A tree full of charming qualities

I am sure this is to do with its role in building the warships of our past and providing wonderful old beams in ancient houses and castles.

Forests of oak - including Royal forests - were not uncommon and even today this king of trees is regarded as a symbol of our nation's strength and durability.

However, we should not overlook the more graceful lines of the common ash. The beauty of this tree, both with and without its foliage, has earned it the name of Venus of the Woods (not to be confused with the Lady of the Woods, a name given to the silver birch).

I was reminded of the splendours of the ash during this morning's countryside walk, for my route contained several wonderful examples.

Older specimens have flourished along the road verges as well as in some nearby fields, while several younger ones are now making their presence known in the hedgerows.

These youngsters have avoided the severe cutting of hedges and now form useful and interesting additions to the rural scenery.

At this time of year their outlines are bare but highly distinctive, their smooth greyish-green bark tipped with pointed dots of black being one of their best-known points of identification.

The older trees tends to develop fissures on their trunks, but the younger ones boast beautifully smooth bark, while those pointed black objects are their leaf buds.

Before the leaves appear, however, the ash will produce male and female flowers, on the same tree but on different twigs, and when seen from a distance these can give the tree a purplish tinge in that period before the leaves open.

And then, of course, the oak creeps back into the picture, for most of us will wonder whether the oak or the ash will be the first into leaf.

There are times, however, when an ash produces no female flowers, which means, of course, there will be no seeds that year and, furthermore, the seeds will not germinate until the second spring after being sown.

While most of us appreciate the range of uses to which we put the timber provided by the oak, we should not overlook the merits of the ash.

Its wood is very light-coloured with a beautiful grain, but its chief asset is its strength.

Although the timber looks dainty and graceful, which suggests its use in the manufacture of dainty and graceful objects, it is in fact among our toughest of woods, while also being one of the most pliable.

It is said that wood taken from young ash trees will bear a greater strain than the wood of any other European tree of equal thickness.

It is these qualities which have led ash wood to be used in the manufacture of objects like oars, skis, tennis rackets and hockey sticks, while the tall, straight and slender shoots of the young trees are ideal for the handles of tools like hammers and axes, or even to make walking sticks and shepherds' crooks.

Although stick makers tend to use the hazel for the latter, the ash is a popular alternative - herdsmen of the past believed a stick made from ash protected their cattle against witchcraft.

The leaves of the ash are interesting in themselves - they are huge and comprise anything between nine and 13 leaflets, with an individual leaflet being capable of reaching up to three inches (8cm) in length.

This means that each full leaf is very heavy, which helps to explain the strength of each twig which bears it.

In many cases, these leaves tend to arrive late in the year, but they are also prone to fall early.

The flowers mature into those curious seeds which we often call keys - they grow in bunches, but each seed is at one end of the key while the remainder is a membrane about two inches long and bearing a slight twist.

When the ripe seed falls from the tree, it will spin in the air like a propeller to be carried off by the wind, and it will reach the ground seed first.

Some people call these "spinners", but the correct name for the seed is samara - that name also applies to the seeds of the sycamore.

With the ash being such an important part of our landscape over the centuries, it is not surprising it has attracted a wealth of folk lore.

The Norsemen considered it sacred and in their mythology Odin, the most important of their gods, carved the first man out of the wood of the ash. He was called Askr and his companion was a female made from the alder.

Here in England, it was thought that burning ash logs would drive away evil spirits and so they were popular in household fires, while one belief was that a sick child could be cured by passing him or her through a cleft in an ash tree.

A young ash was split, the child was passed through the gap and the tree was then bound tightly so the cleft would heal. As it did so, so the child would grow healthy.

Finally, ash logs are wonderful for domestic fires - they will even burn when green.

My mail bag this week contains two letters about birds. The first is the corncrake. A correspondent from Carlton Miniott near Thirsk has written a very erudite letter about the vital role of farmers and landowners in protecting wild life, and he refers in particular to the corncrake.

He mentions the Western Isles of Scotland where farmers, thanks to subsidies and a good deal of advice and help from the RSPB, have volunteered to delay the cutting of their hay until corncrakes are able to rear their chicks. The result has been a spectacular rise in the number of corncrakes.

The corncrake has the unfortunate habit of nesting among grass which is needed for hay or silage, although it will sometimes make use of a corn field, but the harvesting of the grass inevitably means any nests or eggs are destroyed, however unintentionally.

Thankfully, the experience of those in the Western Isles shows that, with goodwill among those in charge of our landscape along with advice from the experts, rare species such as the corncrake can survive or even flourish.

My correspondent is full of praise for farmers and landowners who exercise this kind of judgement, in spite of having to produce their crops in the face of low prices paid by supermarkets, the intrusion of the European Parliament and the after-effects of the foot-and-mouth disease outbreak.

Despite the struggles of our farmers, he expresses his optimism for the future, and explains that this was exemplified by the recent sighting of a covey of 13 grey partridges in the hedgerow at the bottom of his garden, the first such sighting for many years.

He feels our wild life has a good future, thanks to the consideration of those who work on our land, and with their help looks forward to hearing the corncrake once again in the Yorkshire countryside.

A reader from Kirkby in Cleveland near Stokesley has raised an interesting point by asking whether it is possible that a nightingale sang from the rooftops of a terrace of houses in Great Ayton on New Year's night.

Apparently, several witnesses claim to have heard this bird, some of whom were roused from their sleep, and my correspondent wonders whether this is a hoax or whether it could really have occurred.

The simple answer is that nothing is impossible, but a nightingale in such a northerly location in the midst of winter is highly unlikely.

Over the years, I have come across similar stories and most have been the outcome of some other bird, a blackbird or even a robin, suddenly deciding to sing in the middle of the night.

The sound of any of our finest songsters singing alone in the darkness is memorable and there is little wonder that any one of them could be mistaken for a nightingale.

Many years ago, there was a similar tale at Wass near Coxwold, when someone thought they heard a nightingale and, even without any positive proof, that story is still circulating.

It has developed into what might be termed the "Legend of the Wass Nightingale" - but it might be true!

I am sure, therefore, that the story of the Great Ayton nightingale will now enter the folk lore of this region - but is it true? Indeed, could it be true?

I cannot answer that question, but await with interest any further evidence of the identity of this mysterious night songster