Mute Swan Opera's Third Act

A mute swan opera that disrupted the tranquillity of the normally placid waters of Town Pond in the heart of East Hampton Village took a dramatic turn this week when a curious phone call was made to police.

"I told them I was going into the graveyard with a net," Sigrid Owen of Montauk told police on Tuesday morning. She said she warned them lest passers-by or those with houses overlooking the pond and its ancient South End Burying Ground suspect madness - a woman chasing the ghost of her departed spouse, perhaps.

Ms. Owen was after a swan, a bird whose snowy white feathers were ruffled and dirty, and she and her net caught up with it near the monument to those who died in the 1858 wreck of the John Milton.

One, Two, Three

The swan escaped the net twice before being trapped by the self-appointed "swan lady," who also is a state-certified assistant wildlife rehabilitator.

The capture concluded the troublesome third act in a drama witnessed by neighbors and drivers who were known to express concern for one lonely swan in East Hampton's picturesque pond.

She had been alone for two years after her mate disappeared. Then, in December, like destiny, there were two. Things were the way they should be. Swans, like people, mate for life, or at least try to. Suddenly, last weekend, there were three and the harmony that had come with the second bird was shattered.

Banished To Cemetery

The interloper had a slatternly appearance. Was it the old mate come back from years at sea, a spurned lover returned, or perhaps a brazen power play for the affections of one already bespoken?

For days, the interloper was attacked by the pair of resident swans in turn. Finally, it was banished, spending Monday night in the cemetery.

Was the cold banishment among the tombstones love's triumph, or was this a case of misplaced sympathies, a swan song in the purest sense? Ms. Owen said she had been watching the story unfold and could explain.

The original and lonely swan was a female, she said, and female swans don't stay that way if they can help it. In December, she'd gone out, found herself a mate, and brought him back to her pond. They were united.

Three Is A Crowd

Ms. Owen said the pairing instinct of the couple was so strong that when the third bird arrived, which turned out to be a female threatening their bond, she was driven out.

"She looked dirty like she'd been in some kind of trouble on Route 27, hit by a car maybe. Her legs were fine, but she had trouble flying," Ms. Owen said.

Peace would only reign if the rejected swan was removed to safer waters. But there were other forces at work.

Alarm Set Off

It seems that as her savior grappled in the graveyard with the third wheel in the avian triangle, the town dog warden, alarmed by the flurry of nets and feathers, placed a call to a state conservation officer, Joseph Billotto, a knight of sorts.

Also summoned were four members of the Town Department of Natural Resources. After all the pathos, the question at hand was whether Ms. Owen had a permit to net and move the swan or whether she would have to return it to the pond, adding insult to injury.

Mr. Billotto's fears were allayed. As a wildlife rehabilitator, Ms. Owen was authorized to move the swan if she determined it was injured.

"She was happy when she got there," Ms. Owen said of her charge, describing how she was let loose from a box and entered Hook Pond happily ever after, or so it is hoped. In the winter of 1990-91 an immature and lone male swan on Town Pond made news when Ms. Owen removed him to Noyac Bay. At the time, she explained, he had walked onto Route 27 and needed to be with his peers "to learn the ropes of swan life." She also said Town Pond was too polluted to provide him an adequate diet.