PART of the route of my daily morning walk had become overgrown with ground cover and the spreading lower branches of some trees, so I decided to clear the path, armed only with a pair of secateurs.

This caused no trouble until I began to snip at the tips of the lower branches of a holly bush which were spreading near ground level across the path. This immediately prompted an alarm call from a small bird concealed in the bush.

I couldn't identify the bird from the noise it was making and could not see it, but realised my actions were upsetting it somewhat.

At first, I thought there might be fledglings nearby, but then realised the cause of the bird's distress was the fact I was almost standing on its nest. It was a neat round ball of a nest, cunningly built and very well concealed among several twigs of the holly and grass, but only an inch or so above ground level.

I also thought it remarkable that the nest was literally six inches from the edge of the path - many people, including me, walk past it every day and I would venture to suggest no-one knew it was there until the unhappy bird protested at my clearance scheme.

Needless to say, I abandoned my activities at that point and left the bird in peace, realising that its actions in voicing a protest had probably prevented me from inadvertently destroying, or at least exposing, its nest.

So what sort of bird builds a nest of this kind? I think, in this case, it was a chiffchaff.

The females of these tiny summer visitors, known for their repetitive song which echoes their name, construct ball-like nests of dry grass and moss and hide them deep among plants like brambles or nettles, or indeed any other kind of dense vegetation.

Rather curiously, the nests are very close to the ground, but not directly upon it.

The chiffchaff is remarkably similar in appearance to its cousin, the willow warbler, and it is not surprising to learn that their nests are almost identical.

One difference is that willow warblers build theirs actually on the ground, although their construction and appearance is almost identical to that of the chiffchaff.

In this case, I do hope that the chiffchaff rears her brood - the female incubates the eggs, but the male helps to feed the chicks before they leave the nest.

By the time these notes appear in print, I expect that nest will have served its purpose.

From time to time when local history or folk beliefs are discussed, there are references to the Hand of Glory and this region can boast several instances when this curious and rather sordid charm was used.

Those who used it were invariably criminals, especially burglars, who quite often raided coaching inns because they were regularly patronised overnight by coach loads of wealthy travellers.

In fact, the Hand's last known use in this region was in 1824 at what was then the Oak Tree Inn on the Great North Road near Burneston, a few miles south of Leeming Bar.

The Hand of Glory was a real human hand which had been removed from the corpse of a man hanging from a gibbet. It could come from no other source.

Before use, it was pickled to preserve it, being submerged for a fortnight in a solution of salt, salt petre and pepper. Once cured, it was allowed to dry by the heat of the sun, but the fingers were positioned so they could hold a candle.

The candle was made from human fat, also taken from a hanging corpse, with wax and Lapland sesame added, while its wick was fashioned from human hair. This was also taken from a hanging corpse.

To make the Hand ready for use, the candle was placed between its fingers. When the time came for it to be used, the candle would be lit.

Criminals such as burglars believed that this revolting charm would make them invisible while carrying out their raids, and they also believed it had the power to make sleeping persons remain asleep, and those who were awake to remain awake while the raid was in progress.

To activate this power, however, the candle must be lit and a special verse chanted - it was believed that the flame possessed the necessary magic powers to help the raiders.

For burglars, especially those who preyed on coaching inns, this was a wonderful instrument to possess. It was almost a guarantee of success.

If the flame was extinguished, however, the power of the Hand was rendered useless. But the flame could only be put out by blood or milk.

No other liquid would work - or so the burglars believed - but it was not only criminals who believed in the power of the Hand of Glory.

Many ordinary people were terrified by its powers. Consequently, if they were confronted by a burning candle held in a Hand of Glory, they were frightened into inactivity.

In the case of the Oak Tree Inn, a raid occurred one November night in 1824. It was a terrible night, with heavy snow and gales, and several coach loads of passengers found themselves having to stay the night.

Quite often, criminals would travel on the coaches and the inn was now so full that its two maids, Peggy Scott and Jenny Brown, had to sleep in makeshift hammocks made of planks and sheets and slung from the kitchen rafters.

They were unable to sleep and, in the early hours, saw two men creeping about in their stocking feet. One was carrying an unlit Hand of Glory.

Jenny fainted in terror, but Peggy waited until they went upstairs then hurried to the dairy for a jug of milk. When the men returned to the kitchen, Peggy hid in an inglenook. But Jenny groaned in her sleep and the men found her, woke her and tied her to a chair. The men lit their candle, hid the Hand in a cupboard, then went upstairs to rob the wealthy guests.

Peggy released Jenny and told her she was going to extinguish the candle flame with the milk, whereupon Jenny must shout and scream to rouse the household. They did so, the villains were captured and the girls rewarded for their bravery.

Similar tales are told at other locations, the Spital Inn at Stainmore being the scene of an almost identical yarn in 1797, but a genuine Hand of Glory from Eskdale can be seen in Whitby Museum. It also features in the Harry Potter stories!

Yesterday, July 15, was the feast day of St Swithin and one of the best known dates as far as weather lore is concerned.

Many of us believe that if it rains on St Swithin's Day, it will rain for another 40 days, or if it is fine on St Swithin's, it will remain fine for 40 days.

There is a similar belief in Scotland, while in Italy the date is known as St Gallo's Day, but the message is identical. In this country, poor old St Swithin has also been called the saint of the soakers!

So how did this enduring piece of weather lore begin? Swithin, born in AD 862, was the Bishop of Winchester, a clever manager of church finances and a highly regarded counsellor of the Wessex kings. In spite of his high office and royal friends, he was known as a very kind and holy man who cared for the poor.

Before he died, he expressed a wish that he be buried outside the church because he loved nature and the elements. He wanted the rain to fall on his grave, and he also wanted to be laid to rest among the poor. When he died, he was granted his wish.

As burial outside was not the custom for priests of high rank, the clergy later decided to exhume his body and re-bury him in splendour within the cathedral.

On the day of his transfer to a magnificent tomb, July 15, it rained so much that the plan had to be abandoned, and it continued to rain for 40 days as if to strengthen the message that Swithin wanted to remain in his grave outside the church.

Eventually, the clergy agreed to leave him alone, although a stone memorial was built to his memory inside the building. But any remaining relics of this popular saint were destroyed and scattered during the Reformation.