THE remarkably mild weeks of December and early January have apparently created some disorientation among our wildlife. I’ve received reports of daffodils blooming weeks earlier than usual while in several places snowdrops have appeared both in the wild and in our gardens. One interesting sighting was a ladybird in Darlington which was reported in The Times (Jan 16) while mallards have produced ducklings in the South-East, despite the awful weather and flooding.

Perhaps the most intriguing is the reported arrival of nine swallows in the south of England. Bearing in mind these birds are summer visitors to these islands, their presence is in the region of eight weeks ahead of their usual time. Generally, we begin looking for them in the South sometime during March, and it might be a further week or two before they can be expected in these northerly regions.

Bearing in mind they depend heavily upon flying insects for their food, it would seem that flies and other insects are also airborne in some areas at this early stage of the year but my query is: how do these birds know that our climate can accommodate them at this time of year? Usually they are hundreds of miles away when something tells them to head for our islands. If we wish to know what the weather is like in Africa, Spain or elsewhere, we can easily find out either from tour operators or computer forecasts, but swallows have none of those facilities. So how did those nine know our winter weather was mild enough to accommodate them on this particular occasion?

In addition to these unusual aspects of this winter, there are also reports of rooks and collared doves nesting even in Scotland, with thrushes in full song in various parts of the country, trees flowering or producing buds at various locations and even butterflies making an appearance.

It is claimed by some experts that spring is regularly making earlier appearances which does suggest climate change, but problems arise if the weather turns colder and more harsh, perhaps with snow and severe frosts.

As I write these notes, that remains a possibility. Newborn animals, hibernating creatures, recently hatched birds along with budding trees and plants will suffer, and so will birds that have arrived too early.

Let us hope they can all cope – us too!

MY RECENT visit to Middleham included a tour of the fascinating old church of St Mary and St Alkelda. This is one of only two churches in England which are dedicated to St Alkelda, the other also being in the Yorkshire Dales in Giggleswick. In both cases, there is a nearby well associated with St Alkelda. The Middleham church is said to date to the 14th century while the one in Giggleswick is from the 15th century, both therefore having Catholic origins.

However, the fact that Alkelda is their patron saint does raise some interesting questions, the chief one being – did she truly exist? Or are the nearby wells somehow connected with that name?

I have several lists of saints that do not include the name of Alkelda, although one volume, described by its authors as a slightly irreverent and fun book of saints, does include her name even if it tells us that Gigglewick is “a quaint English village in the Midlands”.

Another factor is the age of both churches. Long before the canonisation process was instituted people dedicated to the work of their church were known as saints, and the names of martyr and saint also meant the same thing. However, it was possible for a person to become a saint without being martyred. St Athanasius wrote the life of St Anthony which was said to be the first hagiographical study of a person who had reached sanctity without tasting martyrdom.

The first instance of formal canonisation occurred in 993 when Pope John XV canonised Ulric of Augsburg and although one or two people were canonised in the following centuries, it wasn’t until the 17th century that Pope Urban VIII established the rules for canonisation, along with the actual process. So where does Alkelda fit into all this?

The “irreverent” book to which I have earlier referred tells us that in or around the year 800, Alkelda was an Anglo-Saxon princess who was martyred through being strangled by a pair of Danish women. It is also said that the water in the wells named in her honour will cure aching eyes if they are bathed with it.

St Alkelda’s Well at Middleham is near the church while the one near Giggleswick is known as the Ebbing and Flowing Well and is about a mile along the road to Clapham. Legend says that well was once inhabited by a nymph who turned it into a spring. It is said that Alkelda used to worship at this well and that she also baptised the faithful in its waters. Our ancestors of the past did believe that springs were magical places chiefly because their waters did not cause illness.

The transition from wishing well to holy well, or vice versa, is easy to understand but there are strong suggestions that Alkelda never existed as a woman. We must consider that keld is an old Yorkshire word for a spring of water while a holy well was known as halig kelda.

Was Alkelda really the name of a spring?

In confirmation that she was an actual person, she is said to be buried in Middleham church, and one of the pillars bears a note to say that her bones were found in the nave. Her fate at the hands of the Danish women is commemorated in a stained glass window in the north aisle while a stone in the vestry is believed to be part of her tombstone. The truth is that we may never know.

FEBRUARY, our shortest month, arrives tomorrow and some of us will refer to it as February Fill-Dyke because of its reputation as a period with lots of rain.

This month and January were added to the calendar in 700 BC, with January at the start of the year and February at the end. It was named in honour of the ancient pagan festival of Rome known as Februa, presided over by the god Februus.

That festival involved some purification ceremonies, derivations of which continue to this day on Candlemas Day (February 2) but the decemvirs of Rome (a board of ten magistrates established in 451) decided in 452 to place February after January where it has since remained.

Today, there is an interesting piece of Yorkshire weather lore that says: “There’s allus yar fair week in February.”