How to catch a dragon with a juicy worm . . .

NEARLY 60 years ago, my mother sent me off to Sunday school. It was a beautiful spring day and my heart was not really in it. there were better things to do than listen to boring old Bert, our Sunday school teacher. I called for my friend rodney and we set off towards the dilapidated church hall in Water Lane, opposite robertson’s Jam factory, near the scrapyard and the little station. yes, Brislington, Bristol South east and incidentally, tony Benn’s constituency. the area was the typical outskirts of a big city — the beautiful church of St Luke, and then the open country was on our doorstep. We decided to abandon Sunday school and head for the hills of Stockwood to hunt the ‘dragon’! Stockwood contained a couple of farms and little else except for a couple of superb ponds. We rested on the grass at the edge of our favourite pond and gazed into the deep clear water. at this spot, the sides were reinforced with brickwork. In the bottom of the pond there were dozens of newts, occasionally wriggling up to the surface for a gulp of air. Most were common or smooth newts. next came the slightly smaller palmate. But where was our ‘dragon’, the great crested newt, over 6in long and looking like a baby dinosaur? from under a ledge a large mouth suddenly appeared. With my penknife I dug up a worm and tied it to a piece of cotton thread (I always carried these for such an occasion). the worm was carefully lowered in front of the snout; immediately it struck. Very slowly, I lifted out the newt hanging onto the worm. yes! a male great crested newt. a crest like a saw blade ran down its back. four fingers on the front feet and five on the rear, decorated with alternate black and yellow rings. the underside was a riot of lemon yellow and black and its eyes were extraordinary. then, as always, he was gently returned to the water. as we prepared to return home, our mission achieved, we faced a dilemma. In my pocket I had a silver sixpence for the Sunday school collection, as did rodney. What should we do? Convert them into Mars Bars? no, but we clearly couldn’t take the money home, so we carefully placed the money on a hidden ledge under the water . . . at home, Mum said to me: ‘What did Bert talk about today?’ ‘the beauty of god’s creatures,’ I replied. ‘and what’s your favourite of god’s creatures?’ ‘the great crested newt,’ I said. ‘Have you seen one recently?’ ‘yes, Mum, quite recently . . .’ Over the next few years we returned to the scene of the crime, and yes the sixpences were still there! Several decades later, I became a teacher at Brislington school. Stockwood is now a large housing estate — our ponds have gone, and one home must have a couple of small coins in its foundations. the great crested newt is now so rare that you need a licence just to handle one. recently, a colony was found in the water jump of a famous racecourse. racing was stopped until the newts were relocated safely.

Peter templeton, chard, somerset.