His Majesty King Rupert

To understand Rupert, the first thing to know is that he is easily aggravated.

He hates the color red. Once he left a gaggle of teenage lifeguard trainees screaming in terror after they had the audacity to swim past him wearing red bathing suits.

He can’t stand airplanes either and will scream at them when their takeoffs disrupt his feng shui.

Kayakers ruffle Rupert’s feathers. So do cats. Newport Harbor’s Christmas boat parade ticks him off. And if breakfast arrives late, watch out, because that makes Rupert foot-stomping mad.

Web-foot-stomping mad.

Gay Wassall-Kelly has known the black Australian swan since he showed up at her doorstep for a handout five years ago. “He’ll get real aggressive if you get in his territory,” she said. “Problem is, this whole bay is his bloody territory.”

Indeed, Rupert is master of his domain. A stranger in a strange place, possibly a former pet set free, Rupert plies the salty waters of Newport Harbor as if he owns the place.

Which, in a sense, he does.

“He’s been taken on as the harbor’s resident mascot,” said Sgt. Ron Peoples, watch commander of the Orange County Sheriff’s Harbor Patrol. “Everyone looks out for him.”

It isn’t easy.

If there’s trouble in the harbor, Rupert will find it. He nearly strangled after wrapping himself in fishing line. He has been impaled by fish hooks more than once. If a boat catches fire in the bay, Rupert will swim right at it.

A native of Australia, he once decided to go on a walkabout. After several days of not being sighted--and numerous calls from worried citizens--the Harbor Patrol sent a helicopter to search for him. Rupert was picked up by animal control officers several miles down the coast and brought back to Newport.

“I know a small percentage of people would say ‘My gosh, why are you doing this with taxpayer money?’ ” Peoples said. But the majority of residents in this community of postcard-perfect waterfront homes probably don’t feel that way, he said.

Besides, Rupert is easy to handle compared to an ornery, 800-pound sea lion known as Old Stinky, who has come close to toppling boats in the harbor.

In August, Rupert was found near death after he ran into a diesel fuel spill. It took a couple of Harbor Patrol boats to corner him, after which he was netted and taken to the Wetlands and Wildlife Care Center in Huntington Beach. He was washed and fed liquid charcoal to absorb the fuel in his stomach and made a quick recovery.

“He looks for trouble,” Wassall-Kelly said. “He’s like a kid, but he hasn’t gotten any better with age.”

Wassall-Kelly, 61, is Rupert’s adopted mother, protector and biggest fan. Rupert shows up at her boat dock for fresh food and water nearly every morning, then makes the rounds to other homes.

Wassall-Kelly chronicles his comings and goings in the weekly Balboa Beacon, which she edits. When a man called to complain that Rupert had pecked at his head as he swam in the harbor, Wassall-Kelly suggested he try to keep out of the bird’s way.

No one seems to known how Rupert got to Newport Harbor, but many believe he and a mate were released by residents who were moving away. Rupert’s mate disappeared.

Last year, Wassall-Kelly raised money to buy him a new partner, Pearl. So far, though, nothing appears to have hatched from the well-laid plan.

Wassall-Kelly raised five children and bragged about them when they were growing up. Now she brags about Rupert and Pearl. Sometimes, she admits, her friends tell her they don’t want to hear yet another swan song.

“I don’t care,” she said. “One of the Harbor Patrol guys came by a while back and said to me, ‘Get a life!’

“I told him I’ve got one. It’s these birds.”