Although August has a reputation for producing some of the hottest days of the year, it can also deliver a spell of cold weather, often within the first few days, and in addition we might experience wet and windy conditions, thunderstorms, floods and even fog.

In other words, the month can surprise us with its variety of weather conditions and we might be tempted to believe this is somehow associated with the modern worries about changes to the climate.

The truth is, from the weather aspect, August has long been very turbulent and uncertain - country people have always expected the so-called Lammas floods which often plague the first days of the month, August thunderstorms can be long and dramatic, it can be very cold in the second week, while on August 9, 1911 the temperature recorded at Greenwich in London rose to a stunning 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

In addition, of course, warm nights are a feature of this period and one ancient saying tells us that, in August, the crops ripen as much by night as they do by day. The rain, however, is not universally considered a bad thing - in many continental countries, rain in August is regarded as highly beneficial to the ripening crops although in this country, we tend to believe the English saying that

Dry August and warm, doth the harvest no harm.

Dragon delight

One of the delights of a waterside stroll at this time of year is the chance of seeing a dragonfly.

At first sight, these huge, colourful and handsome insects with two sets of whirring wings and a body up to four inches long can be somewhat alarming but in fact they are harmless to humans; they do not sting and they prey on smaller insects as they cruise around their waterside territories.

More than two dozen varieties can be found in this country, and in addition there are the smaller damselflies which look very much like miniature versions of their larger cousins.

There is little doubt our forefathers were very cautious of dragonflies and damselflies; this is reflected in their alternative names which can include horse-stingers, devil's darning needles, flying adders and snake-feeders, none of which appear to have any origins in truth.

A dragonfly is a speedy flier too - some estimates reckon they can reach up to 60 mph and they are also capable of flying long distances, sometimes on journeys which take them well away from water.

They do prefer to remain near water, however, often cruising around their own territories which they fiercely guard against trespassing visitors. The guardian of a piece of territory will savagely fight any invader, tearing pieces from its wings and body in its efforts to drive it away.

The more gentle damselflies, however, seldom venture far from water and their flight is weaker and far more delicate than the sheer pace and power of dragonflies.

One easy means of distinguishing between a dragonfly and a damselfly, apart from their size, is the fact that dragonflies rest with their wings spread open, and damselflies close theirs above their bodies, in the manner of butterflies.

Among the dragonflies, however, there are two quite distinct groups, hawkers and darters.

These names give some idea of their methods of hunting. Hawkers behave like some birds of prey - they patrol around their territory on hunting expeditions and will catch almost any kind of flying insect in flight. They use a combination of powerful legs with hook-like bristles on them, which they thrust forward and dangle to act as a kind of cage or trap, but this is aided by powerful jaws.

Very little intended prey can escape a hunting dragonfly, and the catch is devoured on some suitable perch, with the unfortunate captive's wings being discarded.

Darters, as the name suggests, hunt by playing a waiting game on waterside plants, and then darting out to snatch a passing morsel, invariably another flying insect of some kind. In appearance, a darter's body is sometimes rather more stocky than a hawker, although many darters are quite slender.

Both hawkers and darters have beautifully coloured bodies, ranging from blues and greens, to reds and yellows with additional markings in brown, black, cream or some other shade. Damselfiles are similarly adorned in the most brilliant colours and when either is active over the water, the effect is almost jewel-like, with the sun shimmering from their bodies and reflecting from their busy wings.

Although the nymphs of both dragonflies and damselflies can spend up to two years under water in their formative period, hibernating in the mud during the winter period, their actual flying life is very short - perhaps a month. So this is a splendid time to spot them!

Leaving the nest

Now for our wagtail saga! For the past fortnight, we have been sharing the patio with our second family of nesting wagtails, using it only sparingly ourselves to allow the parent birds to feed the nestlings without undue interruption.

This brood has been noisier than the first, with all the nestlings chirping most of the time their parents were away foraging for food, and producing even more noise when the parents returned with a meal.

We had no idea how many youngsters had hatched although I guessed four or five, the usual number, but this morning we were rewarded by a fascinating sight. As I carried my morning coffee on to the patio, I chanced to spot the female wagtail on our garden wall. There was a youngster with her, a pinkish-grey bird with a shorter tail than the adult and a distinctive black mark beneath the chin. She was showing it how to catch flies, and then performed a short flight - and the chick emulated its mum.

As the nest in the ivy behind me still contained some chirping chicks, we realised they were all about to leave the nest and so we adjourned to our utility room which provided a good view of the nest site. And within minutes, a second chick broke cover, making a clumsy attempt to fly and this was accompanied by a good deal of encouragement from the mother. We saw no sign of dad during these important moments but soon that chick managed to take off and land on our garden wall.

Then another one emerged to perform a very shaky circular flight during which it almost crashed into our garden seat before coming to rest on some trellis bearing a climbing rose. It had an awful struggle to find a foothold. It chirped loud and long, but eventually settled in a dignified perching style as mother waited nearby; we watched all these dramas within a few feet of the birds and then another one appeared, but this one seemed content to walk around the patio rather than fly.

It was as large as the female parent and stood rather more upright, but it did have the distinctive tail of the species, and it did wag it up and down, just like the grown-ups.

After a few minutes walking around, it eventually took a short, unskilled flight to land further along the patio, but within a few minutes had reached the top of the garden wall. Within minutes, though, all had disappeared and we returned indoors. At lunchtime, therefore, we had a meal uninterrupted by wagtails demanding our departure, although the female did reappear to sit for awhile on the garage roof, watching us for a few minutes. And then she was gone.

I have not seen any of those chicks since that time. It was truly fascinating - and a privilege - to be present as they left their nest one by one, tiny creatures only two weeks old who had to face the savage world of nature into which they have been born. Our patio is now ours once more, but some wagtails produce a third brood.

Playing felty

A small dialect note to conclude this week's diary. I heard a Yorkshire man say that his grandchildren loved to play felty. He was referring to hide and seek, but it's a long time since I heard 'felt' used in this sense. 'Felt' was often used to mean 'hide' but 1 wonder if the word has now fallen into virtual disuse