....or, I'm getting a bit bored and old!
Dalborn is one of the 19 villages under the jurisdiction of the town of Blomberg in the state of Lippe, North Rhine-Westphalia. The previously independent village was incorporated under the municipal reform of 1st January, 1970. The village is located about 10 km northwest of Blomberg though the closest towns are the Hexenburgerstadt (Witch Town) of Lemgo and the old State City of Detmold.
Dalborn was founded in the 12th century as Waldhufendorf, a medieval widespread form of settlement in Germany. This is a series of village in which the land, usually double-spaced, adjoins the courtyard location. The village lies at an altitude of 120 to 150 m above sea level. NN and today has 85 inhabitants in an area of 284.34 ha. The villagers go to church in the neighboring Cappel, while the children attend primary school in Großenmarpe. In Dalborn there are a number of historic half-timbered houses with ornate arches and inscriptions -one being the Droster farm on which we lived for a while. There is also the Dalborner mill, which is however out of service. Current Burgermeister is William Sigges ( 2012).
Around the year 1880, the former municipality Donop was dissolved and divided between the new communities Altendonop, Dalborn and Kirchdonop. Also the manor Altendonop became independent and thus treated as a community. Around 1890, the town was renamed as Kirchdonop Donop.
As a kid I'd play football on the village road -only the shout of "AUTO!" (car) stopping play. There were the forests that I used to love wandering around and, occasionally, helping the local ranger. While collecting wood for the fire in the forest just outside Dalborn, my father was about six feet ahead of me with the wood-cart, there was a sudden silence. I turned to my left to see a young fallow deer, a true “bambi”, looking at me curiously. Some ten feet (3m) beyond it, in amongst the trees, stood the mother also looking at me. This lasted some time before we all mutually moved off.
My grand mother had lived in Dalborn since the Second World War but had never seen any hares. She was a bit miffed when I returned from a walk to describe watching groups of hares and even hare ‘boxing matches’! I always, of course, kept down-wind of them but even so if they saw me they perceived no threat and remained in the open.
When I was a bit older I did walk through the forestry and hear an odd noise. I looked down and saw wild boar piglets and at that point I broke into a cold sweat because I became aware and then saw the sow. She stared at me as I slowly moved away, walking backwards and not taking my eyes off her. She never charged me.
On one holiday, as a family, we went with our grand-father to pick dandelions for his giant rabbits. The route was a familiar one to us –out through the farm orchard, down the tractor path and then along a basic road between cornfields and the forest. As we passed a tree stump a good few feet from the forestry my grand-father (Opa) casually mentioned that the stump was where he had seen “the sturm-geist” (storm ghost/spirit). Now, Opa had suffered a stroke so his vocabulary was good but not great –he was still “re-learning” full speech. The storm ghost had an ugly face and was covered in hair and when he saw it the beasty leaped from the trunk and into the forestry. “It sounds like a chimp or monkey of some kind” I said. Opa smiled that smile: “No. We don’t have monkeys here.” I thought “We don’t have monkeys but we do have storm spirits!” Of course, Opa was probably thinking “He thinks we have monkeys in the forest?”
Opa had been alone that time but when we were all together on the rough track one day, right next to where the sturm-geist had been seen, he said “Look there!” All we saw was a glossy black, hair-covered back leap into the coniferous forestry. If you’ve seen black furred/feathered creatures you’ll know that in bright sunlight the fur/feather has that sort of brownish, even purplish glint. So did this beasty. I rushed forward determined to see what it was but the forestry was so wild at that point I could only get five feet ort so –but we all heard it crash through the branches of the trees.
My cousin later threw almost an hissy-fit as we explained the event. I have no idea why he was so vehement in his dismissal of the sighting. His explanation? It was a “fishing bird.” I was puzzled having never heard of a “Fishing bird” –I found out it was a cormorant. I’ve seen so many cormorants over the years (we have them in Bristol) that I know it was not that we saw and why would one be jumping around the forest?
On another occasion I observed what I thought was a badger emerging from forestry across some fields.
Everyone, including the local ranger, assured me that there were no badgers in the area. A few nights later I got up to go to the bedroom window because it was hot and sticky and the midges were being noisy pests. I heard a noise in the flower bed, about three feet (90 cms) below the window. I looked down and there, looking up at me, was what for all the world looked like a fluffy black fox with white facial markings –almost raccoon like. I tried to reach for the camera at my bedside that had a flash on it and trying to do so without taking my eyes off the critter. My hand knocked the camera and I tried to grab it –when I turned back the animal was gone.
Next day..there was that look again in amongst chuckles as I explained what I had seen. I was dreaming it seems. No such animal existed. Alright, now I knew what people reporting a UFO or Sasquatch felt like!
Back in England I went through all my books and –there it was. Fluffy black fox with white markings! But it was not a fox, rather it was a raccoon-like dog which is a rather primitive wild canid that can hibernate and they were kept by fur farmers before escapes in the 1930s and, of course, during the war. I had seen one the furthest west they had moved (though that was not known at the time.
Next year I took the book and showed everyone I could in Dalborn. Not a single odd look just the very, very annoying response of “Yes. You saw one –so what?” I was sure this was a conspiracy.
So you can imagine I thought everyone considered me a nut-case. However, one day my aunt said to my mother: “Ask Herr Professor if he wants coffee.” I looked around and she was looking at me. I had no idea up to this point that the family called me “Herr Professor” or that some of the locals were also referring to me in that way. Apparently, my constant nose-in-books, asking questions and checking everything from insects, unusual plants and animals out had earned me a reputation!
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My younger brother, Mike, me and Dave Chung at the approach to Herman's Denkmal. Herman -"Arminius"- had led the local Germannic tribe (the Cherusci) and others to wiped out the Roman legions under Varus in AD 9. "Onkel Herman" stands proudly in the Teutoburgerwald. A MUST visit when in the area. As is the Externsteine which has featured in a number of comic strips and books of mine.
Above: Herman's Denkmal and below Externsteine.
Then there was the outdoor treat of the Marchenwald (Fairy Forest) where statuettes re-created scenes from fairy tales. Add all of this together along with lots of spare time (school shut at around 1pm) and you can see why all of this helped me to formulate and create D-Gruppe -Germany's first super hero group and the blend of themes in their adventures.
I still want to head back there one day -maybe catch a comic convention and see if Detmold, Blomberg or Lemgo have any comic shops!
Just another ramble but you know how it gets when you get older. No? Oh.
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