picnic. Let’s have my birthday in the Botanical Gardens,” said Dad. “We can make some gourmet food, go for a run, kick the footy and it will be great, reinforced Mum.” Sounded just like The Bears’ Picnic by Stan and Jan Berenstain. I wondered what disaster was to befall us and didn’t have to wait long.

There we were perched on a rolling hill eating our medium rare beef and Asian duck on involuntarily collapsing plates with precariously placed wine glasses. The distant hum of twenty Grand Prix Formula 1 racing cars was a precursor to the invasion. A determined black swan waddled up to us and tried to move in on our picnic.

“Nothing can bother our picnic here! Lay out the picnic things, my dear.”

My family all tried to send the swan on her merry way, minus my sister who had been terrorized (along with me) by our brother holding mangy chickens to our heads fifteen years ago. Ornithaphobia is on our profiles now.

Someone foolishly threw a crust, another tried his bravado with a picnic rug matador-style, but the wisest one brandished the shopping trolley and drove the pestering bird back to her lake…or at least the outskirts of the picnic.

“Now take this perfect piece of ground. No one but us for miles around!”

I was expecting ants, seagulls or bees but certainly not an adult swan and a persistent one at that!

“No noisy crowd! No pesky planes! And no mosquitoes, trucks or trains.”

The Bears’ Picnic follows the adventure of the Bear family. Papa Bear is enthusiastic about taking them on a picnic and doesn’t lose that excitement in his quest for a lunch spot, despite his poor choices. Papa Bear is an optimist and oblivious to the dark and impatient mood of his family. It is a fun rhyming story that allows children to pre-empt the problems and identify the mixed emotions. It also shows us that outings don’t always go to plan.

This story is shades of our picnic when my brother (same chicken trickster one) wanted to boot the swan out of our picnic with a drop kick into it’s feathery behind. My sister and I were anxiously watching the swans every flap and waddle. It could have ended in tears and one very irate swan. Not to mention a report to the ranger from a woman giving us a discerning look on a nearby path.

Cynicism aside, it was a nice evening despite our imposter and the fact that my pistachio birthday cake resembled unleavened bread. Ever the optimist, family friend Doris said she preferred smaller serves anyway. Perhaps Papa Bear needed Doris at his Picnic!