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Taking a Chance

The egg was cold, likely lifeless. We placed it in the incubator, unsure if anything would come of it.

The egg was cold, unlikely to hatch. Still, we placed it in the incubator, hoping life remained.

Furry Surprise

After three weeks, a faint sound came from the incubator. Has the egg survived? We leaned in. Another chirp. Life had emerged.

After weeks of care, a hatchling emerged from the egg. Five months later, she had grown into a strong young swan, her fluff replaced by sleek feathers.

The Weakest Link

I’m Nick, and this is the story of Giip—a swan who defied the odds.

When a bird is left behind, it’s usually the weakest. Swans, like other animals, focus on the stronger ones with better survival chances.

The Gifted Egg

Had the egg never come to us, it would have remained lifeless. Instead, it was given a chance, a spark of life preserved, waiting to emerge.

On her first day, she still carried the egg’s energy. Freshly hatched, she wobbled, her tiny body alive. Every sensation—warmth, sound, movement—sparked inside her. She had made it, and the adventure was beginning.

Settling In

By the second day, she pecked at her food with growing confidence. By the third day, her hesitancy vanished—she ate heartily, her appetite matching her energy.

For the first weeks, she stayed inside with us, needing extra protection.

Nighttime Whimpers

We set up a small space where she could sleep undisturbed, providing the protection she needed in her early days.

Each night, as we tucked her in, she let out soft chirps, as if checking where we were or ensuring she wasn’t left behind.

Raising Her

Giip was always with me or my girlfriend, but I was her primary caregiver. My girlfriend’s work kept her busy, and she joked, ‘We have a little kid now. Good luck!’ Though we raised her together, I became her main source of comfort and guidance.

My girlfriend laughed as I doted on the hatchling. Smirking, she teased, ‘Well, we’ve got a kid now. Good luck!’ Raising Giip felt like parenting. She was busy with work, so most of the responsibility fell to me. I gladly took it on, not yet realizing how much this bird would mean to me.

Swimming with Giip

The first time I swam with Giip, she followed me without hesitation, gliding effortlessly. She trusted me, mirroring my movements. Swimming together became our unspoken ritual.

Giip followed closely, her tiny webbed feet paddling eagerly. It was as if an invisible thread connected us, pulling her along on every adventure.

Growing Bird

Giip had grown in a few months. At nearly five months, she was no longer the fragile hatchling we had brought home. She spent most of her time at the pond nearby but still longed for where she was raised. When my girlfriend wasn’t home, I let her inside, and she waddled around as if she had never left. No matter how much she grew, she still saw this house as home.

Giip spends most of her time in the pond, 200 to 300 meters from our home. Though independent, our bond remains unbroken.

Monitoring the Pond

Giip still longs for the home where she was raised, drawn by a sense of familiarity and comfort. The house, where she first felt safe and nurtured, remains her true home.

When my girlfriend isn’t home, I let Giip in and monitor her via pond CCTV.

A Growing Friendship

Giip and P struggled at first but have grown close.

Now, they instinctively search for each other when apart.

Not Ready to Leave

Giip had the world open to her but stayed. The pond, the house, the voices—this was home. The wild called, but she chose to stay, not trapped, just unwilling to leave.

Giip still seeks comfort from me, nuzzling as if I were her parent. Though more independent, she still trusts me as the one who raised her.

Swan’s Welcome

Giip bobs her neck while chanting softly—a familiar swan greeting, showing trust and comfort.

Giip isn’t forced to stay. The gates are open, letting her come and go freely.

Giip struggled to master flight, her wings unsteady. Each attempt carried both excitement and fear—the busy roads nearby a constant concern. She needed more practice, but every flutter brought her closer to soaring.

Not a Pet

I keep her safe, but one day she’ll be free to go wherever she pleases.

Giip isn’t a pet. She’s free to leave anytime. I want her to live with other swans, in the wild, where she belongs.

Moving Forward

I’d tell her I’m proud of what she’s overcome. From a fragile egg to a strong swan, she’s come far.

I want her to know she’s loved and has a bright future ahead.

She had grown and would build her future with another swan.