Welcome to the month of many weathers and lengthening days

It is named after Mars, the god of war, and in Anglo-Saxon times in this country was known as Hreth-Monath or Hyldmonath, the stormy or windy month. In some places, it was also known as Lenctenmonath, the month of lengthening days.

It is widely known as the month of many weathers. During the coming weeks we can expect anything and everything from warm, sunny days to fierce winds by way of rain, snow, frost and even fog. Sometimes we get the lot within a very short time and sometimes March produces surprises with warm, mild days and lots of sunshine.

There is an old country tradition that March borrows its first three days from February, which means they can sometimes be very wintry.

Many of us are familiar with the old saying "If March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb", with the alternative "If March comes in like a lamb, it will go out like a lion." The lion and lamb represent the extremes of the weather patterns which can affect this month.

Generally, March is known for its winds, which dry the earth in a remarkably rapid time. It is said that a windy, dry March is always good for crops which follow in the autumn, the old saying being that "A peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom." In other words, agriculture benefits from the drying winds of March.

A walk among the foothills which form the lower slopes of the North York Moors was rewarded by the sight of two fallow deer. They were quietly foraging behind a hedge which runs along the side of the lane and surprisingly close to a pair of occupied cottages.

We came upon them by sheer chance. A strong wind was blowing from their direction towards us and I am sure its presence prevented the deer being aware of our approach. We managed to get within some 20 yards of them before they were alerted and then, with the speed of light, they turned and fled, with their distinctive white rump markings making them readily identifiable.

How they managed to vanish so completely and so silently in such open countryside was the mystery they left for us to contemplate, although there were clumps of gorse and some ground cover in the form of briar entanglements and undulating land. None of those was high enough for a fallow deer to stand behind while hiding and I doubt they would think to lie behind those screens, hiding like naughty schoolchildren. How they disappeared so quickly remains a puzzle.

In this case, the deer were sporting their winter coats, both being a greyish-brown without the spots which are such a feature of their summer dress. Neither bore antlers, but I did not get close enough to see whether either were showing the beginnings of a new set. I was unsure, therefore, whether the pair were both female or whether they were young bucks without their first growth of antlers.

A young fallow buck will begin to grow his first set around this time of year and by the summer they will be twin spikes without the familiar branches. It will not be until the early summer of his second year that the more familiar shape of his antlers will be seen, with the full magnificent set materialising by the end of the following August.

It is not possible to gauge a deer's age from the number of points on his antlers, except to say that he is either young or mature. The fully grown antlers will be cast during each spring, any time between March and June, when the buck has to endure the process of growing a new set.

Fallow deer, perhaps the most numerous of those species which live in the wild in our region, can appear in various colours. Some are a very pale and dull brownish-grey, others are black and there are also some white varieties. All will interbreed with each other.

Some time ago, I saw a beautiful black buck in the woods between Rievaulx Abbey and Sutton Bank Top, but in the summer the most usual colour for both male and female is a warm chestnut-brown with white spots along the back and flanks.

Highly distinctive is the white rump patch with black borders, seen on both sexes. When the deer flees, this is eminently visible. One problem with identification through that white patch on the rump is that other species sport similar adornments. The sika deer, for example, also shows a distinctive white rump when it is alarmed and, in its case, the hairs will be flared, probably as a warning to their companions.

The sika, slightly smaller than the fallow, is not native to this country, but was introduced from central Asia about the middle of the 19th century. It was kept in deer parks, but in time several escaped to live in the wild, where they quickly adapted to the British environment. They are now becoming increasingly plentiful in our coniferous woodlands.

By far the largest of our native species is the red deer. This magnificent animal, which stands about 4ft tall at the shoulder (120cm), is found mainly in the Scottish Highlands. But it has spread to our woodlands and upland regions as far south as Exmoor and the New Forest.

Although red deer don't have striking white rumps, they are more lightly coloured than the rest of their dark reddish-brown coats, but the large size of the red deer, both male and female, readily sets it apart from the others.

Much smaller is the roe deer, another common resident of our forests and upland areas. It also has a distinctive white rump which is clearly evident when fleeing in alarm and its coat in summer is a warm reddish-brown, not as dark as the red deer. At the shoulder, this deer is about half the height of the red and it is extremely agile, well capable of jumping over fences and gates.

In the past, this was a very common species throughout Britain until, for reasons which have never been clear, its numbers dwindled until it was considered almost a rarity. To counter this decline, numbers were re-introduced to parts of the country and today the roe deer is once more plentiful in our wilder regions.

By far the smallest is the muntjac, also known as the barking deer due to its distinctive call. Sometimes called the Chinese deer, it was introduced to Woburn Park just over a century ago and, as always, specimens escaped and survived in the wild. They quickly spread to the Home Counties, but can now be seen further afield. When alarmed, it raises its tail, which has a white underside, not the white patch of its companions.

I have received a note from the British Trust for Ornithology in which concern is expressed at the rapid decline of some of our wild birds.

In the past year, three birds have suffered more than a 50pc decline in numbers, these being the yellow wagtail with a 67pc decline since 1967, the willow warbler with a 58pc decline and, surprisingly, the cuckoo, whose numbers have plummeted by 56pc.

This has happened despite efforts by many landowners and farmers to provide space for wild birds, although initiatives of that kind have led to some welcome improvements.

Numbers of song thrushes, for example, have increased in recent years, while marsh tits and reed buntings also appear to be recovering.

On a purely personal note, I have noticed more lapwings than for some time. Otherwise known as peewits or green plovers, these handsome birds in their green and white plumage form flocks during the winter, spending time in warmer areas on the coast or marshy areas where food is available.

About this time they will leave the flocks and return to the moorlands, where we might expect to see their remarkable tumbling displays of courtship. It was these curious acrobatics in the air which led to the name lapwing - it comes from hleapewince, meaning to run and twist. They run along the ground in short bursts while feeding, while their twisting courtship flights are so very distinctive.

These birds have long been welcomed by landowners because they feed on pests like wireworms and leatherjackets. Consequently, they can often be seen feeding on recently ploughed fields.

But a moorland without the distinctive sight and sound of the peewit is hard to contemplate