WHEN men took part in pigeon shoots in the dales they took great care to avoid mishaps.

Safety first was their watchword as they used shotguns to cull birds which had become a nuisance. But one event, organised by regulars at the Bay Horse Inn in Barnard Castle in 1867, nearly ended in disaster.

Once they all got back to the hostelry one of the shooters, a fellow called Blackett from Copley, put his gun on a kitchen table while he went to collect his share of pigeons.

A local workman named Watson picked up the weapon and handled it for a few moments, not realising it was loaded. It went off, sending lead shot through the window, over Horsemarket and into two shops on the other side 40 yards away.

Henry Hurworth, a town resident who happened to be passing the Bay Horse, was cut by flying glass and his clothing was grazed by pellets. It was believed that had he been inches further on he would have been killed.

Over the road the window of Carter's bootmaking shop was shattered. The window of Winpenny's clothing shop next door was also damaged. A small girl outside it was hit by a single shot and several passers-by had narrow escapes.

There had been accidents with shotguns in more rural parts of the dales in the past, but there was amazement that this sort of incident could happen in the middle of a town.

A crowd gathered to look at the damage on both sides of the street, and a number of folk claimed they had been just a whisker away from serious injury.

There were many debates about who was to blame. The man who left a loaded gun unattended was certainly at fault. The one who picked it up had no right to handle it. There was also a feeling that the landlord, Chalky White, should have imposed stricter control over all the guns taken to the premises.

One good point that came out of those occasional shoots, apart from getting rid of the pests, was that hard-up families were given some pigeons free or at little cost to make a meal or two.

In more recent times, in the 1960s and 70s, the Bay Horse had a reputation as a quiet drinking spot where local businessmen were regulars, forming a sort of parliament. They always sat in the same seats at the same time every evening - and any stranger attempting to sit in one would be warned off as it had to be left for so-and-so. Since it closed the frontage has been turned into two shops, with a doorway between leading to a wine bar.

Imagine the outcry there would be today if a five week old baby was abandoned anywhere in the dales.

A big hunt would be launched for the parents, with appeals in all the papers and on national TV. Social Services would quickly take the infant into care.

But there was a more relaxed attitude when it happened in Crook in 1866.

The child was found lying on a mat with a small bundle of clothes next to it in the passage of a house in which several families lived, close to the town centre.

Word spread about the discovery and a crowd gathered to have a look at the little one and decide what to do.

One woman volunteered to take care of the baby and this was agreed. She might have been in charge for a long time, but for the fact that the parents turned up three days later.

The mother was Catherine Gounout, a widow from Witton Park, and the father was her lodger, John McMaughan. Both were Irish.

Mrs Gounout explained that she gave the child to a nurse at Bishop Auckland to look after, but when she called there later it was in a poor state, so she took it back and walked to Crook.

She sat on the steps of the Mechanics Institute, weary and footsore. She asked a stranger if there was a lodging house nearby, but when she got no reply she left the child and went home.

But after three days she returned. She told a police sergeant she was sorry, asked to be forgiven and promised not to leave her baby ever again.

Her explanation was accepted, and it was felt there was no need for further action. She was allowed to go home with the child. It was lucky for her that Social Services weren't about in those days.

There can be few more attractive places of worship in the dales than St Mary's Parish Church at Gainford, but it was once in a dreadful state.

After a complete destruction of its architectural features it was allowed to fall into a deplorable condition by neglect, according to an article printed in the 1860s in a trade journal called The Builder.

It declared that the eaves were allowed to drip over the walls and the earth to accumulate round them. Dampness and decay, with their accompanying mustiness, made the building thoroughly disgusting, it declared.

The floor in some places was described as broken up with rat holes. The west arch below the tower and the south aisle wall showed signs of giving way. Large cracks could be observed in many directions.

One of the three bells was cracked, and the old clock was "greatly out of repair".

The magazine went on: "Ashpits and other abominations were close to the main entrance to the churchyard and in the churchyard. Such was the state of the church in April 1864."

That was when a restoration started under the architect J.A. Corey.

The church was built in the 13th century. Alterations were made in the 15th century. The arches of the north aisle and tower were filled with galleries, the latter being like hustings or the stage at a wild beast show, according to The Builder.

It added that the tracery was taken out of the windows, and two large windows of tasteless design were inserted on the south side.

In the restoration project the south wall and tower were taken down and the old stones rebuilt so as to return to the original character.

A new roof was put on the nave and chancel, at the original pitch, and the whole church fitted with solid open seats of oak. A carved oak pulpit and desk were fitted, and the chancel laid with tiles. A beautifully-toned organ of considerable power was put in, with 28 stops, four couplers and "every recent improvement."

There was more comfort for congregations, as a hot water system was designed to warm the building. An extra half acre was added to the burial ground. The restoration cost £2,000, plus a new clock for £120.

The organ and a fine peal of six bells added £1,000 to the bill. It is these same bells, by the way, that some folk have described as too loud in modern times. Some of the money came from Trinity College, Cambridge, patron of the church.

The magazine found it strange that the college had let the church get into such poor condition over a long period. It suggested one reason was that it was a long way from Cambridge but felt it might keep in touch more easily in future thanks to the new railway.

The Builder was founded in 1843 by Joseph Hansom, designer of the Hansom cab, and became highly respected in the fields of construction and architecture. It changed its name to Building in 1966 and is still going strong.

A bad memory of my boyhood in Edinburgh is of a pigeon cull in our district near the zoo. Instead of guns they used fire hoses to blast the birds out of trees, which lay scattered on the road -- a gruesome sight. Local residents were invited to help themselves. My mother did and the pigeon dinner she produced was vile. Let's hope the Bay Horse birds tasted better.