The day Old Bartle feels the heat

Certainly, it is around this period that we experience fresh dew on our lawns and fields and there is also that first hint of chilliness in the late night air as the evening darkness begins so much earlier.

Some old weather prognosticators believed that whatever the weather on St Bartholomew's Day, so it would be throughout the entire autumn which lay ahead, while others felt that the 40 days of rain forecast on St Swithin's Day would end on St Bartholomew's.

Another piece of rural forecasting said that if St Bartholomew's Day began with a mist and a hoar frost, then cold weather would follow and we would later have to endure a very hard winter.

In Wensleydale, of course, St Bartholomew's Day is celebrated for another reason. This is the curious custom of Burning Old Bartle, which is part of Witton Feast, held on the Saturday nearest to St Bartholomew's Day.

The true identity of Old Bartle has led to lots of speculation. It is doubtful if the villagers of West Witton would burn an effigy of the patron saint of their church (St Bartholomew), so Old Bartle might be associated with an ancient sun deity called Baal or he might have been a horse thief, or the ceremony might even be linked to pagan times when the last sheaf of corn was supposed to contain the corn spirit.

The late summer display of wild flowers is almost as spectacular as the spring showing of new blooms, with a wonderful variety all struggling to reveal their finest colours and endeavouring to show their memorable blossoms to the world before they terminate their short lives.

Prominent among them are the handsome, if weed-like, willowherb family and just now my daily morning walk is enlivened by two members of this group of flowers.

They are the easily recognised rosebay willowherb, which is so familiar to most of us, and the equally dominant great willowherb, which is sometimes called the great hairy willowherb.

Each has very attractive pink flowers and grow to a height of four or five feet at least, but they are so different in shape and style that one might be tempted to think they are not related.

The rosebay willowherb is very common, especially on rough ground and wasteland areas, and most of us recognise its tall poker-like shape with the pinkish-purple head of flowers at the tip.

The leaves are rather like those of a willow tree, being long and pointed, hence the flower's name.

The flower heads grow to a point and each contains a dense cluster of very pretty pink flowers which, in the autumn, produce long capsules of seeds, sometimes called cods.

When ripe, these split along their length to release a white downy cloud of seeds on what look like wisps of cotton wool.

These respond to the slightest breath of wind and can blow in huge clouds when a stronger breeze catches them.

Quite literally, the air can become thick with these flying seeds as they head for new sites, often a long distance away. It is a most effective means of distributing the rosebay willowherb's seeds.

For some reason, the rosebay willowherb likes land upon which fires have burned - it used to be popular on bomb sites and railway tracks where it loved to grow among the cinders - and for this reason it is widely known as the fireweed. In America, fireweed honey is very popular.

Not surprisingly, the flower became a common sight on land laid waste during World War II and was regarded by some as a symbol of revival.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was not very common in Victorian times when it was used as a garden plant, but once it succeeds in establishing itself, it will quite literally smother all other flowers until it dominates a patch of ground.

It can also regenerate itself by sending shoots horizontally from its roots, and so it can cover a large area very quickly.

For this reason, huge clumps of rosebay willowherb are to be found around the countryside although, on occasions, the odd foxglove can be spotted among them.

The appearance of the great hairy willowherb is quite different from the rosebay.

It has single flowers at the head, each comprising four notched petals, rather similar to those of the Lady's Smock.

Their colouring is very similar to that of the rosebay willowherb, a very attractive pinkish-purple, but the leaves are long and narrow, rather like the willow tree, but in this case they are covered with hairs, hence the plant's name.

The main stems of the plant are also hairy and although this plant favours damp areas such as the banks of streams, ditches and other damp areas, it can also be found on wasteland some distance from the water.

It spreads by issuing fleshy hairy stems which grow beneath the surface of damp soil to form huge patches of this plant.

One of the best known alternative names of the great hairy willowherb is codlins-and-cream, but it boasts other names associated with some of our favourite dishes, such as apple pie, cherry pie, custard cups, plum pudding, currant dumpling, gooseberry pudding, sugar codlings, coddled apples and gooseberry pie.

It seems that the name codlings-and-cream was given to the flower by a very early botanist, who claimed that when the leaves were crushed they produced a scent which reminded him of this dish.

A codling was a type of apple, but when later botanists crushed the leaves to test their scent, they produced no characteristic smell.

Another theory is that it derives from the flower's seed capsule, but those early botanists felt the flower reminded them of nice and colourful sweet dishes.

There are other type of willowherb, one being the broadleaved willowherb, which is a persistent weed.

It has very pale pink flowers and does not grow as high as the former two; its leaves are broader too, and it favours shady places like the shelter of hedgerows or the thick borders of our gardens.

Among the other species are the New Zealand willowherb, which is a form of creeper which has adapted to the north of England, the Alpine willowherb, which is a dwarf plant found on hillsides and mountains in the north, and the marsh willowherb, which has droopy pink flowers and favours damp areas and marshland.

The square-stemmed willowherb has a stout stalk, but this is rare in the north, while the short-fruited willowherb is very similar in appearance, although its flowers are a deeper pink.

Following my comments in this column (D&S July 12) about the death of a calf, allegedly resulting from interference by a hiker and subsequent unauthorised action by the RSPCA and a veterinary surgeon, I have been in correspondence with the RSPCA, which has asked me to present its version of the incident.

It occurred a long way from this region, in a village called Whitchurch on Thames, and I am told that an RSPCA inspector was called to the calf late at night.

It was very sick, in a collapsed condition and clearly needed urgent medical attention or even putting down.

Although it is standard procedure for the RSPCA to notify the owners of animals in such cases, on this occasion, and bearing in mind the severe urgency of the situation, the animal was treated immediately without the owner's knowledge or consent.

It was felt that any delay would jeopardise the calf's chances of survival.

Sadly, this calf died, but the RSPCA assures me it acted in the best interests of the animal on the advice of a veterinary surgeon who was present on site with the RSPCA inspector.

I wish to thank the RSPCA for their efforts in tracing the origins of this incident.

Two small observations with which to conclude. First, there appear to be fewer house martins this year.

Our swift and swallow population appears normal, or have the martins not yet begun their nesting operations?

And second, as our local swifts were hurtling around the heavens, a helicopter passed nearby and then a small aircraft - and the swifts were not in the least alarmed. Is this due to evolution