Hi all John here; Shad has let me loose on his blog page. As most of you know I regularly visit Goring Gap and the Sea Lane cafe to take pictures of the Kite and Wind Surfers.
Several of you have approached me about the pics I take and where they can be found.
If you find yourself on any of my pages please feel free to contact me and I will forward a copy of the picture. If you would like a print then go over to my website where I use Loxely Colour for all my printing.
As I opened my eyes from my snooze in the car I was astonished to see the silhouette of a sofa with tree-trunk legs trudging awkwardly towards me. I thought I was dreaming about The Incredible Hulk or some kind of giant from Harry Potter but as my eyes got used to the light I realised that it was an ice-flyer as they like to call themselves. An ice hockey player fully clad in a helmet and face cage, toughened shoulder pads, thick chest protector, padded shorts, hard plastic shin pads and reinforced gloves. If you’ve ever been to an ice hockey match, you’ll understand that the armour is not for show, it’s for protection against the multitude of safety hazards that put the players at risk of serious injury such as the solid puck that shoots across the ice at 90 miles per hour.
John and I were sat on the front row behind a floor to ceiling window of fortified shatterproof plastic and witnessed another safety hazard that seemed to befall many a player. I lost count of how many faces were squashed up against that barrier because after the third one I winced and shut my eyes every time there was a skirmish. One of the bravest guys on the ice had to be the referee whose only safety equipment was a helmet and who was regularly slammed into the sides of the rink during play. But fear not, no cats were hurt during the game and only a few sprains and bruises were sustained by the players who were all willing participants in the match. In fact, judging by the wonky smiles and animated man-hugs, they quite enjoyed it.
The same could be said for the crowd who hollered and cheered at the slightest hint of a clash on the ice and were enthralled whenever the puck was shot through their opponents’ goal. Even more baffling than the blood-thirstiness of the onlookers was the bizarre off-the-rink contest that appeared to be going on to see who could tolerate wearing the least amount of clothes. Considering we were in Kitzbuhel (Austria) at the time and the weather outside was snow and -4°c, the urge for the men to take their tops off could only be explained by some hormonal imbalance or the human desire to compete. Luckily John did not succumb to this urge otherwise I would have been most embarrassed (because of the hair on his chest, not the size of his tummy!).
Rivalry can be seen in many species across many different habitats, like the gibbon in the forest hooting and gesturing menacingly to ensure it is not seen as weak, or the dominant guppy fish in the river that roughs up any other fish who tries to date one of his ladies. We cats are also known for being territorial and the need to defend our turf against prospective outsiders is in our genes. The desire to assert ones instincts reaches even greater heights in humans who have found ingenious ways to compete for fun, a bizarre concept amongst the rest of the animal kingdom who compete for resources or survival. One of the humans’ rituals is the racing car competition, a phenomenon that involves driving powerful noisy machines as fast as possible around a road with a flamboyance that reminds me of the male peacock fanning his tail and displaying his feathers with pride.
The British Touring Car Championship is a prime example of the enthusiasm that permeates through the racing car community and it’s easy to get caught up in the excitement, the thrill of victory, the sense of achievement and the lure of the prize money that drives each competitor to win. John and I visited the track at Donington Park for the pre-season test which is designed to put the car engines through their paces and establish the order of play for the championships for the following week. The grid line-up consisted of 32 drivers preparing to do battle at Brands Hatch in cars like the Honda Civic, the Ford Focus and the Chevrolet Cruze. I hope you’re impressed with my knowledge of cars there! I guess they make modifications to the cars to change them from sensible modes of transportation to super-charged vehicles built for speed not comfort.
The track was wider than I thought it would be and the cars seemed to snake around the bends like a loud swarm of brightly coloured bees following each other in a line, looking for any opportunity to move ahead. The action was fast and furious and the place swapping was impressive with drivers using chicanes and hairpin bends to take the place of the car in front. I curled my toes at the perilous moves the drivers made to be the best in their game and was grateful for the large expanses of grass and sand and the multiple barriers between the track and the crowd.
While the cars were racing, John practiced his panning skills which involves moving the camera horizontally to capture a travelling object, emphasising that object against the other elements in the frame to elicit the feeling of motion. It was a fun day full of healthy competition and the humans behaved themselves well, smiling, shaking hands and celebrating with glasses of sweet water and strange smelling foods. Some of the children wore ear protection gear to shield their ears from the noise and I experienced a little ear muff envy on the way home so John promised me he’d get me soft pair of ear covers for my birthday in my favourite colour purple, ideal for keeping my auricles warm in the winter.
The X-games is a high energy annual sporting event that brings together some of the fittest and most daring athletes from the across the world to compete for medals and prize money by flying horizontally into the air on a wooden plank or hurtling down an icy tube known as the superpipe. The superpipe looked like an enormous trench covered in thick smooth ice that started way up high in the sky and as you look up to the top, a small figure stands alone getting ready for the ride of their life. A horn blows and the small figure tips over the edge and begins their descent, faster and faster they loom towards you and the anticipation builds. The figure swoops across the pipe from side to side, soaring into the air and flicking their body into loops and turns as the crowds cheer them on. They glide into a jump and it feels as though they are hovering over your head almost pausing for effect before landing effortlessly back on to the ice ready for the next jump.
There were many events taking place during the contest including BMX riding, skateboarding and snowmobiling, all featuring challenges or obstacles designed to test the athletes’ agility and get the adrenaline pumping. The skiers and snowboarders are judged on who can perform the best trick or get the most height off a jump. John held on to me to keep me warm while we admired the performance put on by the athletes at this amazing Alpine snow park, 20 minutes from central Oslo. It is 1700 feet above sea level (that’s 530 metres for the metric amongst you) and offers snow-slopes and chair-lifts for winter sports enthusiasts and a cosy café for fussy felines who need to warm their cockles.
Although we were only there for the weekend we managed a brief visit to the city opera house, an unusual white building formed of glassed facades and horizontal and sloping surfaces. The productions of opera, ballet, theatre and music held within reflect the cultured nature of this artistic place. The tramway system carries 130,000 people a day to their various destinations while peace reigns over the dramatic peaks and rustic forest trails surrounding the fjord close by . While I was on the plane going home I imagined myself hiking through those rugged mountains like a black panther, roaring at the lynx that tries to chase me, climbing up rocky ledges behind a bleating mountain goat and discovering the long lost city of the Incas. Oh no wait, that’s a different mountain range, the Andes in South America. Still Indiana Jones doesn’t have a patch on me!
I like horses and I know they like me because I was once kissed by a horse on a fence. I was on the fence, not the horse, and it was moist and bristly but nonetheless enjoyable. The beautiful white lippizan horses you see in these pictures live at the Stanglwirt Riding School in Kitzbuhel, Austria and they did not seem like the type of horse to go around kissing unknown cats on fences. As John and I arrived by car to the Riding School as part of our Austria weekend, the lippizan horses pranced and skipped in perfect motion from their warm dry stables out on to the snow covered field before them. I watched their tails swish charmingly from side to side and their manes flow almost magically as they broke into a canter in front of us.
I decided there and then that they weren’t the only ones who could waltz around looking all willowy and elegant. So when John opened the car door I lifted my nose high into the air and puffed out my chest just as one of the horses looked towards me. Perfect timing! With one nimble action I leapt from the seat but unfortunately landed awkwardly on a patch of ice resulting in a minor skid and slight stumble. Thankfully I recovered my poise quickly at which point I swiftly turned around to hop straight back in the car. Boy that snow was cold and my knees were wet where I’d hit the deck!
After a marathon licking session my fur was back in place and I was a snug as a bug in a rug, having wrapped myself up in my favourite blanket on the back seat. I looked through the window and couldn’t help feel a sense of admiration at the stunning lippizaners so impressive with their smooth tresses of hair and muscular frames. This noble breed is renowned for graceful movements and magnificent physiques, as well as liveliness and good natures. They are born dark brown, black or grey until the white coat appears between the ages of 6 and 10. Apparently there are less than 3000 in the whole world so they are highly prized in equine circles. The horses at the Stanglwirt Riding School were clearly cherished by the humans who cared for them and I could tell by their well-groomed coats, clean hooves and happy temperaments that all their needs were met. After performing some of their stylish dressage moves, they played in the snow, flicking it around with their powerful legs and chasing after each other. They reminded me of the lambs I’ve seen frolicking around in the fields at home and I smiled to myself as it occurred to me that I’m not the only dignified animal who likes to fool around for amusement. I miss teddy!
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There is no creature as curious as a cat. And I have always been curious about what lies beyond the adoption pens at the National Cat Centre in Chelwood Gate. The NCC is headquarters for Cats Protection and boasts the largest cat rehoming centre in the UK looking after anything up to 200 cats and kittens at any one time and rehoming over 1000 little cherubs every year. John and I walked into the reception area excited to meet Danielle the Centre Manger for our exclusive behind the scenes tour. John had brushed my coat before we left so I looked extra silky and I puffed out my chest fur as we were greeted by a smiling Danielle who started by introducing us to Poppy. Poppy is a friendly black and white that has been in care for many months and now spends her days helping reception staff answer the phones and checking the corners for mice in the hopes of getting noticed by prospective owners as they wander through. Just off reception is a meeting room specially designated for potential owners to sit and spend time with the cat they like before deciding if things could work between them. It’s full of comfy chairs, ping pong balls and a window that lets you watch the birds land on the swaying branches of the trees outside. Danielle told us about a cat called Marmite who lived at the Centre for a long time because he had FIV (feline immunodeficiency virus) and I smiled to myself as I imagined him in the meeting room greeting the lady that would later adopt him.
Reception
NCC Reception – Spherical Image – RICOH THETA
Poppy
Poppy
As we moved through the double-doors into the adoption pen wing, Danielle showed us the Enrichment Room which we could not enter as 6 year old Tabitha was in there undertaking a desensitisation programme. This involves carefully exposing the cat to various situations in a controlled manner such as the sound of a vacuum cleaner, meeting a stranger or hearing a doorbell to determine which triggers cause the cat to have behavioural issues. Tabitha has been rehomed and returned 3 times because she becomes aggressive so the desensitisation programme will help her become accustomed to normal household noises in the hope that she will soon find her forever home. I had a quick word with her through the door while the humans were talking and she said she gets angry when she is rehomed because she doesn’t know anyone there and it makes her feel scared.
We strolled through the pen wing admiring the cats along the way until we reached another double-door and Danielle asked us to dip our feet in a tub of wet sponge. I was mortified, as a cat who is fastidious about keeping his paws clean, soft and dry, but it was necessary as part of the infection control procedures. So I dutifully placed each of my paws in the disinfectant goo and looked up at John who knew exactly what I wanted and fetched a paper towel to dab my tootsies dry. The next section contained the Admissions Wing where cats first arrive and the Cat Care room where newcomers get their vet checks, vaccinations and flea treatments. I shuddered at the thought and we moved on to the Isolation Wing for cats who have unfortunately been diagnosed with infectious diseases such as flu, FIV and ringworm. We were not allowed into the isolation wing for obvious reasons not least of all that we would have had to dress up in multiple layers of unattractive plastic aprons and pull-up boots which you can see being modelled by Boris. My heart went out to the cats in isolation who often spend weeks receiving veterinary treatment and wearing the cone of shame before their symptoms improve and they are well enough to be put up for adoption. We didn’t go into the maternity wing either out of respect for the feeding mums and mums-to-be who need peace and quiet while they care for their babies. We did take a look at the operating theatres and were impressed with the great facilities, especially when Danielle said that Tuesdays to Thursdays the onsite vet team perform 6 to 8 surgical procedures a day.
No trip to the NCC would be complete without talking to one of the many dedicated volunteers who give up their time to support the Centre and have essential roles to play including collecting cats, cleaning pens, making enrichment objects and raising funds. I got talking to a nice young lady who had just been sitting quietly with a nervous cat called Anya. Anya had been found in a bin and needed a dedicated volunteer to spend time with, bonding and slowly building her confidence, learning to trust humans again. I am so full of respect for this wonderful work that I gave the volunteer an extra firm head butt behind her knee and she rubbed my back in return. Marvellous!
We came to the end of our tour and Danielle walked us back out to reception as we discussed some of the key welfare issues facing cats today. The importance of early neutering is fundamental to controlling unwanted cat populations and Danielle said that Cats Protection vaccinate kittens against disease at 8 weeks and neuter at 9 weeks to ensure healthy moggies all round. The other big concern is the lack of microchipping in cats and Danielle looked sad as she told us about the many cats who become separated from their owners and brought in to care but end up being rehomed because their owners cannot be traced. I told Danielle how worried I am about the cats and kittens that are sold cheaply or given away through online auction and sales websites. Sadly many of these animals are destined for terrible fates. But I was encouraged to hear that the Cats Protection advocacy team are working with some of the main online marketing sites to raise awareness of the plight of these animals so that improvements can be made. I saw Tabitha on my way out and told her to be brave when she goes to her next home because there are some very nice humans out there who love animals and will understand her needs if she just gave them a chance.
I’d like to start by wishing everyone a happy and healthy 2016. Some people see in the New Year with a bang (noisy little blighters), others prefer to see the New Year in with decorum. This year I saw it in with cystitis! Not something I would recommend! Sorry if that’s a little too much information for some people but all of us have bodily functions and I, even with my physical prowess, am no exception. Don’t laugh at the physical prowess bit, I’m naturally optimistic!
It all started when John took me to my auntie’s house for a few days while he went to Tenerife to stay with some friends. My auntie’s house consists of John’s daughter and her family. She is a lovely lady who looks after me well and I have been to stay there a number of times before without any problems. But this time I got stressed which I think was a consequence of being around the energetic miniature human that appeared a few months ago and missing my best bud and partner in crime John. I’ll spare you the details of my clinical symptoms but anyone who’s had a kidney infection will know exactly how I felt. I kept going in and out of the litter tray, yowling and desperately trying to spend a penny, and I had a few accidents which is most embarrassing.
John was very worried about me when he got the call from his daughter to say that I was not well and a trip to the vet ensued. £90 later I was given antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and the difference was amazing. Oh the joys of being able to perform one’s ablutions without discomfort! I am very grateful to my auntie for looking after me but I was pleased to get home to familiar surroundings where the dulcet tones of my brilliant dad helped sooth my troubles. Although his tones were not so dulcet when he got the vet’s bill!
I thought I’d cheer him up by sharing a few of his photos from Tenerife, Spain’s largest Canary Island situated 200 miles off the West coast of Africa. It is dominated by a volcano called Mount Teide and covered in a reddish-brown rocky landscape dotted with pale green bushes, like the backdrop to Clash of the Titans from 1981. While John visited a beautiful volcanic island with his pals surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean under a warm 20°c sun, I sat on the windowsill staring at the relentless pouring rain getting treats from my auntie while I nursed my hind-quarters! So whatever you do this New Year, stay hydrated, try not to get stressed and enjoy the simple pleasures in your life.
There are a few wild cats that give me tail envy, notably the snow leopard with her thick silvery-grey tail or the sand-cat with his bushy black-tipped buff-coloured appendage. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my own long, sleek and silky extremity but there are times when a plush heavy tail would be an advantage. Like when I want to look tough in front of the tabby cat next door who has the audacity to sit on my front door step, or when I’m curling around John’s legs as part of my ‘have treat, will eat’ strategy.
Another tail of splendour belongs to the Scottish wildcat, a muscular striped feline that would be insulted if you said it looked just like the neighbour’s pet tabby! The tail is thick and ringed with perfect bands of black and brown while its agility and resourcefulness epitomise the wild spirit of the Highlands that it calls home. The wildcats in these pictures live at the British Wildlife Centre in Lingfield because they are critically endangered and form part of a conservation and breeding programme. Their numbers in the wild have decreased due to deforestation, human persecution and cross-mating with feral domestic cats which produces hybrids and dilutes the true wildcat genes.
Last time I went to the British Wildlife Centre I found out that the wildcat is truly untameable and just like a tiger or a leopard it is biologically designed to be happiest in its natural environment. I cannot imagine surviving outdoors, finding shelter and hunting for food, avoiding predators and caring for young. Sounds like a lot of work to me! When the keepers enter the enclosures, the wildcats keep their distance, prowling around the bushes with their ears pointed forward and their supple bodies ready to respond to the slightest noise or movement. Suddenly their piercing eyes focus unblinking on the keeper as she takes a piece of meat from her bag and throws it into the air where the wildcat leaps swiftly up to catch it and takes it away somewhere private to eat. I wonder if that’s why I take the food out of my bowl and put it on the floor, because some base instinct within me thinks I should run off with it. I spent the rest of that day thinking how lucky I am to have all the luxuries that come with being a domesticated feline photographer and entrepreneur.
The Scottish wildcat has overcome many obstacles including lack of food (due to lower numbers of prey animals), habitat loss and human persecution and they have survived for five hundred more years than the British wolf and over a thousand years more than the British bear or lynx. The last of the British lynx disappeared around 700AD, hunted to extinction for its fur. As a fur wearing creature myself, I find the notion of humans wearing fur in this modern age to be cruel and unnecessary, and even more so the concept of exterminating an entire species for its skin. Wear your own skin!
There are some fine specimens of the solitary and secretive Eurasian lynx residing in zoos and sanctuaries across the country as you can see from the photos. I am excited to say that there is a group of conservationists dedicated to reintroducing the lynx back into the ecosystem of the British Isles in order to restore some balance to the ecology of the forests. Their presence would help control the deer population which has grown exponentially due to top predators such as wolves and bears becoming extinct, thereby protecting flora and fauna from deer damage and bringing economic wealth to rural areas through wildlife tourism. I personally would support the introduction of any animal with a tail so lustrous and bushy that it would be the envy of every pussy cat in the land.
Born and bred in leafy Sussex by the sea, I love the ocean and I have an affinity with water. Just to clarify, I don’t actually like getting wet but I enjoy dipping my paws in a puddle and flicking it or watch the starlings in the garden splashing around in the bird bath. The only cats that don’t mind getting wet are tigers that will go for a dip to cool off in the summer sun or catch fish in a fast flowing river in Sumatra. Personally I am far too fastidious about my fur to risk getting it wet, although I’m always happy to laugh at another cat that does!
I remember one time I was at my friend Muffin’s house and we both sat looking out through the patio door when grey clouds covered the sky and rain started to lash down in the garden. Suddenly the cat flap clattered and her sister Tiffin appeared in the kitchen absolutely drenched. It was as though she had shrunk in the wash and her skin was showing under the wet black fur that was stuck to her sopping body. Clearly embarrassed, she quivered to shake the water off (I call this a body-wobble) until her owner wrapped her up in a towel and she was restored to her usual dry cottony self.
Another thing I admire about water is its power. It is said to have mystical powers of healing and relaxation and indeed I have seen John enjoy many a calming hot tub in his time. I’m still in therapy! But I’m talking about the force of nature, like the massive waterfalls of Yosemite Park in California or the spouting hot springs of the volcanic Geysers in Iceland. A little closer to home is the sound of waves crashing against the shore and pulling the pebbles across the beach as the swell rolls back and forth. This was the sound that greeted John and I over the weekend as we took one of our leisurely Sunday strolls along the seafront. We had a suspicion that the kite surfers would be out given the strong winds so we headed to one of our favourite spots along the prom to find out.
I love taking shots of the kite surfers in action, the muscle tension in their bodies as they manoeuvre the kiteboard into the wind and the ferocity of the thundering waves that break on to the shore. John and I are now friends with the surfers, having been here a few times before to take pictures, so they gave us a thumbs-up as we watched the forces of nature propel them across the water. I also made an unexpected friend in the form of a chocolate brown and white spaniel trotting happily across the shingle. As he came towards me I sat resolutely and fixed him with one of my looks of grandeur, but as he came closer my nose twitched and my lip curled under another force of nature, the musty smell of a damp dog! Despite my displeasure at the pong of salty wet woofer, he made me laugh running backward and forwards in front of me, wagging his tail and generally being a buffoon.
John is fond of all things aeronautical and used to work in the aviation industry where he spent a significant amount of time in airports. He most recently worked in airport automation (installing IT solutions for baggage handling and check-in systems) but started off his airport duties as a ramp technician, loading and unloading commercial airliners, refuelling, and waving around those little orange flags that guide the aircraft as they taxi on and off the runway. These days he tends to keep his hands clean and stick to admiring planes from a distance, although he can never resist pointing out an Airbus A380 or a Boeing 747, or telling me something about planes that have recently retired or become operational. So if John ever asks you if you’ve experienced a Garuda Indonesia, a Mexicana or a China Eastern, he is referring to airlines not restaurant dishes!
Our trip to the Fleet Air Arm Museum in Somerset was a real delight for John as it combined 2 of his passions in life – photography and aviation. The journey in the car was long but I didn’t mind because an extended nap was called for to recharge my batteries in preparation for our tour of the halls that hold the assortment of aero engines, drawings, models and military and civilian aircraft on display. The Museum is Europe’s largest naval aviation collection and stores thousands of objects including examples of the first manned kites towed behind naval vessels, to helium filled airships and modern Sea Harriers.
As I stepped in to the hanger, I looked up to see an enormous fuselage of a modern jet plane hanging from the high ceiling and on the ground was a Hawker Sea Fury – a single seat fighter bomber used by the Royal Navy in the Korean War (1950-1953). It made me think about the sadness of war and the brave individuals who defend their country’s freedom and pay with their lives. May be one day there will be no more fighting and humans will be truly humane to each other and to animals. As the Dalai Lama once said, ‘my religion is simple, my religion is kindness’. I gave a little nod of respect to the memory of all those who have felt the devastating effects of conflict and continued my adventure through the museum.
There were helicopters taking off outside and staff working meticulously on restoring custom-built engines and the curved blades of a propeller. My favourite piece was the Concorde 002, the second prototype of the Anglo-French invention which first took off in April 1969 and achieved supersonic speed on 25th March 1970. Her test career lasted 7 years and she was placed on display at the Museum in July 1976. I sat under the delta-shaped wing while the museum guide explained how the aerodynamic centre of pressure moves rearwards during the change from subsonic to supersonic flight and the implications this has for the aircraft’s balance and handling. It was fascinating but a tad too technical for a feisty feline like me so I snuck off to explore the cockpit nearby while John listened to the physics lecture. I was having a lovely time playing with the knobs and buttons when it all got a bit embarrassing. The museum staff had to fetch John because I was allegedly misbehaving. He came to pick me up rather sheepishly and we beat a hasty retreat! It wasn’t my fault I got a bit over excited given all the interesting things there were to sniff, jump on and slide down!
shadthecat 