Tag: chestnuts

That ol’ chestnut

My son Jasper in an old photo that reappeared on Facebook recently. I have since discovered that disposing of house spiders outisde might not be the most humane thing to do after all!

I’ve had a couple of interesting spider-related experiences this week. The first was in a lofty old house which had vaulted ceilings, beautiful mature oak beams and hanging chandeliers.

The owner was apologising because she had noticed the amount of cobwebs dotted around the high beams and light fittings. She explained that the webs had quickly reappeared thanks to fact she had removed the bowls of chestnuts she usually kept around the house to deter spiders from setting up home.

“Are you sure it works?” I asked. She nodded emphatically and said the cobwebs had been absent while the chestnuts were in situ yet materialised very quickly after they’d gone. She believed the nuts emitted a pungent smell that was repugnant to our arachnid housemates.

I became very excited at the prospect of reducing my household dusting burden by the mere introduction of a few nuts, and checked whether she meant plain chestnuts or horse chestnuts. She used the plain chestnut and I vowed to find out more.

What I discovered was that whole, fresh chestnuts are surprisingly difficult to get from your local supermarket after Christmas. Thankfully, they are available online and I’m sure you could pick some up at a wholefood shop too.

The recommendation to use chestnuts to deter spiders has been around for a long time. The following was published in Nature magazine in May 1874: “Can any of your readers establish the truth of the following assertion? Spiders’ webs are never found upon beams from the Spanish or sweet chestnut tree, even when the timber is several centuries old. The keeper of the ruins of Beaulieu Abbey, in Hampshire, asserts that this is a fact, and the buildings of the Abbey, where beams of Spanish chestnut are used, are free from the invasion of spiders. His attention was drawn to this four years ago, and since then his observations have not thrown any doubt upon its accuracy.”

I could not find the answer to the writer’s question, but I have found several sources that say the claim has never been scientifically proven and is just an old wive’s tale. Some Cornish schoolchildren did their own experiment a few years ago with spiders and conkers which, along with walnuts, are also said to posses spider-repelling properties. However, the critters trotted merrily over the conkers, none the worse for being in contact with the noxious nuts. I will put some chestnuts around my house and see what happens. I’d love to know if you have tried it – or anything else – to keep your home spider and cobweb free.

The second spider-related incident came when I opened up Facebook and at the top of my feed was a picture of my son holding up his mobile phone upon which sat a huge eight-legged monster. It was a photo I had posted 18 months ago after having an unsettling encounter with the beastie. For some reason, a friend had recently commented on it which set off a whole new chain of reactions and comments from friends, some of whom hadn’t realised it was an old post, and that they had already commented when it originally appeared in 2024!

Despite the fact it was old news, it was fun to revisit it and read all the comments of horror, with some people suggesting that an arachnid of such proportions must have hitched a ride from a distant land. Our native house spider can grow surprisingly large and yet is harmless, while being really good at keeping down the population of other annoying pests like flies and mosquitoes.

During my research, I read something that made me quite distraught. We do not kill spiders at home, but capture them and deposit them outside on the assumption that it is the most humane way to deal with them. 

Apparently not. According to what I have read, house spiders cannot live outside for very long, so unless they are able to find somewhere warm and sheltered where they can spin a web to catch food, they will die.

If there is a spider scuttling about my bedroom, I will never be able to sleep, and yet, if I chuck it outside like I have been doing, I might be sentencing it to a lingering death.

So what the heck am I supposed to do now?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 23rd and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 21st Jan 2026

The Mystery of the Disappearing Chestnuts

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Marmalade the cat

 

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Sweet chestnuts

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on 19th January 2018, & the Gazette & Herald on 17th January 2018. 

You may remember that in my column from the Gazette & Herald on 6th September 2017 (‘Dad’s swift actions stop a catastrophe’) and the D&S Times from 8th September 2017 (‘Saved from catastrophe by Dad’s swift action’) that I talked about the various family cats, both tame and feral, that lived in and around my childhood home.

Dad recounts a lovely story about our longest-surviving cat, Marmalade, in his January 21st 1978 column. She had wandered into our garden as a very young stray and never left, becoming a much-loved part of the family. She had come from a nearby farm, but the farmer had no interest in the cats that frequented his hay barn and was more than happy when they took up residence elsewhere.

Mum and Dad had been stumped by the mystery of the disappearing chestnuts from the windowsill. What was a full bowl a few days earlier, was now no more than half full, and no-one confessed to having eaten any.

Then one day, Dad saw the cat jump on to the ledge and scoop out a chestnut with her paw, which then fell to the ground. She leapt after it in an uncharacteristically energetic way, and chased it across the floor, flicking it up into the air and batting it from paw to paw, as she would had she caught a mouse. Once the chestnut had disappeared under the furniture, she went back again for another one. What was it about the chestnut that ignited this new obsession? Dad had no idea, and my own searches have shed no light on it.

It brings to mind the effect of catnip, often used to scent pet toys. Catnip is a plant from the nepeta, or catmint, genus in the Lamiaceae family, and there are many varieties. In an article by the appropriately-named Kat Arney on the Royal Society of Chemistry website (www.chemistryworld.com), she explains that catnip contains a chemical called nepetalactone, which in cats induces behaviour similar to a person having taken drugs. They act with languid abandon, brushing their bodies against the leaves or rolling around among the stems. If they chew or eat it, they soon become what one might call ‘out of it’. For us humans, the plant can be infused to make herbal tea, and in times gone by small doses were used as a mild sedative. It is not recommended to be taken in large quantities, even though hopeful hippies gave it a go in search of a cheap high. All they ended up with was a painful headache and an upset stomach.

Catmint is a lovely garden plant, but to avoid delirious kitties flattening your borders, it is recommended that you place a small crop of nepeta cataria, the most potent catnip, in a place where you don’t mind them being mauled by frolicking felines, and then they will ignore the other milder varieties you have planted in pride of place. I have no idea if this distraction tactic works, and would be delighted if any readers can tell me!

After Marmalade arrived, she was soon followed by her sister Eric (my brother chose this name. He was outnumbered by females of both the human and feline variety, which might explain why!).

Eric remained feral, and we could never get close enough to tame her. After she had been with us for about a year, she produced a litter of kittens. We’d known she was pregnant and, due to her sudden change in appearance, that she had given birth, but we couldn’t find her litter anywhere. Then, on Christmas Eve 1977, she produced her own feline nativity scene in a very prominent position near our back door. Of course when we found the kittens, we instantly fell in love, and they were named (again courtesy of my brother) Alfred, Rodney (both girls) and Jackson (a boy).

But Eric would never be able to live indoors, and so Dad found the little family a cosy place in our disused henhouse, ensuring they had plenty of straw to keep them warm. We carried the kittens up to the henhouse ourselves, and lured Eric with some cat food on a spoon. She stayed there for about a week, before bringing her kittens back down to the back door on New Year’s Eve. So we repeated the process again, and this time she stayed. The young kittens thrived, and although they never became household pets, they became very much a part of our family history.