Category: North York Moors
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Heather’s Purple Dance with Golden Grass
Apart from the swathes of purple heather, there is another colour that resonates with me and epitomises the moors at this time of the year: the golden brown of grasses. These strands of gold flourish abundantly upon the ancient swiddens, gently swaying in the breeze and contrasting with the purple that’s nothing short of mesmerising.…
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“The Glorious Twelfth” — A Tradition Under Scrutiny
The moors were eerily silent this morning, a stark departure from the cacophony of gunfire that might be expected to reverberate across the heather today. Not a single report echoed in the air, just an eerie silence that draped the landscape like a shroud. Even the normally noisy grouse seem to sense an awareness of…
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From Barbados to Morrisons—The history of Thimbleby and its owners
The agricultural landscape of the Vale of Mowbray stretches across to the Dales , a view made visible through the recent felling of what was called ‘The Big Wood’ on the Thimbleby Estate. This shooting estate, its boundaries marked by imposing notices, guards its rights with a vigilance matched only by its size. There, off-centre,…
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Beneath Billowing Clouds: A Farmer’s Tale of Timing and Toil
In the rolling pasture that stretches down to the sprawling Dalby Forest, a farmer toils under a billowy sky. In this photograph, from near Low Pasture Farm, he is seizing a precious respite from the recent rain to harvest the bounty of his fields. In this delicate dance with nature, timing is everything. A mere…
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The carved stone of the Park Pale
Someone asked me to show them a carved stone on Warren Moor. Many years have slipped by since I last saw it, so I figured it’d be wise to retrace my steps and locate it again – can’t have my memory playing tricks on me. The stone didn’t put up much of a fight to…
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From beacons to buried treasure—Tales of Drake Howe
At the highest point of Cringle Moor’s flat summit is a Bronze Age round barrow named Drake Howe. A cairn overlooks the hollow left by Victorian antiquarians in this ancient monument. “Howe,” a term with a Scandinavian etymology, means a mound. But “Drake,” is that a name that carries a folk memory recalling the age-old…
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S by W and beyond — the view from Roseberry
Sundays are not my preferred days to climb Roseberry, as they tend to draw throngs of visitors, making the summit less quiet than I prefer. Nonetheless, this morning, helping the National Trust with their ‘Tea on the Topping’ event, I found myself on the summit, and briefly took in the view towards Cliff Rigg and…
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Captive-bred pheasants—Count down to the shooting season
In the world of shooting and the forthcoming hunting season, the hour has arrived for captive-bred pheasants to be released, ready for the grand start on the 1st October. However, in England, new restrictions are in place this year which require licences for the release of game-birds, including Red-legged Partridges, within a 500m radius of…
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And so the Ling season begins
It’s that Ling season. Suddenly, in spite of the damp weather over the last week, the heather blooms have emerged, although they haven’t reached their fullest splendour just yet. Expect more photos of the purple haze to come in the month ahead. Heather, in a wholly natural habitat, gives off a modest display compared to…
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Ernaldsti, never a RUPP
Ernaldsti, that medieval track associated with the Percy family crossing Hutton Moor, down Percy Rigg and over to Ralph Cross, via Westerdale. I suspect that the true line of this historical route over the moor lies concealed within the hollow-way, just a stone’s throw to the right of the modern track, and to the left…