Hoping for the return of the elm

When they are clad with their distinctive foliage, that is a comparatively simple task but the seasonal absence of leaves adds a new and interesting dimension.

Even without leaves, some species are easy to name, however the tall and slim Lombardy poplar is perhaps one of the easiest, along with the English oak which bears gnarled and twisted branches upon a sturdy trunk. The sycamore is not too difficult either it has a rather domed outline above a thick-set trunk, whilst the horse chestnut is always recognisable.

If you are out and about in the coming days, why not look for others? You might find rowan, hawthorn, elder, wild cherry, sweet chestnut, beech, lime, walnut, common ash, black poplar or aspen but see if you can find an English elm.

Sometimes known as the common elm, this might be described the aristocrat of our trees for it is handsome and elegant with an impressive height, so much so that it was planted by landowners in their country parks as an ornamental tree and along the hedgerows and in fields by farmers so that it provided a barrier and landmark where required.

The result of this enduring bout of elm planting was that the tree added a touch of graceful distinction to the countryside for until the 17th and 18th centuries, it was not particularly common in our landscape.

It did not take long for the elm to be accepted as a picturesque part of our heritage one example is the rural painting of The Haywain by John Constable which depicts the tree in all its glory and it became one of the most common trees in the English countryside. And then disaster struck.

In 1967, a disease entered this country and quickly destroyed millions of English elms, as many as one in five of those growing along our hedgerows. To date, more than twenty million elms in the United Kingdom have become victim to this disease and across the Atlantic in America, some 70pc of elms have been affected.

In this country it was earlier known that English elms were prone to some kind of internal problem which caused wastage some country people said that rooks would never nest in elms which were affected but the real situation was not identified until 1967 when a Dutch scientist discovered the cause. From that time forward, the disease has been known as Dutch elm disease.

It is spread by insects known as elm bark beetles or Scolytus Scolytus. Only a quarter of an inch long, this is a flying beetle which breeds beneath the bark of the elm, apparently being attracted by chemicals which are found only in elm trees.

Although the outbreak of Dutch elm disease is said to have officially begun in 1967, this beetle was known to have infested some of our trees as early as 1927 a tree in Huntingdonshire was affected in that year, the beetle having somehow crossed the North Sea from Holland. But at that stage, the problem had not reached epidemic proportions in this country, even if the disease had been known in Holland some years prior to 1927.

The beetles operate like this. At the end of summer, it lays its eggs beneath the bark of dead trees or logs. The youngsters then feed on the dead wood but pick up minute spores of a fungus called ceratocystis ulmi.

During the following spring, when they are fully grown, they burrow into living elms and carry that fungus with them. In that way, it is introduced into the healthy elm trees. Once under the bark, the fungus spreads very rapidly but in doing so, it produces a poison which begins to kill the tree. The tree fights back by producing anti-bodies but these block the arteries which carry the vital sap and nutrients - and so the tree dies from its own self-induced medicine.

When the disease struck in England with such dreadful results in 1967, it was realised that the only means of halting the disease was to fell the living elms, and although all manner of treatments, (many home-made such as pouring turpentine into the trees, or placing salt around their roots) were used in an attempt to kill the beetles, nothing succeeded. Suddenly, our traditional landscape was changed - one example was Barge Walk, near Hampton Court palace where 200 beautiful elms were

felled and although the problem was chiefly in the south of England, it did eventually spread to other areas, including the north.

Now, it seems, scientists have produced a genetically modified species of elm which appears to be resistant to Dutch elm disease, as well as to other types of fungal infection. Whether or not this will be completely successful remains to be determined, but it could mean the elm re-appears in our landscape and that its leafless outline will once again be prominent at this time of year.

My notes about villages who have produced millennium booklets resulted in the arrival of a superb example produced by Danby Wiske Local History Group (D&S, Nov 30).

Entitled The Millennium History of Danby Wiske with Yafforth, Lazenby and Hutton Bonville, it is a well-produced glossy publication running to more than 80 pages which are replete with interesting snippets of history, both ancient and modern.

There are lots of supportive illustrations too, ranging from line drawings to colour photographs by way of atmospheric black-and-white prints and even works by local artists.

It is a book into which one can dip time and time again to find some gem of history or snippet of gossip one has never previously encountered and it is one of the few local histories I have read which accurately reports the dreadful effect of the Reformation upon rural life. Another of its vital strengths is that it can be read and enjoyed by anyone not associated with any of the villages featured within its pages and there are some lighter touches which reveal a delightful sense of humour.

I liked the tale of Sidney Stevens, a butcher's boy who volunteered to join the army in 1914 and who received a letter from the vicar wishing him God's protection, with the advice "beware of strong beer and bad women". And during World War II, a road sign saying "London 240 miles" was removed so as not to assist German spies!

In dipping into these pages, one discovers that Danby Wiske had a grammar school in 1643, that Yafforth had a motte, a sort of timber castle which was demolished on the orders of Henry II, that the remains of a medieval village exist near Lazenby Hall and that a canal was proposed to run through this area.

I love the touches of local colour, like farmers who relied on their horses to take them home from market but when they drove without lights, they became a hazard to other road users. The police told them to display lights and one character, after a particularly good session in a pub, was hiccupping his way home courtesy of his horse and cart when he called at a house to borrow a lantern. Then he drove on, forgetting to light it!

A very nice touch is the finale when we are presented with some unsolved mysteries, among them being: where was Danby Wiske's windmill?

By any standards this is a superb book which manages to breathe vivid life into so many differing strands of local history and I congratulate all who were involved in its production.

It costs £10 (with £2.50 extra for postage) and can be obtained from its editor, Michael Sanders of The Manor House, Danby Wiske, Northallerton, DL7 OLZ (telephone 01609 777480).

A correspondent from Ryedale has referred to the disgusting habit of dumping large items of rubbish in the countryside, with particular reference to old refrigerators.

There are fears that this will increase as a direct result of a ruling from the European Commission. The ruling says that, with effect from January 1 this year, all ozone-depleting substances in household refrigerators must be removed for safe disposal.

This means that suppliers of new fridges will not take away the old ones, and that high charges by local authorities may result in householders dumping them. And there is the danger of children locking themselves in abandoned deep freezers