Many of the ancient and vetran trees in Sherwood, survived because they were status symbols, the great estates of the Dukeries did not need money from timber. Timber extraction in Sherwood was sometimes selective, though woodland economy included more than just the great oaks. Birch twigs made flexible, sprung packing for cast iron pipes & were sold to furnaces in South Yorkshire for this purpose. Much straight church timber used in Lincolnshire & the East Midland area was shipped in via the port at Boston. Timber for strong elbows & joints came from the conveniently shaped stags heads in Sherwood. Import of oak timbers via Lincolnshire was famous & used at at Ely and York cathedrals. English merchants are recorded as visiting and trading at the southern Baltic ports of Elbing (now Elbląg, Poland), Danzig (Gdansk, Poland) and Stralsund (Germany) as early as 1350. By the 15th century Danzig was one of the most important ports exporting timber to England, via Lincolnshire. As Sherwood was less often used for straight beams in building or shipbuilding but for joints of great strength, extraction could be selective. The Forest of Dean specialised in straight beam oaks but mostly for shipbuilding with little left over for building. Boston was arguably the most important guild in England at the time. Thomas Cromwell worked for the Boston Guild to the mutual advantage of both. Below: Veteran oak in Birklands, Sherwood Forest National Nature Reserve.
“The Old Grey Mare is Best” gives a true Nottinghamshire perspective on the Robin Hood story. Folk historians believe that “The Old Grey Mare is Best” is a very ancient tale that has been embellished down the centuries. It ties in with Robin as the Hooden or Hodden Horse, Norse niding and Epona & Rhiannon traditions:
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, when beans were as big as a man’s fist, apple pies grew on trees and socks never smelled. There lived an old squire, in a village in Nottinghamshire. Now the Old Squire’s youngest son, knowing all would go to his older brother, left to seek his fortune elsewhere. But the older son died before the Squire. The Squire then up and died of a broken heart. The bailiff was sent to find the younger son and bring him home. But where to find him, where did he fly? Some folk said he had gone to the wild jungle; some folk said he had gone to the hot desert lands.
When the bailiff had gone away, an old “Twister” from Yorkshire came to the village. He had a letter and claimed that it said that the old squire had left everything to the “Twister”. Now the old parson was blind and could not read the letter and none of the village folk, in those days, could read or write. The next day, the “Twister” came back with his men and a cart and shouted “whoa!” as they entered the village. They loaded the cart, took everything, stripped the village bare. They took: the team of oxen – clem, tom, prince and gem, the big black cart horse – vi’let, the goat-moll, the milking stool, the candle sticks, the good red apples, the firkins of beer, the pancheons and balm pots and pipkins, they cut and stoked the standing corn on that wagon, they took the cabbages from the gardens, they even took the next days eggs! The village folk despaired and cried: “pity us poor folk, out in the mire, leave us a stick to put on the fire”. But the “Twister pitied not”.
Two strangers came into the village, in hooded cloaks. Some folk said they were Robin Hood and Little John. They had a plan to help the folk and whispered it, at the back of the crowd gathered round the “Twister’s” cart. One man piped up – “Twister, you've taken most but left the best The Old Grey Mare is best. She will go to market, she will go, she willing goes – and back by herself; she pulls the water from the well, she will – to the well herself; she carries butter on her head – oh yes; she even up and walks on her two back legs”.
“This I must see”, the “Twister” said. “Look at the head land, where the plough turns”, the folk said. And there was a grey-haired farmer’s wife, prancing in the furrows, digging her toes in, drawing a perfect bout, with a woman at the reins and plough line of an old broken sling harness that the “Twister” had rejected, shouting “Gee-up”. The wife had become a horse transformed – but not a nag of course! She tossed her grey haired head to ring the lead bell and make the peewits fly up and the hare run into the gorse and follow; she larked and made a fool of the “Twister”. The folk said, “There she goes, our old Grey Mare is the best and you are a fool”. The “Twister” was angry and thrown into confusion before he could make off with his loot.
Just then into the village rode the bailiff, triumphantly, with the young son, the new squire, dressed in finery: lace collar and cuffs, high boots and shining buttons, and upon a beautiful horse. The village folk gave a great cheer, much rejoicing followed.
When the folk remembered the “Twister”, he had fled with his men, leaving behind the wagon of goods. The folk turned to toast Robin Hood and Little John with a plum and a cherry and all things merry and a jug of beer just for good cheer, but Robin Hood and Little John had gone too. But they had saved the day with the timely prank. The Old Grey Mare had done a good job with an ood and a hod and that’s the story. Professor Ronald Hutton states: "it is... absolutely correct that some British folk customs have descended directly from pagan rituals."
Our Tripple Helix partnership has produced heritage resources on British folk customs and ceremonies, including a four pack, covering The Winter Solstice, The Summer Solstice, The Vernal Equinox and The Autumn Equinox.
So the folk-lore of the land can arise from its physical qualities & its creatures. Here is an example of a bird whose life style (like that of the owls) has given rise to many myths. Even the name of the Nightjar is a myth. Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher, thought that the bird stole milk from the udders of goats, causing the goats to go blind. This gives the Nightjar the scientific name, Caprimulgus from “Capra” nanny goat and “mulgus” milk, giving rise to “goatsucker”. This untruth is part responsible for this nocturnal bird’s vampire associations. The chicks, theory goes, hatch at full moon. But certainly the wide, whisker-mouthed parent birds can better feed them by catching heathland and woodland insects in the dusky moonlight. The nests are of twigs and leaves on the ground. Parents can move eggs and chicks if the site is threatened. The birds are well camouflaged, tawny in colour & rarely seen. They have external ears – as only nocturnal birds have & make a “churring” sound in the gloaming often as they fly, disorientating the listener.
Because the bird is active at a time associated in folklore with fairy activity, it is not surprising that the Nightjar enters fairy lore. They are associated with Puck. “Nightjar” is a nickname for the biblical Lilith: “….there for the Nightjar shall rest and find herself a place for repose.” Isaiah 34:14. Lilith was Adam’s first wife, they were created from dust. Lilith (a feminist) thought herself equal to Adam, so left him, only to be punished by God & become a fabled shadowy figure, like the bird. Nightjars prefer to nest on the floor of heathland, fringed by trees, they hunt the tree line for insects to take back to the nest.
The cousins of the UK Nightjars, America’s Whipoornils were said by the Native Americans to hibernate. Scientists find some truth in the myth & it is the only bird to exhibit such behavior. Native Americans thought the Whipoornils were made from human brains and that the birds call was questioning. They for-told death by answering “no” to the bird; if it stopped calling, a person would die, if it continued, the person lived. Hence the Whipoornil is called “corpse bird” and “corpse fowl”, reflecting the myth and reflecting its dusk habits, seen as reflecting movement between day-time and night-time, life and death. “Satanic Nightjar” is a name given to Heinrich’s Nightjar – stories relating to it are too gruesome to tell. In South Vietnam the Nightjar is called the Blacksmith bird and wonderful smith-craft skills are given to anyone dreaming of a Nightjar.
The RSPB have published maps charting the decline of Golden & Sea Eagles since AD 500. Arnold is little town on the west edge of the southern Nottinghamshire dumbles. "Arnold" means valley of the eagles...it must have been a great sight to see Eagles flying above Arnold from Dorket Head. Dorket Head means the gate to the valley! Know any one called Arnold?
