Countryman's Diary; Green thoughts on the native beech

Then on May 1, I saw my first swallows, a pair of them flying above our garden as I checked the proof of a book out of doors in warm and brilliant sunshine. They circled above me for a few minutes before leaving, and the following day I spotted three swallows flying around some nearby farm buildings. I think two of them were those I'd spotted the previous day; there were no more around at the time.

Swallows are regarded as bringers of good fortune, and years ago it was thought they were capable of finding a special pebble on the beach, possession of which would help restore the sight of blind people. It was also thought that if you placed the pebble under your tongue, it would enrich you with wonderful eloquence. The snag was that you had to catch a young swallow and deliberately damage its eyes; this would compel its parents to seek the precious stone and they would lead you to it.

With the coming of spring, and the fact that today I become an old age pensioner, these two modest experiences made me realise how fortunate I am to still have my health, strength, a loving family and a contented but busy lifestyle.

Woodland delight

One of my childhood delights was to explore and play in an extensive stretch of woodland near my home. A substantial part of it comprised massive beech trees, giants among those which surrounded them and dominant with their smooth grey trunks and broad canopies of dense, dark green foliage. Some of those beeches clung to rocky outcrops where their thick and powerful roots had formed caves and hollows among the stones to provide wonderful places for a very young lad to explore and to stimulate my youthful imagination. I wondered what lay in those deep holes? Animals and nesting birds perhaps, or even something more mysterious?

In other parts of the wood there were wide, flat areas with more beeches standing like giant sentinels as the sun filtered through their leaves. The silver-grey of their huge trunks was in direct contrast to the colours of the ground, for inevitably the floor of the woodland at this point was covered with a thick layer of fallen beech leaves.

They were copper coloured and crisp, and you could run or walk through them, kicking them away in clouds to settle a few feet away. Although these did eventually enrich the earth they were slow to decompose and in the meantime acted as a mulch to prevent the growth of other plans.

In my childhood, therefore, I was experiencing something of the magic of a beechwood, a thrill which, down the years, has inspired poets and artists to try and capture something of that mystery.

There is little doubt that the beech tree is rather special and it is not surprising it has earned the name "Mother of Forests" - indeed some experts suggest that without the beech, there would be no coniferous woodlands in this country. It is a kind of nursemaid to other species.

So domineering is the beech that its mere presence can prevent other trees from growing - without successful woodland management, less powerful species will not flourish and in time, the beech will be the only survivor. It is for this reason that there are huge forests of beech trees, often growing on chalky soil in Hampshire, Dorset, Kent, Surrey and across the South Downs of Sussex,

Furthermore, the beech loves warm climates and for that reason, it had to be introduced by horticulturalists to the cooler North of England where it has managed to thrive in some areas.

The drip which falls from the leaves is said to destroy many weeds which would otherwise exhaust the goodness of the earth beneath, while the dense canopy of the beech provides shelter from the sun and protects that same soil from drying out too quickly. Added to these benefits is that fact that the annual fall of beech leaves provides a protective carpet, up to several inches deep, which eventually rots to enrich the soil, aided by the variety of creatures which live beneath that covering of leaves.

Around this time of year, the beech produces its blossom, the male flowers being purple-brown catkin-like tassels with yellow pollen-covered anthers while the females, on the same tree, are small, green and shaped like buds known as cupules. In the summer, these harden into green husks with soft spines, and when they mature in the autumn, they split open to reveal small triangular-shaped nuts. These are known as beech mast, once a very important source of food for pigs which roamed freely in beech woods. Today, they remain important as a food supply for squirrels, mice, badgers and even deer, as well as a variety of birds like jays, wood pigeons, pheasants and smaller ones like finches and great tits.

Seedlings will sprout from the surviving pieces of beech mast and in time will mature into a handsome tree which can rise to more than 140ft - well over 40 metres tall. In its maturity it will have at least one very stout trunk, though some will divide into two or three, each bearing immense branches. If a beech grows on a sloping bankside or among boulders, its roots will reach out to provide strong supports, like extensions of its trunk, and a healthy beech can survive for more than 200 years.

It is native to this country and the name comes from the Old English bece which had been adopted to form the basis of some place-names, Buckinghamshire perhaps being the best example. Down the centuries, its wood has always been popular with furniture manufacturers, chair-makers especially, and it was the presence of local beechwoods which led to the creation of the famous Chiltern chairs and furniture. The wood is free from knots and reveals a very fine grain which can be polished into a beautiful finish.

Outside the house, the beech is equally popular for it can produce a handsome and useful hedge. in this case, the trees need to be kept trimmed so that they produce a short thick growth heavy with leaves, ideal as both a garden boundary and a secure place for birds to nest and roost.

In the village of Meiklour in Scotland, there is a famous beech hedge which is about 100 feet (30m) tall and 600 yards (550m) long. It was planted in 1745, but when its keepers heard that Bonny Prince Charlie had landed in Inverness-shire, they rushed off to see him and forgot to return to trim the hedge. I'm told it has never been trimmed since that time.

Limber Hill

Following my notes about the origins of the name of Limber Hill at Glaisdale, a Cleveland correspondent has written to say there is also a Limber Hill near Jerusalem. It is part of the famous Mount of Olives and home to a British War Graves Cemetery. My correspondent has contacted the British War Graves Commission in an attempt to ascertain how or why that hill should bear this name, but to date no information has been received.

My Encyclopedia of Biblical Literature provides a note of the Mount of Olives but there is no reference to Limber Hill. It is to the east of Jerusalem, separated from it by the narrow valley of Jehosaphat, close to which is a lower ridge known as the Well of Nehemiah. My references refer to another unnamed summit from which it is possible to gain a view of the Dead Sea and Jerusalem.

Political pups

And finally, a joke! Prime Minister Blair was driving through Yorkshire when he spotted a farm sign advertising ten labrador pups for sale. Wanting a dog for his family at No 10, he asked the farmer to show him the pups. "They're New Labour dogs," beamed the farmer. "I'd better have one," said Mr Blair, adding, "I can't take it now, I'll call again when I'm up here on private business."

A few weeks later, Mr Blair returned but there were just two pups left. "They're both good ones," the owner assured him. "You can take your choice, but you'll see these are both Conservative pups."

"I thought you said they were New Labour!" replied Mr Blair.

"Aye, they were, but now they've got their eyes open," smiled the farmer.