10,040 Readers?! Wow-wee, So Nice to See You!

LWhen I started this blog on November 24th 2013 I didn't dare dream that so many people would bother to read my stuff!

I thought that if I could scrape or drag in a couple of readers a week, it would be lovely.
Not knowing that I would have hundreds a week, and sometimes more than 1,500 a month at any given time.

And the parts of the world that you live in amaze me as well. Hundreds of readers a week in Ukraine? I mean...sure, great, wonderful that you are reading my blog folks, especially in the event of politics going on (I try - and mostly succeed - to stay away from politics; I'm certain that you have noticed); keep it up by all means.

On the subject of statistics:
my American readers are the most numerous, 
closely followed by my own countrymen,
very closely followed by people from the Ukraine
and the rest is quite evenly divided between Australia, South-Africa, India, Germany, England
and the occasional reader in France, Poland, Belgium, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Greece, Latvia, Russia, Ireland, Canada, Rumania, China, Thailand. 

Now wouldn't it be wonderful to have, say, Hawaii, or the Solomon Islands, or anywhere in Africa, or Surinam.

Anyway. For ALL of you, I have looked up one of the funniest little videos I could find. It is about cats... They are one of my pet interests, simply because I think they are so inscrutable and always doing their own thing. So if you hate cats, skip it.
(Although...you could try it anyway, perhaps you'll surprise yourself by laughing out loud)

Link: I dare you to watch this without at least smiling.

Well? Bet you smiled, or even laughed out loud!

Have a wonderful evening, until next time.

Digging for Gold? Gina the Tunneler.

We have had our dog for almost 10 years now. And she's sweet, absolutely. But she has this annoying habit: she digs up the flowerbeds.

Now obviously I know many (most?) dogs dig. They like to make themselves a cosy nest for sleeping in. And I remember our first Dalmatian dog digging holes underneath my Mum's beloved roses (alongside those dug by the chickens, by the way). 

But Gina doesn't dig her bed, she just...digs. Huge holes. And afterwards she comes in all muddy and flops down on the parquet all happy. And I go into the garden with dismay, and view yet another Hydrangea bush dug up, or my lovely Echinacea covered in earth.

She started in a small way, a couple of years ago, in the bed between the back and side garden, and we forgave her, for she had found the tunnel of a vole who obviously lived underneath that bed. We even praised her, I remember, clever girl, that will show that vole!

But then the small hole got bigger, and deeper, and we were certain that the vole had moved on ages before, and she dug up all my tulip bulbs in the process.

So we put up wire netting, to protect the bulbs and to stop her. She simply tore out the netting. Then we tried chaining her up when we weren't around to stop her. She howled. So now we try to keep an eye on her when she goes into the garden.

And as long as our eye is on her, she is innocence itself, simply snoozing in the sun or dozing in the shade, nowhere near a flowerbed, in fact.

And then, as soon as our attention lags, she is at it again. No way that she is digging for mice or voles (we hardly have any left anyway, with Viggo hunting them mercilessly) - and the holes get more numerous and bigger every time.

Viggo on Life (sort of)

Good morning to you, where ever you are!
Viggo has graciously consented to another interview.

Q: What prompted you to grant a third interview?

V: I want to set the record straight. After the second one I got a lot of flack about being arrogant and grumpy. I am not grumpy. In fact I am lovable, intelligent, funny, generous,  a good listener and...did I mention generous?

Q: Can you give an example of your generosity?

V: Of course I can! I bring my woman a nice juicy mouse, vole or mole at least once a week. I used to bring it right to her in bed, but for some reason she has made it plain that she wants them delivered elsewhere. Beats me. Anyway, I now leave them next to the back door, and she loves that. Every time I present one, usually with the head neatly severed, she shouts "Oh Viggo!". That says it all, doesn't it? She loves me.

Q: And you aren't tempted to eat them yourself?

V: Well...Yeah. Sometimes I cannot help myself. They smell so good, and I get these urges... But that's only sometimes, mind. Mostly I keep them for her. She deserves them, she's a good woman, really, she does her best. But yeah, I occasionally eat one. The thing is, I always regret it afterwards. The mouse hair doesn't agree with me, so I tend to barf a bit.

Q: Eeeeuw!

V: Don't be silly! It's  a fact of life that cats barf. I'm good at it, I do it discreetly in the garden, not everywhere in the living room like that tubby tabby that my woman keeps inviting into my home. Well, strictly speaking she's not a tabby of course, but in essence she is. Get it?

Q: What tubby tabby is that?

V: Oh, that's a sad case. She comes when her people go away on holiday. My woman has, in a moment of weakness, said that I will be hospitable. The tubby tabby comes from a shelter, like I do, but she has a screw loose. Even though she has been here numerous times, she always spends at least two days hiding behind the settee and she has this thing about staying in the cupboard under the stairs. I keep trying to get her to relax, you know, I even try to play with her to loosen her up a bit, but she just growls. Talk about grumpy, now there's a grumpy cat for you! And she hates my dog. Gina and I get along fine, Gina knows her place. But the tubby tabby is afraid of Gina. Quite comical, you should see her jump when Gina barks.

Q: How do you feel about the other cats coming into your garden?

V: Funny you should mention that. Tubby tabby is allowed into the garden, as long as she keeps her claws off the fish in the pond. They are mine, simple. And the frogs. They are mine as well. And come to think of it the rodents; mine! And tabby should stick to the paths, as the earth is mine as well. So...But the other cats should keep out of my garden. I'm quite strict about that!

Q: What do you do to keep them out of it then?

V: I have my methods. Me being black is an advantage. They tend to see me at the last possible moment, hehehe. Also I practice a very ancient defense technique, which originated in the East, called Cat Fu. I am not very heavy, but I'm fast as lightning. And it helps that I keep my claws sharp, obviously.

Q: Okay, well, thank you very much, I appreciate this.

V: No problem. Always happy to oblige. Now piss off, it is time for my snooze. You can put the extra bags of Purina in the back, my woman will take care of them, ta.

Plants boring? No way! They soothe the soul.

Good morning to you, how lovely to see you on this wonderful Spring day!
The sun is out, my back door is opened as wide as can be (thus I am sitting typing this with a t-shirt, 2 vests and my thickest jersey on, but hey...it's Spring!) and I've just returned from a morning sniff with Gina.

And I thought it might be fun to 'take you along' on my walk, so to speak.

We start out in my back garden. Just so:

Then we turn left, and attempt to enter the community park. I say attempt, for Gina likes a nice loooooooooooong sniff here...

We walk straight ahead, and in fact leave the park again, and cross over to the cycle path which leads to our neighbouring village of Oudenhoorn.

The nettles (non-stinging) are very early this year. When Gina feels the need to squat here, I have time to take a photo. A win-win.

We walk along the path, and turn right at the nudist camp (honestly! They must be so cold), and turn right again onto the Noordse Molenweg.

As far as I know this is the only piece of unpaved public road left in Hellevoetsluis, and it is the border between Hellevoetsluis and Oudenhoorn. At the end, we turn right again (yep, you've guessed it, we are walking in a circle :)

A selfie to prove I was there.

Gina is still sniffing as if her life depends on it, and I am getting cold (it is 8 degrees C), so I drag her along and we turn right into the park and cross a 'meadow'. Vigilance here, for both other dogs and their offerings.

And hey presto, we are back at the back garden gate.

My first action is to put the greenhouse door ajar.

My tulips are coming along nicely, don't you think?

And have a look at the other beauties in our garden!

And this is only the beginning! 

This period, the end of March, always lifts my spirit. It's a better boost than wine (and lasts longer and doesn't give you a headache). And usually March is wintry still, with icy winds. But this year we've had no Winter to speak of, and nature is 4 weeks early with everything. That is a nice (climate?) change.

How is your garden coming along? Post me a picture of it, it is allowed you know!

I wish you a great weekend. Have fun, sniff the fresh air (if you have some) and enjoy yourself!

Do you like swans? Then let me introduce you to ours.

We live very near a large communal park pond, so are used to seeing waterfowl. I am not afraid of the mute swans, but I do respect them, as their heads are on a level with mine when they stretch their long necks.

I'll tell you about an adventure we had with a big male a couple of years ago, but first I'll show you 'our' swans.

They've had a mild winter this year, so we haven't had to feed them up, but they've got good memories and know that we feed the birds. So every day they waddle up to our garden gate and see if there is anything tasty within their reach.

This couple has been together for years. They like the birdseed which has been scattered by the doves, who are very messy eaters.

It's a pity there is no soundtrack with these photos, as they were both making noises to me: a mix of hisses and fluting sounds. 

Viggo, big butch tom that he thinks he is, felt the need to show them that he comes first in the Koopman food chain. But the swans weren't impressed.

Right. The Swan Tale. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Some years ago, in the Springtime, a lonely male mute swan was trying his wings over the pond. He was young, he was looking to show off to the females in the pond, and he had been circling for quite some time.

I don't know what happened exactly, but what I do know is that my neighbour was just coming out of her front door to pick up her kid from school. And our show-off swan misjudged his pass over our roof, and flew slap-bang straight into their gutter with an almighty crash, lost it, and fell onto the head of my neighbour. Who screamed loud enough to make me come running to see who was killing her.

She was on the ground, with the unconscious swan on top of her, and practically hysterical. But unharmed.

I ran to get my husband, who lifted the swan, and took it to our back garden, whilst I helped my neighbour. She was okay, and quickly left for the school, and I went to see what was happening with the swan.

Theo had put it on the garden bench, and we debated whether to call a vet, or the special 'bird lady' we know in a village nearby, and who has helped us out with injured birds before. But the swan opened one eye, and then opened the other eye, and looked at us. So we decided to leave it alone for a bit, to see what it would do.

Within half an hour it sat up, and sat very quietly on the bench for another 15 minutes or so. And then it hopped onto the ground, and took a leisurely tour of the garden. When it passed the gate, I opened it, and the swan walked out. His head was as high as mine, and as he passed me he looked me straight into the eye and mumbled something. I like to think it was  'thanks, bye'.

C Wibe Koopman Photography

Live in the Moment

My darling cat Viggo just told me he wants food and he wants it NOW.

He has a very effective way of communicating this want: he demolishes that which has my attention at that precise moment.

So it may be my newspaper, or my box of tissues, or he bites my Mac, or - in this case - he hurtles pieces of my centre piece all across the table.

Look at him, looking innocent.

I always observe my pets with interest, as they have the ability to totally live in the moment. Mindfulness in motion. Or in immobility, as the case may be.

Take Gina. After a rainy start of the day (she was safe in her basket, no need for walkies, thank you), the sun is now out, and look...she ambles into the garden and searches out the sunniest spot.

I will have to take her walking soon though, otherwise she will demonstrate her wish for a pee in the copse by digging a hole in my flower bed.

Meanwhile, halfway through my spring break: I am still winding down from work. 

I read, I attempt to get a blues lick into my fingers (don't say anything, thanks. Taking up the guitar at age 55 is a challenge, to put it mildly), I look at the flowers, I look at the pile of washing and quickly look away, I idly wonder if my son will be satisfied with just potatoes for dinner (no!)....and the day just passes.

And it is bliss.

Who wants to go chasing rabbits? -Or Keeping Strays 3

Honing, in all his splendour.

My darling daughter adores keeping pets. She has grown up with dogs, cats, doves, ducks, guinea- pigs, fish and rabbits. But when she reached the age of 11, and our last guinea- pig had died of old age, I put my foot down. No more rodents. I was extremely busy, and the cleaning of the hutch came mostly down to me.

She pleaded, moaned, sulked, sweet-talked, but all in vain - my foot was firmly down. For about a month.
Then, late in the afternoon of a drizzly April day, our dog Gina took my husband into the woods (no, this is no mistake on my part) and chased after something yellowish. My husband went to investigate, thinking it probably was a cat. But it turned out to be a shivering traumatised domesticated rabbit. My husband couldn't let it sit there, where Gina had it backed into a corner under a large tree. So he took it home.

When I came home from work, I was informed that there was a rabbit in the shed, but that it wouldn't survive the night, as it was in a terrible condition. It was dirty yellow, bald in most places, mangey, and had a large festering wound around its neck where there had been a rope.
So we gave it a nest of warm hay, some water, and left it to die in peace.

My daughter couldn't face looking at it the next morning, so I went. To my amazement I was greeted by a curious, very much alive rabbit. But it still looked awful. We made an appointment with the vet, who told us it had fleas, lice, mange, needed anti-biotics for the inflammation of the wound and the colour was due to it being absolutely covered in urine. He estimated his, for it was a guy, age to be anything between 4 and 10 years old. He injected it, salved it, powdered it, and we got a carload of stuff for keeping it in medicines.
My daughter proudly named it Honing, meaning honey in English, due to its colour.

Honing took up residence in an emergency shelter in the garden, whilst my husband quickly banged a new hutch together. When he inspected his new home, some hours later, Honing immediately started re-arranging his bedding, grunting and snuffling, and then when it was put down to his satisfaction, he started grooming himself. He was the most ugly rabbit imaginable. Hardly any hair, and the hair he did have was short, dirty and dull.

We gave him the run of the garden, trusting our cat (then Tigger) and Gina to leave him in peace, which they did. He could get into his hutch by means of a chicken stairway, but his preferred perch was on top of the woodpile. There he sat for hours and hours, surveying his kingdom. As soon as he was insect-free, and his wound had healed, his hair started growing back in, and to our joy he turned out to be snow white, and long haired. He kept himself immaculate. 
 Gina and Tigger respected him, he only had to grunt to make them back off.

Our previous strays:
Snuitje, guinea-pig: dumped on us by someone wanting to get rid of it;
Snuf, rabbit: we bought this one!
Tigger, we adopted him from someone who turned out to be allergic to cats.

Honing stayed with us for four years. Then, one morning, he was off his food, and died in the night.

He was an amazing rabbit.

Blog Update: How Starting this Blog has Changed my Life :P

Hi, folks!
Here's your enthusiastic blogger from the Wetlands again.

With Gina

This Blog, Rays of Light, has been up and running for a month now. And wow! I mean: wow!

There's this thingy called 'Stats' next to my composing page, and it shows me that you, my reader, come from far-flung places like South-Korea, Russia, Canada, the USA, Australia, South-Africa, Morocco, as well as nearer countries (Germany, England, Serbia, The Netherlands).

Welcome!

I am SO happy to meet you!

Except, I don't meet you, do I? You read my post and then you steal away in the night...

I try to imagine you. You are sitting in an easy chair, with a cup of coffee nearby (or tea, if you're in South-Korea, I expect), or with a beer. It's hot in Australia, I've been told. And you take some minutes to read my words.

What is your life like? Do you enjoy your work? Do you have work? Are you happy? Are you with loved ones around you, or are you lonely? Or alone by choice? Do you have children? Do you, like me, keep pets? What subjects of mine do you enjoy? Or don't you like at all?

You see...I don't know! I'm writing away totally absolutely utterly in the dark here!

My dream

I used to dream about publishing a magazine. But a lack of funds has stopped me so far. And being careful; taking out a loan is simply not my thing. 

This blog is the nearest I've come to fulfilling this dream. Sure, I've published books, but this is different. I try to come up with subjects which I hope you will enjoy reading about. And they are, as you have found out, rather eclectic. 

I look at those stats, and think about how many of you have read about my tomcat, and let myself be inspired by this. So there will be more posts about my pets. And about my photographer son. And about Sarah McQuaid :-) - my best read post yet (if you don't count the opening one about when I started out on this adventure).

But: you CAN have some influence, if you like. There is a 'comment' gadget beneath the blog. And a 'follow' gadget on the right hand side. So....want another cat or dog adventure? Let me know!