Don't be alarmed - it isn't a snake

My immediate thought was that it was some kind of snake, but closer inspection showed it was a slow-worm.

It had lived up to its name only too well while attempting to cross a country lane near my home.

Judging by its position on the carriageway, it had almost reached its destination, for it was only some 18 inches from the verge, albeit flattened with its head towards the safety of deep vegetation.

Many people think the slow-worm is one of our native snakes, but in fact it is a lizard, even if it has no legs.

Snake-like in appearance and movement, it is harmless to humans and makes a good addition to one's garden where slugs are its favourite food, although it will tackle other insects and small creatures. It will not eat carrion, however, always preferring live food.

The colour of slow-worms varies considerably. However, all are very sleek with shiny skins which can vary from a silvery-grey to a dark brown, as well as light brown, tan and even a beautiful coppery shade.

Some females are lighter underneath, while the older males can produce blue spots upon their bodies.

Unlike snakes, slow-worms can close their eyes and another of its tricks is to shed its tail if it is seized by a predator such as a bird of prey, frog, hedgehog, rat or even an adder. The wound will heal, but the tail will never re-grow to its original size.

Slow-worms can grow to a length of about 18ins (45cm) and can be seen in the countryside at this time of year.

Although they prefer to spend their days in hollows beneath rocks or tree roots, or even in a pile of leaves or soft earth, they will emerge to bask in the warm sunshine.

They do enjoy sunning themselves, frequently using warm stones on hillsides and banks, though generally preferring places with plenty of cover in case they have to make a sudden dash for safety.

As autumn intensifies, however, they hibernate, usually starting in about early October.

They will find a cosy underground hiding place and remain there until the spring.

The heat of the spring sunshine will often encourage them to venture out and within a week or two they will begin their courtship ritual, the young being born around August or early September.

These delightful and pleasant creatures should not be confused with the adder, which is easily identifiable because it has a black zig-zag pattern along its spine and the males can grow up to two feet in length (60cm) with the female considerably larger.

The adder is our only native poisonous snake, but is very shy and will move away from humans rather than attack them.

If an adder is surprised, however, it may re-act with a swift bite. This is rarely fatal, although it does require hospital treatment.

The grass snake is our largest and most common snake, the female of which can grow up to 4ft in length (120cm), with the male being a shade smaller.

Grass snakes vary widely in colour, ranging from dark grey-green to a light olive shade, with short black bars adorning their lower bodies.

Grass snakes are harmless to humans and spend a lot of their time basking in the summer sunshine.

They hibernate during the winter, but lay their eggs in places which generate heat, such as compost or manure heaps and piles of rotting leaves.

It is not unknown for several grass snakes to share the same nesting site.

When the young are born in such a communal nest it can give rise to rumours of a snake invasion, but it is simply several families of youngsters emerging around the same time to set about the hectic business of survival.

Following my notes about rosebay willow herb and its tall pink-flowered cousins, I am reminded of another lofty wild plant which is very prominent during the summer months.

Along the route of my morning walk, there is a huge clump of these in a disused quarry, for they seem to favour waste land and river banks.

The plant in question produces flowers of a beautiful purple-pink colour or a lovely white and it can grow to a height of about 6ft, with leaves shaped like spear-heads.

The flowers are distinctive, not only due to their colour, but also because they look rather like some types of orchid, and the stems are sturdy with ribs running their length to give them added strength.

Many know these flowers as policeman's helmets and another common name is jumping jack, but their formal name is Himalayan balsam.

They were introduced to this country from Asia in about 1839-40, and although they were originally cultivated in greenhouses, the seeds managed to escape into the countryside where the flowers flourished.

The Himalayan balsam is now well established in the wild throughout Britain. I believe its "policeman's helmet" name comes from the shape of the flower heads, but the alternative name arises from the balsam's remarkable method of seed distribution.

The seeds are contained in pear-shaped capsules and when these are ripe the sides crack open as if they are spring-loaded and hurl the seeds over a long distance.

If anyone walks past these plants when the seeds are ripe, their presence is often sufficient to trigger off the capsules - large amounts of them will explode at the same time to bombard both the hiker and the surrounding landscape.

It is not surprising that these seeds managed to escape from greenhouses more than 150 years ago.

The name of jumping jack is therefore very apt and another variety, the only native British balsam (impatiens nolitangere), has earned the name of touch-me-not for the same reason. Its seeds can be triggered by the lightest touch of any kind.

Among my correspondence this week is an e-mail from a Dales reader who tells me that she and her husband feed many birds, among which are lots of jackdaws.

These have now produced their youngsters and some parents have been bringing their offspring to enjoy the hospitality of my correspondent's feeding station.

Like most birds, however, these jackdaws, young and old alike, will fly away if humans make an appearance.

Even if someone ventures close to the house window which overlooks the feeding area the birds will fly off.

There is one exception, however. He is one of this season's young jackdaws who seems to enjoy spending time with some young rabbits, but my correspondent tells me that he seems to prefer walking to flying.

He does not fly away when approached by humans, but instead will walk away from them.

My correspondent wonders if anyone can explain why this lone jackdaw behaves so differently from his companions.

He does not appear to be injured or incapacitated in any way and I can offer no real explanation save to say that jackdaws are known for their tameness.

It might be that this young bird has somehow formed an attachment to those who have been feeding it, or to the surroundings in which it has been reared.

Maybe, in the fullness of time, it will leave for pastures new. Meanwhile, my correspondent can enjoy and ponder its curious behaviour.

Another letter comes from Philip Ross of Great Ayton (D&S Aug 2). He displays his usual abysmal ignorance of Catholic history and seems to think it was quite right that Father Postgate should have been hanged, drawn and quartered because he had been trained overseas as a priest.

If my knowledge of religion is correct, I thought Christ also taught his apostles in a foreign country. I wonder what the Elizabethans would have done to Christ, had he dared to set foot in England to preach the gospel during the penal times?

And Mussolini did not give the Vatican to the Pope. Vatican Hill dates to the fifth century BC and it was to this place that St Peter came to establish the church.

He was martyred there during the 64-67 persecutions and also buried there. He now lies under the present basilica. And incidentally, St Peter, the first Pope, also trained overseas