Island Explorations: A Walk Through the Natural Splendor of Schouwen-Duiveland (part 1)

This article is too long for one newsletter, so I split it into two parts; I will post the second half tomorrow.

After days of rain, wind, and even a rare layer of thin snow, I woke up this morning while the sun rose in a stark blue sky. So I changed my working plans for today and took off for the morning to go for a walk. I know all the walking routes from my home, but the views, shades of light, and colors differ every time I go out. So you could argue that it's always a new experience, especially when I make little natural discoveries like I did today.

It was also a perfect morning for photography. The cold and dull-colored grounds are covered with small pools of water after days of rain, and these became bright mirrors this morning. They reflected a Magritte-blue sky with his trademark dots of clouds magically turning the landscape alive, as you can see in the first photo.

While following a little track behind the houses, I caught the first reflections in the castle's moat. I then continued in the direction of Westenschouwen, following an old stone wall that, at several points, leans dangerously to one side and is therefore supported by clumsily bricked buttresses. There, I took a photo of my long shadow, as you see them only in the low sun of the early morning.

A bit further, I turned right at the 19th-century windmill that you may remember from my pictures and, for those who have been here, from the best pancakes on the island. The small cycling path I followed always reminds me of Van Gogh's early works, where he loved to draw willows in the Dutch province of North Brabant, where he grew up, about an hour east of here.

I left the road, and the last cyclists, behind me when I climbed the high dune, passed the biggest of the dozens of second world war bunkers known locally as "the whale," and went down on the other side. Like many people, I have favorite trees in places I like to return to, and here is one I shared with you before in an earlier post when it was in its green summer glory, full of light, and often full of children for whom it's their favorite climbing tree. When the sun strikes the tree right, in May or June, this majestic tree shows a unique palette of all shades of green. I suspect it might be four trees instead of one, and I would love to hear an expert's opinion someday.

Walking further into nature, I heard the distinct sound of the Great Spotted Woodpecker; it was the first of the many birds I did listen to this morning. They eat insects in the spring and summer. But now it's winter, and they wander in search of food; you may find them on feeding tables in gardens. It is the most common woodpecker in the Netherlands. We call it the colorful woodpecker because of the red that contrasts with the white and black; in my strange associations, the bird reminds me of the flag of Yemen. This mid-January morning, they enjoyed rapping on branches with their distinct short rapid roll to reinforce territory and pair bond.

Great spotted woodpeckers carve out a nest cavity in trees with a round hole. They prefer softwoods, such as birch. It makes these dunes and nearby forests on the west side of the island ideal for them since they have both birch trees and coniferous forests, where they eat the seeds of spruce and pine cones in winter.

I couldn't photograph the woodpecker, but there was a sweet European Robin that kept jumping around me. So the photo I made is more top-down than I would have preferred. What a joy if wildlife doesn't run or fly away but instead gets too close, at least when local wildlife is the size of these little birds. We call these birds "Roodborstjes," which would translate into English as something like little red breasts; I prefer the name Robin for evident reasons, and as you can see, the red is closer to orange.

It's a beautiful small bird; it looks proud, a bit pumped up, as if someone decorated them with an impressive orange medal that they proudly want to show to the world. Of all the birds I encounter on the island, these are the least afraid of people. They love hanging around gardens, and I have seen that if you feed them, they make your garden their home and wait for you early in the morning to open the back door and provide some food for them. They become like a pet, the smallest family member, hopping fearlessly into your kitchen looking for crumbs. And they are fierce defenders of your backyard, chasing away larger birds like starlings that discovered the free bird snacks in your backyard.

Taking a walk in beautiful nature before starting to work is one of those enjoyable experiences that are so easy to grab but so often forgotten by all those that don't have a dog to remind them to go out. On a morning like this, there is something special about feeling the sun's warmth on your skin and hearing the birds chirping in the trees. The dunes, forest, and reflections in the small lakes in this beautiful winter landscape where the bright sky merges with the darker earth give me an incredible sense of peace and joy. Take, for instance, these three mirror-like ponds that were fully dry last summer; now, they are lively blue gems in a brownish winter landscape.

I passed another lake and then saw Exmoor ponies in the distance. Not many of them are in these dunes; I counted nine and believe that’s all of them. It makes them the minority in an area with at least a hundred Shetland Ponies. I left the lake and walked towards them. Only one pony turned her attention to me. She didn't come any nearer but turned her head to me. I'm sure I could have walked up and stroked her. It's an absolute privilege to witness the beauty of these brown-colored ponies roaming free. I'm only allowed to touch them when they approach me, but she was generous enough to let me take her photograph. She willingly posed in the gentle sunlight, demonstrating her radiant beauty and glistening coat.

This article is too long for one newsletter, so I split it into two parts; I will post the second half tomorrow.

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