forgotten spaces

There have been a few important junctures in my life, and when they’ve happened, I’ve always had unexpected (but welcome) company.

When my grandmother died, an enormous owl appeared on the railing of the cabin I was living in. He visited every day for a week. When I started my job at Radio Netherlands, the first day I rode my bike through the woods to work an eagle appeared, gliding down on to a branch of a nearby tree and watching me ride by, watching him. It was the first time I’d seen an eagle in the Netherlands – they’re extremely rare – and I’ve seen him a good half dozen times again in the last couple of months.

But I didn’t make the connection between seeing him and the upcoming changes until earlier this week, when I saw a fox bedded down in a secluded patch of grass, next to the building I work in – in broad daylight.

Earth Beat – the radio program I work on – has its final show next week. It was cancelled because of cuts to the Dutch world service. I won’t bore you with the story, but however sad it is, there’s comfort in the fact that for all of us who worked on the show, it provided some of the best moments of our lives. And, from what we hear, for our listeners too.

I don’t look for signs in nature, but they often appear. So often, in fact, that one might ask why I don’t look for them. And my answer would be this: the unexpected makes more of an impact, creates a stronger memory or impression, than the predictable. That goes for radio too.

So it was fitting that the eagle made itself seen again, fitting that I saw it swoop down as many times as I did, fitting that the fox chose to nap where it did, fitting that I walked past, looked out the window and saw it, because Earth Beat, you had an unexpected impact on a lot of people, including me.

(This is Anik's last post for Radio Netherlands. You can still follow her blog on her own website though! Go to www.aniksee.com)