This is not a story about swans. This is a story about finding my voice thanks to our travel lifestyle and how ten years on the road has quietly changed me.

It all started with a family of swans.

Sat by our riverside pitch last week in Riejke Crnovjevića, we got used to seeing the family of swans gliding by. Mum and her remaining four babies together with a rather territorial dad.

Swans are so majestic, but not to be underestimated. 

We watched in early amusement, as papa swan was often seen in his protective, battle pose. But as the days passed, his behaviour seemed more obsessional. Every paddle-boarder, every kayak could be seen with papa swimming behind in warrior pose, relentlessly chasing. Almost like a herding Border Colley. But this didn’t seem like a herding instinct. This felt more like territorial protection.

He was quite intimidating, so much so that I timed my paddle boarding until he was out of sight. Animals smell fear and however I dressed it up, his antics gave me anxiety. I know swans have an aggressive reputation and there are stories of how they can even over-power humans.

And of course, it is his world we enter, so I understood it. And perhaps this was less about fear and more about respecting nature.

I watched a young human family next door play with delight in their blow up boats, with the swan often intent on hugging the edges of their craft. They were obviously cautious and their parents too, I suspect.

But over the days, I saw their fear wane and I noticed their behaviour change towards the swan – he become a play thing. They flicked water at him with their fishing nets. They chased him as if they saw it as fun to hound him, as he had to them.

I felt my distress rise from deep in my belly. I teetered on the edge of saying something, but never want to be seen as the ‘grumpy old woman’. So for a while I minded my own business. But as the kids’ behaviour intensified, I could sit back no longer. To watch this beautiful creature, who was just protecting his family, being treated this way, felt wrong.

And it was my response that surprised me. My unexpected interaction suddenly showed me how my confidence and self-esteem have grown. In that moment, fuelled by passion, but not in an aggressive way, I stood. I found my voice.

In days gone by, I would either avoid these scenarios or I would get a red mist that sent me into a rage. Something now is different. A more balanced me approached the parents, calmly expressing my distress at seeing the boys’ behaviour. I simply shared what I had seen and how it made me feel. Despite the mother’s obvious defence of her children’s actions or perhaps an apology for her own lack of action, we had a reasonable discussion and she gently spoke to them. And they stopped chasing. And I breathed. I thanked them and left.

I noticed another thing.

I returned back to the van and did not berate myself for taking action. I did not spiral into a frenzy of self-doubt and self-assessment of what I should have done differently. I simply allowed myself to feel proud. After all, I had taken considered action. I found my legs to stand and my voice to express. That was enough.

Two days later, we both took out the paddle board – it was fun. Well not sure Smiley quite saw it that way. Timed strategically with papa up stream, we paddled the opposite way. It didn’t take long to notice papa swan fast approaching to the rear. Having seen what plays out, we decided to move to safety, together with another kayak father and son. Both with the same idea. Allow the swan to pass on by and for us to continue our pleasure.

However, after a few minutes it was obvious papa was going nowhere fast. The young son started to throw stones at the swan and immediately I motioned ‘no’. In no version of the universe it that right.

Then his father, who had been on the phone, distracted, followed suit, but with a larger stone, which had a far better aim than his son. It landed firmly on the swan’s back.

Horrified I asked him stop.

Justifying his position he told me the swan had attacked his son recently.

Of course I was compassionate of his situation, but there is nothing that can condone that behaviour. His view was that as a local he had right to enjoy ‘his’ river. The swan had, he said cornered him for hours and now he believed stone throwing was the right thing to do.

I couldn’t help feeling that we were visitors in the swan’s world rather than the other way around. And I wondered if it was this father who had put the swan’s warrior defence in motion.

Our conversation led no-where. We reached an impasse. He had his position shaped by a horrid attack. I had mine. There was no solution, for him at least. But for us, we had a choice. And so we removed the board & walked home. 

We talked about it on our way back to the van, Smiley carrying the load of our paddle-board. I felt that even though my debate with the man would never change his behaviour, I had expressed my feelings and not sat on a grievance. Those sorts of emotions are never healthy when we store them up. Of course there’s a way of doing it assertively, and learning to share my voice felt appropriate and positive. Perhaps it might have influenced his future actions; perhaps not. The outcome for him mattered less than my decision to speak.

This story is not actually about the swan, the parents or a father who threw stones. It is about how I found my voice without red mist, without avoidance and with a strength that gave me pride at my new-found strength.

A week on from this incident with more time to reflect, what stays with me was how things are different for me. Ten years ago I would have walked away from both conversations. Or launched with the speed of a motorhome without any brakes. Instead, I found myself calmly saying what I felt needed saying. No drama. No shouting. Just a quiet confidence that surprised me.

Travel has given me a new-found strength, a peace and an appreciation for life that builds me up from my insecurities. A life that we have chosen. A life that may be different to the norm, but one that suits us and who we’ve become because of it.

It does not have to be travel that changes you. It’s about choosing a life that fits you better. It is then that we find ourselves changing. The writing of our book, Heels, Wellies and Flip Flops has shown me that.

It’s funny what shows you’ve changed.