Countryman's Diary: Contempt for our countryside

Limited time meant we could only enjoy a short outing for a couple of hours or so; consequently, we opted for a light lunch at the Lion inn, Blakey, between Castleton and Hutton-le-Hole, followed by a gentle walk across the surrounding moors.

Suitably clad in hiking boots and waterproofs, we decided to take in the two Ralph crosses, Fat Betty and the Elgee memorial stone, and because much of the moorland itself was saturated with standing water, we opted for roadside verges for much of our walk, rather than wet moorland paths and sheep trods.

Part of our ramble, therefore, was along the wide nearside grass verge which borders the road from the Lion inn towards Young Ralph Cross and Castleton, with Teesside beyond. A shallow ditch runs alongside this verge and it is scarcely visible from passing vehicles - but it is easily seen when walking alongside.

Quite literally, every stride between the inn and the approach to Young Ralph was marked with an item of tourist litter which had been thrown, or blown, into that ditch. As I strode onwards, I began to wonder if I would encounter just a few litter-free paces, but it was not to be.

Hundreds of items of litter dominated that entire short walk. I noted drink cans by the score, plastic and glass bottles, crisp packets, sweet wrappers, sandwich packs, cigarette packets, the foil remains of a pack of indigestion tablets, a yellow duster, a T-shirt, a complete exhaust pipe for a car, three dead sheep, several plastic shopping bags, a plastic sack, an old sandal, parts of a car tyre, a woman's magazine, a newspaper, several brown paper bags and miscellaneous bits of paper and plastic.

This gawdy junk could not be seen very easily from a passing car, and it required a foot passenger to become aware of the mess because it had lodged in that ditch, then full of water, but it represents a growing disgrace, a rotten form of contempt for our splendid countryside.

Who left it there? As that ditch runs along the nearside of the road as one heads for Teesside, it is not too difficult to believe it came from car passengers on their way home after a day in the countryside. Some of the rubbish will be dealt with by nature, but much will remain to blight the landscape for years - and some is downright dangerous to people, animals and the moors themselves, such as glass bottles.

It is almost impossible to prevent thoughtless motorists casting rubbish from their vehicles if they believe no-one is watching. There must be a case however, for the owners of vehicles from which litter is thrown having penalty points added to their driving licences, in addition to any fine that might be imposed.

To risk the eventual loss of one's driving licence through being a litter lout might serve as a powerful deterrent while making the car owners responsible for the behaviour of all their passengers.

Lengthman, where

art thou?

Another point has arisen due to this kind of problem. There is no doubt that litter increases in direct proportion to the number of tourists, and for this reason, in country areas, we do miss those characters known as lengthmen.

Most communities had their own lengthman, a road worker who, among other things, tended the verges, collected litter, kept the drains clear, dealt with snowdrifts and spread grit when conditions were icy. He was literally on the spot to deal with such problems, he knew where and when to make a special effort - but all we have now is a huge suction machine which patrols from time to time and which misses the most important and nuisance-making areas.

But it's a pity we can't make litter dumpers pay for the services of those who have to tidy up their mess.

The marrow

of a sock

A correspondent from Easingwold has written following my references to the word marrow, meaning a pair of similar objects, a couple of matching animals or even a match of any kind. He tells me that his mother, who hails from Cheshire, used the word especially when sorting socks!

She spent time looking for the marrow of a sock. Don't we all! He does raise the question of the spelling of this word, but, like so many examples of dialect, the spelling can vary according to local pronunciation because most dialect is phonetic. Thus marrow, marra or marrer may be found in dialect dictionaries.

The same correspondent makes reference to the word shippen or shippon meaning a cattle byre or cowshed. This word was also used in Cheshire by his father and he asks whether it is common in Yorkshire and the North-East.

Although I have occasionally heard the word in the North Riding of Yorkshire, it is not widely used in modern times, and it does seem to have been more prevalent in the southerly and westerly parts of Yorkshire. I believe the word was fairly common in the West Riding but even there, it seems to be rarely used now.

It does not feature in Richard Blakeborough's dictionary which appears in his Yorkshire Wit, Character, Folklore and Customs, nor it is listed in A Dictionary of the Dialect of the North Riding of Yorkshire by Sir Alfred Pease. It is not in my collection of Lake District words either, although Arnold Kellett's Yorkshire Dictionary, published in 1994 and covering the entire county past and present, does include the word. He spells it both as shippen and shippon.

One aspect of shippen is that I did hear, years ago, that some northern inns which now bear the name Ship Inn, were former cowsheds.

And finally, a shibben is a shoe lace.

Little fighters

Winter visitors to our more remote upland areas, where conifers dominate the landscape, might be rewarded by the sight of our smallest bird. It is Europe's smallest bird too.

This is the goldcrest, which is fractionally smaller, and more brightly coloured, than our delightful jenny wren. Indeed, the bird is sometimes called the golden-crested wren, although I have not heard this name for some years.

Although goldcrests are present throughout the year, they do tend to migrate southwards during the winter months, usually favouring conifer plantations as their habitat. Indeed, they nest among conifers, slinging their wonderfully constructed homes beneath the branches, but once the breeding season is over, they can be seen among deciduous trees.

Their food tends to be insects of various kinds. as well as spiders.

These tiny birds, only 3in long (9cm), are members of the warbler family. Their high-pitched si-si-si notes might be the first indication of their presence but among the dark, green foliage of a conifer plantation or in the midst of other evergreens, they are very difficult to see. With dull green backs and buff underparts, they tend to merge very skillfully with the background, but the male can be identified through his bright orange crest which sits, like a small mane, on his head. The female has a yellow crest, and each species' crest is bordered by a black edge.

These charming little birds are surprisingly tame and will permit humans to get very close to them, but they are also pugnacious fighters, defending their youngsters against all-comers. A male bird will fight to the death against another male who threatens to steal his partner - like so many small creatures, they are surprisingly brave in defending themselves and their families.

The goldcrest has a cousin of the same size and very similar appearance. This is the much rarer firecrest which is more of a bird of passage, sometimes spending its winters in the south of England.

With brighter plumage than the goldcrest, both sexes have an orange crest, but the chief distinction is the black-and-white eyestripe and rather more white underparts. Like the goldcrest, this bird favour conifers where it often mingles with flocks of titmice