Come out and get it, chicks are told

Then one evening, we realised things were on the point of change. One of the parents - and I can't distinguish the male from the female - appeared at the box carrying a green delicacy, a caterpillar I think. This bird did not enter the box, however; this time, the hungry youngsters were not going to be fed. Instead, the parent bird dangled the food temptingly in front of the chicks, first by holding it right in the centre of the entrance hole and then by performing acrobatics on the roof and dangling the caterpillar at the entrance hole in full sight of the youngsters. And chirp as they might, that piece of food was not going to be delivered. That night, they would go hungry.

We got the message, and I think the chicks did too. We realised the parent bird was saying to the brood: "Look, chicks, if you want this you've got to come out and get it!" But as it was dusk, none emerged. I guessed they would be given a repeat performance at dawn the following morning and equally, I guessed our nest box would be deserted by the following evening.

Having watched a family of wagtails fly the nest last year, I was looking forward to seeing the blue tits do likewise. But I had to travel to London early the following morning to attend a Heartbeat writers' meeting and when I returned at around 7pm, the birds had flown. The nest was deserted and there was no sign of our family of infant blue tits.

I do know that a brood can comprise as many as a dozen babies and for a while after leaving the nest, they will remain together as a family group but I have not seen them since that time. In spite of their absence, I am more than happy that our nest box has produced a brood but I do wonder where on earth they've all gone!

Home and garden

One very attractive and interesting development in recent years is the way in which the residents of our villages are prepared to open their gardens to the public, usually to raise funds for charity. More and more village organisations are persuading their members and other residents to do this and the results are both delightful and wonderful.

Gardens which, from the street or the perspective of a passer-by, seem to be lacking any kind of special interest or design, are revealed as marvellous places which display a huge variety of artistic and practical skills, aided by examples of some quite brilliant imagination. There is much evidence of hard work too, and some amazing skills with stone, cement and flowing water.

Most of these gems cannot be viewed from the street, and can only be truly appreciated by going behind the scenes and into the private world of the owners or occupiers.

Although I have no claims to any gardening skill, I do enjoy visiting gardens of every kind, whether they form part of a huge country house or a tiny cottage. As I explore such places - and this time of the year is ideal for doing so - I can sense a change in the functions of many ordinary domestic gardens.

So many of them seem to have abandoned the practice of producing fruit and vegetables for home consumption. The cottage garden, which was once full of beans, peas, potatoes, lettuce, cabbages and sprouts, now seems to be an increasingly rare sight.

Instead, gardens have become places of leisure, with an array of seats, patios, water features and borders which are thick with shrubs and ground-cover plants to defy the onset of weeds.

Gardens are more like an extension of the house, an outdoor room designed for leisure and comfort. In some there are statues to watch over our antics and subdued lights to guide us along paths and over lawns; others have cabins or nearby conservatories as additional aids to comfort, there are sundials galore and places to sit and eat, or just sit and dream.

I must confess that our garden has been altered to fit this new style, although in our case I was compelled to re-think its design after a massive conifer blew down and demolished most of the existing features. It knocked down a wall, felled a few trees, damaged the lawn, smashed a rose arch and trellis and made quite a mess of that portion where, by tradition, I grew my vegetables.

But in removing that tree and examining the damage, we removed some other dangerous trees and suddenly found ourselves with a garden which boasted wide open views, got sunshine all day and lent itself to a garden for relaxing rather than one requiring non-stop work.

I exercised my dry-stone walling skills by rebuilding the wall, found enough stones buried in the soil to build more walls, a wide stone path and even a patio and, like those leisure gardens I'd seen in several villages, placed seats in secluded places and replaced my vegetable patch with flowers and shrubs.

It was with these changes in mind that, by chance, I came across an account in which the author writes: "If you look into our gardens annexed to our houses, how wonderfully is their beauty increased, not only with flowers and a variety of curious and costly workmanship, but also with rare and medicinable herbs."

He could have been praising the gardens to which I have referred but, in fact, he was writing in 1587. The author was William Harrison and his book was called Description of England. He went on to say that, 40 years prior to publication of his work, the gardens were little more than dunghills, but at the time of his book, he said that art was helping nature.

He said: "Art helpeth nature in the daily colouring, doubling and enlarging the proportion of our flowers, it is incredible to report. For so curious and cunning are our gardeners now in these days that they presume to do in manner what they list with nature, and moderate her course in things as if they were her superiors."

He went on to say that all manner of strange plants, herbs and annual fruits were being daily brought into England from overseas - from the Indies, Americas, Taprobane and the Canary Isles, and from all parts of the world (I'm not sure where Taprobane is!)

He wondered how, if God had provided every country with the essentials for its own survival, these plants would flourish in a strange environment.

He said: "Their odoriferous savours upon the nose are to be cherished."

He went on to say that there was scarcely one nobleman, gentleman or merchant who did not have these new plants which had begun to wax so well in our soils. He was surprised how well the foreign plants had adapted to our climate and at one point felt they might be taking over the functions of some of our native species.

It is quite astonishing that words written almost 500 years ago are so apt in our modern society - and that our modern gardens are enjoying a revival which mirrors that which occurred during the time of Shakespeare and Queen Elizabeth I.

Finkle-pickers?

A recent visit to Swaledale and Wensleydale, taking in both Hawes and Richmond, reminded me of the number of Finkle Streets which exist in our market towns. I think it is apt to suggest that most of our Finkle Streets contain sharp corners or acute bends, although it is equally true to add that some may have been straightened in the past.

I believe the word comes from the old Danish vinide which means a corner or a bend, so this is yet another example of our Viking heritage. In some cases, vinide is spelt as winkle, and those of us who live on the coast are familiar with those snail-like creatures of that name - they live in shells with sharp bends.

There are four species of winkle and they are also called peri-winkles. The edible winkle is usually eaten with the aid of a long pin which was known as a winkle-picker, the name also given to fashionable 1960s' shoes with long and very pointed toes.

Maybe a whole new trend of street-wise shoes could be called finkle-pickers