T OMORROW, Saturday April 28, is the 240th anniversary of the death of Captain James Cook’s goat. Not many people know that. She died on that date in 1772 after circling the world on at least two occasions on board the famous Endeavour.

The nanny goat appears to have had an adventurous life. Her duty on board Cook’s ship Endeavour was to supply milk for the crew, the milk of goats being considered extremely nutritious and healthy. However, I have not come across any indication of what she ate while on her lengthy voyages.

The snag with goats is that they will eat almost anything. A few years ago, there was concern that charitable gifts of goats to alleviate poverty in some African countries were proving very expensive because they ate everything in sight. They became a problem because any attempt to grow crops with unfenced goats nearby is doomed to failure, although I am assured that camels are even more destructive.

I recall a few years ago that a man from a Yorkshire village decided to obtain a goat which he would keep on the village green. It seemed a good idea because she would crop the grass on the green in addition to the long grass outside her owner’s home. The parish council seemed very enthusiastic about this proposal, although there were some concerns about the grazing rights on the village green.

Such a snag developed because this goat did not restrict its eating habits to the grass – it developed a taste for the trees and flowers upon the green, and also found that chewing the paintwork of parked cars was quite delicious. There was something of a rumpus and threats of prosecuting the goat’s owner for unlawful grazing.

Not surprisingly, he removed his goat from the green and kept it in a barn on his farm and so peace was restored without any court action.

It is such stories than made me wonder about the diet of Captain Cook’s goat on board Endeavour. I have no doubt there would be a stock of suitable food, but equally, I am sure that any trips ashore by the goat would result in an intake of delicious new flavours from exotic fruits, leaves and flowers. Clearly, that famous goat did not starve.

There is a report that during the nanny’s expeditions, she was stolen on one occasion but was safely recovered. Like people, however, goats grow old and, although Captain Cook lost 81 men during his expeditions, the goat survived. However, she became ill on a voyage around Cape Horn and such was her standing and reputation as a sailor that she was admitted as a pensioner to Greenwich Hospital, the home for ill and retired sailors. She was given a silver collar bearing an inscription by Dr Samuel Johnson, but sadly died on April 28, 1772.

I don’t think any of the records have revealed her name.

On the topic of Captain Cook, widely remembered in this region due to his links with Marton in Cleveland, Great Ayton and Staithes, I formerly owned a book about his adventures. It was a handsome volume written by his wife. An author who was an authority on Captain Cook asked if she could borrow it to undertake some research and so I loaned it to her – but never saw it again. When she died, I asked her executors to ascertain whether my book was packed ready to be sent to the auction rooms or a second-hand dealer, but there was no trace of it.

However, in her book, Mrs Cook suggested that Captain Cook was not born at Marton, as history suggests. Indeed, my Arthur Mee’s account of the North Riding of Yorkshire suggests he was born at Martin in Cleveland.

So far as I know, that village has never existed. However, Mrs Cook’s book stated he was born at a hamlet called Morton, which was near Marton and which was apparently shown on some older Ordnance Survey maps. My own maps and other sources have failed to confirm that Morton existed near Marton, but if James Cook was born in that hamlet in 1728, it will have long since vanished under the urban spread of Middlesbrough. Unless there are streets or locations bearing the name Morton instead of Marton?

Next Tuesday is May Day which has enjoyed centuries of festivities along with maypole dancing and other frolics on village greens.

There is no doubt the maypole has enjoyed something of a revival in recent times, despite 17th century Puritanical attempts to abolish the custom. They regarded maypole dancing as something we had inherited from the pagans; certainly, the practice had ancient origins and at one stage the celebrations became riotous and noted for heavy drinking and boisterous activities known as “Going A-Maying”.

In ancient times, the maypole honoured the colourful and newly-flowering trees in the month of May, but it was also a fertility symbol. Some maypole rites are thought to date to Celtic times when the pole was the symbol of a fertility goddess, with the colourful ceremonies being held in her honour.

Even into modern times, a maypole queen was appointed in each village that sported a maypole and it was her duty to lead the merrymaking and dancing. With children dressed as red-cloaked royal attendants sitting around the foot of the pole, and with her hair newly-garlanded with pink and white blossom, she led the children into the familiar dances with multicoloured ribbons that were wound around the pole during the dance routines. A maypole queen is not necessarily a May queen.

The precise date for the maypole ceremonies has often been rather fluid. While, by tradition, they should be held on May 1, they were often celebrated on other nearby dates due to the poor weather that sometimes afflicted early May. Our secular holidays and the changes brought about by the Gregorian calendar have all resulted in maypole ceremonies being held at other times, albeit mainly during the month of May.

There is no doubt that the May celebrations have often been under attack, sometimes by religious extremists such as the English Puritans. However, it seems the custom began about 500 years before Christ was born, but in AD 772, the Emperor Charlemagne ordered the destruction of maypoles. He was the first Holy Roman Emperor, sometimes known as Charles the Great because he was 8ft tall (2.4m). It was claimed he was so strong that he could bend three horseshoes together with his bare hands.

It seems that the excesses of drink and violence that became part of the maypole celebrations caused him to outlaw them in Europe. Here in England many years later, the Puritans attempted to do likewise. One of them, a writer named Stubbs, referred to the poles as stinking idols and in 1644, Oliver Cromwell ordered that all should be destroyed.

At Sinnington in Ryedale in 1701, a band of Puritans tried to halt the maypole celebrations, but the Sinnington lads joined hands and formed a circle around the pole to ward off the wreckers, while at nearby Slingsby, there was a “great dordum of a fight” during which the Puritans were beaten off.

I think the final word should go to a Quaker writer called Howitt, who believed it was stupid to prevent all forms of enjoyment.

He wrote: “God never intended that all the loveliness of May should be left to the birds on the bough and the beasts in the field. Shall not the time come again when this is a holiday for all, and that there be a dance on the village green and in the heart of every poor person at the festival of youth and nature – the poetical May Day.”