OUR neighbours have a cherry tree which, in some years, is laden with juicy red fruit. Because it is near our conservatory, we can freely observe the activities of various birds as they take advantage of the tempting offerings. There is no doubt they consume far more cherries than the owners of the tree.

This year the birds did not wait for the fruit to ripen.

They tackled the cherries whilst they were still green and managed to clear a lot in a surprisingly short time.

Perhaps the hot weather was responsible – the berries would have provided much-needed sustenance.

Prominent among the cherry- pickers were several blackbirds, young and old, but as I watched one evening, I was delighted to see a blackcap picking his way among the foliage.

Some people refer to the great tit as a blackcap, a name often mistakenly given also to marsh tits and willow tits, all of whom sport a neat black beret on their heads.

The real blackcap is a member of the warbler family who comes to spend the summer in this country. This tiny bird – less than six inches long (14cm) – travels all the way from tropical Africa.

The male is instantly recognisable with his neat black cap, his other plumage being dark grey on his back and wings with paler underparts.

His mate, however, sports a neat brownish-red cap and it is these adornments which immediately identify these birds from other members of the warbler family.

I doubt if our blackcap was seeking cherries. Their food usually consists of caterpillars and insects, which they find by searching among the leaves of trees, shrubs and undergrowth.

As they are shy birds, I felt privileged to catch sight of this one. Although they winter in Africa (except for a few that might spend winter in the south-west of England), they do nest in this country which means, of course, the youngsters must learn to fly in time for their trip to those warmer climes in late August or early September.

Like so many other small birds, they were remarkably hardy.

Also prominent among the cherry tree raiders was a pair of carrion crows. Easily distinguished from rooks by their huge black beaks and black feathers that cover the entire face, these pirates descended on the cherry tree and promptly began to devour all the berries within reach. This was not as easy as they wished because some berries were on the tips of the twigs which meant they bent beneath the crows’ weight and pushed the berries out of reach.

But they persevered. I was intrigued to see a crow pick an entire cherry instead of just pecking a portion of it, but then it pondered upon how to deal with its prize.

The cherry was gripped by the tip of the crow’s beak, but the enterprising bird placed the cherry on a strong branch and then put its foot on top of it. In this way, the fruit was firmly held as the crow pecked at it, piece by piece. Carrion crows will eat almost anything, ranging from carrion to live creatures by way of grain and roots. Now I know they like cherries.

WHEN a friend from the North York Moors commented that his bird feeders were being visited by stoggies, I knew what he meant. The same character would probably have added that spuggies were regular callers too, then with a bit of luck he might have noticed a French linney and a cuddy.

These are a few North Riding dialect terms for birds – stoggies are wood pigeons, spuggies are house-sparrows, French linney is an old name for a brambling whilst a hedge sparrow, otherwise known as dunnock or hedge accentor, is a cuddy.

The words linney and spink were widely used to indicate birds within the finch family.

A green linney, for example, is a greenfinch and a white linney is a chaffinch, once known as a bull-spink. I’ve often wondered whether this should refer to the bullfinch because a cherry-spink is a hawfinch and a gold-spink is a goldfinch.

Many dialect names for birds are neglected, but around my home village in the North York Moors an interesting selection remains in use by some older residents.

Moor birds, pronounced moor bods, is a common name for red grouse, nanpie or langtailed nan refers to the magpie and peckatree refers to all woodpeckers, with yaffle being used for a green woodpecker.

With several alternative names, the beautiful green plover can still be seen, albeit in reduced numbers, in open fields and moorland.

Certainly in my youth this delightful bird was plentiful, easily identified by its slender crest, black and white markings, orange patch beneath its tail and dark glossy green upper plumage. In some areas it is known as the lapwing, but our local name was peewit. This represents its cry, but in dialect its name was often teeafit, tuefit or tewit.

Hullots and yullots indicated owls of some kind. For example, a long-horned yullot meant a long-eared owl whilst the more widely known tawny owl was a jinny-yullot. A barn owl was a screech-yullot although it was often known simply as an ullot or yowlet. In some parts of the Moors, particularly the Cleveland Hills, it was called a chech-ullot, meaning a church owl. This was due to its habit of roosting in church towers.

The wagtail family were known as willy-wagtails with the yellow wagtail being a yalla-willy-wagtail and the pied wagtail often being referred to as a whitewilly- wagtail or a whitewatter- waggy. Friendly names were given to some birds, such as tom-tit for the great tit, billy blue cap for the blue tit and dicky-devlin for the swift. Blackbirds were known simply as blackies, thrushes were throstles and the mistle thrush was jeremy-joy.

Crows and rooks were collectively known as crukes.

The rook, with a white patch at the base of its beak, was called a white-nebbed cruke whilst a black-nebbed cruke meant carrion crow.

Not surprisingly, a scarecrow was a flaycruke – flay means to scare. After all, scarecrows are really intended to frighten rooks, not crows, so that old name is probably the most apt.

And finally, to continue the theme of birds, there is an old weather saying that goes: “When summer birds take their flight, summer goes with them.” This is obviously referring to migrants.

Another old piece of lore says that when the birds are silent, we can expect a thunder storm, whilst if birds are restless without leaving their usual haunts, we can expect wind. If they return slowly to their nests, rain may follow, and this is also the case when small birds dust themselves in sand or dry soil.

Domestic poultry are also said to be good at forecasting weather. If they huddle together outside the henhouse instead of going inside to roost, rain is expected and it is also expected if the cockerel crows later and earlier than usual whilst clapping his wings.

An old saying tells us: If the cockerel goes acrowing to his bed, He’ll certainly rise with a watery head.