A musical sign that spring is here

I am not sure whether this was an earlier-than-usual arrival for these particular summer visitors, but in fact they can arrive in southern England during March and some may even spend the winter there.

The fact they have arrived here in the north means that spring is well and truly established, for the chiffchaff is a member of the warbler family, that large group of rather small birds whose music is such a treat on warm summer days.

It is never easy to visually distinguish a chiffchaff from a willow warbler because, apart from the colour of their legs, they are almost identical.

Their songs are quite different, however, with the chiffchaff calling its own name from the top of a high tree.

That song is very clear and quite easy to identify even if it is not quite so simple to spot the bird which is producing the music.

As its early arrival might indicate, the chiffchaff is surprisingly hardy for such a small bird and, even though it arrives here a couple of weeks ahead of the willow warbler, it will remain behind for as much as a further two or three weeks in the autumn after the willow warbler has departed for warmer places.

But its presence does herald a welcome return to sunshine and brighter days.

Well within living memory, horses were an essential part of farm life, along with saddlers and farriers in our villages, troughs along the roadside, horseshoes hanging on cottage doorways and a range of vehicles or implements which were drawn by those handsome, hard-working and very willing animals.

A correspondent living at Marton, near Middlesbrough, has reminded me that, with the disappearance of horses and horse-drawn vehicles or implements, so many of our dialect words have also fallen into disuse.

It is a fact that a high proportion of dialect terms came from horses or objects associated with horses, and he has supplied me with a list which is too long to reproduce here in its entirety.

One good example is braffen. This represents his version of that word, although in other parts of Yorkshire it might appear as barfin, barfan or braffin. This is the collar of a working horse.

Another word is bearer, sometimes pronounced beearer, which is the martingale, that part of the harness which contained the leather strap to which the lucky horses brasses were attached.

There were also the hames, which in dialect appeared as either yams or aims, and bands like the back band, belly band and nose band.

Blinkers were known as blinders or winkers, the halter was known as the helter and a horse which would not pull was called a jiber. One which had gone lame might be described as "yan wi' a gammy leg" and one which held its head badly was cock-throppled.

My correspondent also refers to a draught of horses, which he uses to denote no fewer than three, but in some other areas this term was used to denote any team of horses or oxen and in standard English the word indicates both the team of animals drawing a load and the load itself.

In addition to words associated with horses, there are some wonderful terms for parts of the implement drawn by them.

Favourites include swingle-trees, cobble-trees and crab-trees, these being pieces to which the horses were yoked, with their names dependent upon the number of horses deployed.

There is a suggestion that the word cobble-tree comes from couple-tree, but this was the part of a plough to which the swingle-tree was attached.

I like my correspondent's references to parts of a plough, for he tells me that the scruffler was made up of a duck's foot, four grubers and two knives, while a plough (or ploo) had a body, landside, mouldboard, coulter, share, sock and stilts.

It's all wonderful stuff and our heritage is the poorer for such words disappearing from our local language.

There are few relics of Richmond racecourse, although I believe the Rayner Cup was once awarded for races on this site.

Even the spelling of that name is open to doubt - it might be Raynar, Rainer, Rayner or some alternative spelling - and I do not have any indication of the type of race for which the trophy was awarded.

The racecourse was about a mile and a half out of Richmond, on a very elevated and open site, not far from Richmond Outmoor.

I have a tourist guide dated 1874 and it tells me that the view from the grandstand was magnificent, adding: "It was one of those vast prospects which perhaps in England only Yorkshire can show."

In addition to that splendid view, however, I would imagine it was very exposed to the vagaries of the weather.

As far as the view is concerned, it was possible to see the towers of York Minster and Darlington parish church from the racecourse, even though they were 45 miles apart as the crow flies. Another claim was that Durham Cathedral could also be seen on a clear day.

In addition, the view included the hills which enclosed Swaledale and Wensleydale, as well as the Cleveland Hills and Hambleton range near Sutton Bank Top.

It seems that the racecourse was operating towards the end of the nineteenth century. Indeed it was thriving, but it is many, many years since it hosted a meeting. I have no record of the dates of either its first or final races.

Few signs of its presence remain on the site above Richmond, although there is a patch of trees known as Jockey Cap Clump. A lonely relic of this racecourse perhaps?

In recent months, things have been very quiet in that peaceful, beautiful and fanciful hill village of Kelderdale.

The community's chronicler has recorded a dearth of interesting events but, suddenly, the entire place was enlivened by a totally unexpected development.

An anonymous benefactor left the sum of £35,000 in her will with the stipulation that it should be used to construct a bus shelter for the benefit of the inhabitants.

An emergency meeting of the parish council was therefore convened with Councillor Unthank in the chair.

After outlining the conditions of the bequest, Councillor Unthank proposed that a bus shelter sub-committee be appointed to find a site, consult with an architect and work with a top class construction company to erect the shelter.

"Hang on," said Councillor Muckraker. "There's one thing that seems to have been overlooked in all this. It's the fact we don't have any buses in Kelderdale."

"I can't see what that's got to do with it," responded the chairman. "There's plenty of villages round here with railway stations and no trains, and besides, what else can we do with that money?

"Our benefactor wants a bus shelter built, so that's what we'll have to do.

"If we don't make use of the money, it'll just get lost. There's no alternative, we must build a bus shelter, whether or not we have buses."

"If we build it," smiled Councillor Cowshed, "it might attract some buses."

"Good thinking," said the chairman. "We'll be ready for them when they come."

Councillor Strokelady then raised a very thoughtful point. "There is a site near the beck," he reminded the council. "It's perfect for a bus shelter, except that it's nowhere near the road.

"But it overlooks the water and is among the daffodils which grow in the spring. Very nice indeed.

"I reckon a bus shelter down there would be a real asset to the community, and the land is available."

"But it's a long way off the road", put in Councillor Cowshed.

"That doesn't matter because we haven't any buses anyway," said Strokelady.

"I was thinking that lots of people would love a conservatory on their houses, to enjoy the views in all weathers, but can't afford one.

"I reckon we should build something like a conservatory down by the beck, so that all villagers could enjoy the views and the peace, and if we make it look like a rather posh bus shelter, then it would fulfil our benefactor's conditions. It would be a community bus shelter."

And so the Kelderdale bus shelter is now there for all to enjoy.