Richard Bell's nature sketchbook since 1998
Teddy is a puggle – a cross between a pug and a beagle – which, according to his minder (his owners are away on holiday), means that he always looks slightly bad tempered. On the contrary, he keeps his cool when a passing border collie challenges him with a barrage of barking, looking the over excited passer by as he was thinking just what is the matter with you.
At Wakefield Naturalists’ Society’s first annual dinner, Tuesday, 17 February 1874, at the Strafford Arms, overlooking the Bull Ring, vice-president Mr G. Porrit, F.L.S., was called on to propose a toast:
I am gratified at having to propose “Success to the Wakefield Naturalists’ Society.” I feel certain that all visitors and others in this room wish the president and officers of this society every success and prosperity (hear, hear). Whatever they do they do it well, and so long as they can keep their respected president with them there need be no fear so far as the success of the society is concerned (hear, hear). I have much pleasure in proposing “Success to the Naturalist Society,” and am sorry I cannot remain longer with you, as the train for Huddersfield is already due. Before I go, however, allow me to couple with the toast the name of the president, Alderman Wainwright.
The toast was drunk amid loud applause
The Wakefield Free Press, 21 February 1874. British Library Board, all rights reserved.
What could possibly go wrong?
In 1862, on Monday and Tuesday, 2nd and 3rd June, the Society staged an exhibition at the Music Salon to raise funds for the formation of a library for the Society.
‘The Exhibition will consist of several thousands of objects in Natural History, comprising choice specimens in Ornithology, Entomology, Conchology, Botany, Mineralogy, Geology. The greater part of the objects have been taken within six miles of Wakefield.’
But an exhibition staged by the Society in the 1880s proved over ambitious. Here’s a reaction from a former member of the Society who thought that he could do a better job himself:
In the interests of science I hope you will allow me to explain the reason for the failure of the Wakefield Naturalists’ Society, which the annual report in the papers say is beyond explanation . . . The late Exhibition met with only half-hearted sympathy from some of the members. Since the Council Chamber [Wakefield’s old Town Hall in Crown Court off Wood Street] was rented there has not been a single lecture or essay – in fact not one meeting of the members has been advertised in any way . . . Are not these facts a sufficient reason to account for the large proportion of the members withdrawing their names. Then dog in the manger like when they will not go forward with the proposed Museum, and I set to work to do what they say they have abandoned for the time being (having packed away their specimens at a public house) . . . What is the use of ten members at the annual meeting keeping in existence only the name of an association.’
G. H. Crowther, letter to the editor, Wakefield Free Press 29 September 1883
But four years later the Society was back on its feet again.
Remember those specimens ‘packed away in a public house’?
WAKEFIELD NATURALISTS’ SOCIETY
THE SEVENTEENTH ANNUAL SESSION of this Society was opened with an EXHIBITION of NATURAL HISTORY OBJECTS, in the SOCIETY’S ROOMS, SAW HOTEL on Wednesday, October 5th, 1887.
The Exhibition will remain open TO-DAY from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., and also on MONDAY, TUESDAY, and WEDNESDAY next, from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m.
The Public are invited. Admission Free.
WILLIAM RUSHFORTH
Honorary Secretary
Wakefield Free Press 08 October 1887
The Saw Hotel was on Westgate.
The good news is that the Wakefield Naturalists are still active today, with the next outdoor meeting a week on Sunday at Adel Nature Reserve: ‘super reserve for dragonflies and flowers which was closed throughout lockdown’.
It might be time to propose another toast . . .
Wakefield Naturalists’ Society
The British Newspaper Archive provided jointly by the British Library and Findmypast. You can access the archive – and Findmypast – for free if you’re a member of Wakefield Libraries.
I’ve been reformatting my Waterton’s Park booklet and this detail of three figures is the final illustration. Could this be a photograph of the camera-shy Waterton? Taken around 1860, it may show his Charles Waterton’s son Edmund on the left, one of Waterton’s sisters in law, (so a Miss Edmondstone) and Waterton himself.
But looking at it again, it does look more like Waterton’s friend Dr Hobson, who had a series of photographs taken of Walton Park at the time. There’s the cane, as in the Hobson photograph, the top hat and light-coloured trousers and there’s even a hint of those Victorian whiskers around his face.
Hobson himself says that this back view of Waterton was the nearest that he came to capturing Waterton on camera.
While digging the foundations for a garden room extension at the back of Smeath House, Horbury, last week builders came across this brick-lined cavity.
These two massive Yorkstone slabs covered the hole.
It was completely dry and hadn’t ever been filled in, so there was no dating evidence, other than the structure itself. As far as I could see the bricks had no maker’s name stamped on them.
Two lead pipes extended up from the base of the cistern towards the house. You can see that a few loose bricks have been placed around the open end of the pipes, perhaps either to keep them in place or to trap any sediment that might find its way into the cistern.
There were two inlet pipes close to the top of the cistern. One came from the direction of the house and would have channelled rainwater from the roof and the other presumably fed in rainwater from outbuildings which have since been demolished.
There was a small amount of mortar between the bricks, which had fairly shallow frogs. It’s not all that obvious in the photographs but the hole tapers in gradually towards the top.
When my mum and dad bought Smeath House in the 1950s the Victorian extension to the original house (above, the window and door on the right) housed what we called the wash house. It was stone-flagged inside with a large enamel sink below the window which is now in use as a plant trough at Spinkwell House next door. We used the large Victorian mangle for years, until woodworm got into the wooden rollers.
There was a cylindrical galvanised boiler which my dad later used as water butt sunk into one of the beds of his greenhouse.
The Victorians used rainwater was used for laundry as it was softer than water from the well. A well which might have served both houses gave its name to Spinkwell and is still there, covered over, at the corner of an ivy-covered rockery.
My mum was resident at Smeath House for about 60 years but during that time we never suspected that there was a cavity under the back yard. The back yard was probably concreted over in the late 1940s or early 1950s when the house was converted into two flats.
The foundation trench for the garden room has exposed the foundations of the ‘wash house’ extension. l’m not sure if that the sandstone is bedrock or a massive flagstone.
Barbara and I got a chance to see the structure yesterday as they started to fill it in. It looks as if it is approximately half-filled here.
Very roughly, I’d guess we’re looking at a storage capacity of a cylinder 6ft across and 6ft high, which would hold about 170 cubic feet of water, over 1000 gallons, nearly 5 cubic metres (my thanks to Harvey who pointed out that my original calculation was way out because I’d confused radius with diameter).
In 1979, a very similar structure was found less that 100 yards to the north west of the Smeath House water cistern at the back of one of the houses on Mortimer Row.
When Gillian Simpson posted this article on the Horbury and Sitlington History Group Facebook Page, Bob Durham recalled:
We found all sorts of things in that ‘well’. Old childrens lace up shoes, bottles, cups and saucers. Metal work files. It wasn’t round tho! It was more egg shaped and the red smooth faced brickwork was so tightly. It was a pity to fill it in.
Bob Durham
As the article mentions one of the items was a cup, dated 1911, belonging to Horbury Urban District Council, unfortunately there was no similar dating evidence in the Smeath House water cistern.
It looks as if it’s going to be our best year yet for our cordon apples, especially the Howgate Wonder which I recently had to tie in because of the weight of fruit and leafy growth. Summer pruning seems to suit them best, encouraging fruiting spurs to form.
In May 1834 Charles Waterton had himself lowered by rope down the cliffs at Flamborough by two local egg-gatherers:
‘The sea was roaring at the base of this stupendous wall of rocks; thousands and tens of thousands of wild fowl were in an instant on the wing: the kittiwakes and jackdaws rose in circling flight; while most of the guillemots, razorbills, and puffins, left the ledges of the rocks, in a straight and downward line, with a peculiarly quick motion of the pinions, till they plunged into the ocean.’
Charles Waterton, ‘Essays on Natural History’ (1835-1857)
My version of this scene was based on this Victorian engraving, artist uncredited except for the initials in the bottom left hand corner, which could be those of the engraver.
by the Rambler, The Free Press, Saturday, July 28, 1888
I came across this evocative essay while searching for articles about a mass trespass in Coxley Valley (complete with Brass Band: they did things in style in 1888!):
I am one of those quaint individuals – and there are a few in Horbury yet – who seldom ever leave my picturesque residence on a quiet Sabbath to visit that popular resort, Coxley Valley. Sunday last was an exception to the rule, for just as I and my wife had finished our frugal meal at dinner time, I filled up my pipe, bent upon having a quiet hour, when all on a sudden my intention in this respect was frustrated by the sound of a beating drum and a tremendous burst of music reaching my ears from twenty brass instruments.
For the moment I was thunderstruck, but, recovering my senses, I rushed out of the room into the roadway, only to find a lot more gazeful individuals running out of their humble cottages bare-headed.
Naturally I became as inquisitive as the majority of bystanders to know the cause of such a commotion on the sacred Sabbath. True, I was not long in gaining the required information, and what do you think it was? Why the Brighouse Temperance Brass Band had come out that afternoon to remind us that they were going to give a sacred musical concert in Coxley Valley, not for the benefit of our noble and valuable institution at Wakefield (the Clayton Hospital), but in aid of their band fund.
With this “gentle reminder,” a very large number dressed in their favourite Sunday “togs” wended their way to the favourite spot; many went, too, because it is their custom in the summer months so to do.
I, of course, thought of a letter and its contents I had in my possession, which came from the neighbourhood of Westgate [the ‘Free Press’ office in Wakefield], and conscious of the fact that I had a duty to perform, like the rest of the curious ones, I, too, resolved to spend the afternoon at Coxley Valley.
After a pleasant half hour’s walk, with eyes wide open, and ears not closed to several compliments paid that some Horbury “Ramblers” would be there, I arrived at this much talked of “beautiful and charming resort” with senses refreshed by the newly-made hay and the various wild flowers that send forth their perfume from the woods up the slope.
A turn of the road soon brought me in sight of “Belmont Shanty” as it is called, and as I read a bill on the boards my spirits began to revive. Here is a copy of it:
“This way to Belmont Gardens.”
To be continued . . .
I painted this watercolour of Walton Hall, the Water Gate and the Iron Bridge in July 2004 as an illustration for the cover of a menu for the restaurant in the Waterton Park Hotel.
I’m currently transferring my Waterton’s Park booklet from the original Microsoft Publisher version to a new Adobe InDesign version on my iMac.
The content will be the same but I’m taking the opportunity to make a few tweaks to the design. I’m sticking to one versatile typeface, Adobe Caslon Pro. It’s got a slightly more spiky and crisper look that Dolly Pro which was my previous favourite typeface for booklets. I like Caslon’s semi-bold italic for the headings in place of the Viners Hand that I used in the original.
I felt that the quiver of blowpipe arrows would sit better in the bottom righthand corner, where it’s right next to the appropriate paragraph, so Waterton capturing the cayman gets pride of place at the top of the page.
The George Gissing Centre, in Thompson’s Yard off the top of Westgate, opened its doors for yesterday’s Wakefield Art Walk. This was Victorian novelist George Gissing’s childhood home. His father, Thomas Gissing was a pharmacist who wrote Ferns and Fern Allies of Wakefield.
There’s currently an exhibition of Wakefield authors at the centre in the form of a timeline, starting with ‘the Wakefield Master’, author of the town’s Medieval Mystery Plays and finishing up with Joanne Harris, Lisa Bradley and I, so I’m in good company.
The Gissing Trust on the Wakefield Historical Society website
Black-headed gull feathers from St Aidan’s and a seabird feather of some kind -possibly a kittiwake or a juvenile gannet? – from Bempton. Freshwater snail shell from St Aidan’s.