One that got away

Binn Green 

Yesterday afternoon when I was fossicking about by Binn Green car park I kept hearing a bit of song that I wasn't sure about. There wasn't much of it, and what there was was intermittent and interrupted, much in the way that a mistle thrush song never quite seems to get going. The song was coming from somewhere in a bit of birch scrub further along the road but I couldn't pin down the singer. A couple of blackbirds chased each other across the trees and a dark shape, probably another blackbird, flitted between some bilberry bushes but I couldn't find the mystery singer.

At the time I concluded that it was probably a song thrush warming up then getting distracted before getting into full song. The warm up practice notes of some birds can be puzzling, one of our local robins will do a few blackcap calls before starting singing in the afternoon and there have been a couple of times at Barton Clough where it's taken half a minute before I could be sure which of the singing thrushes was cranking up the engine. And I had a head full of wood warbler so wasn't paying all that much attention anyway. So I concluded it was probably a song thrush.

Sometimes these things nag at me. When I was writing up the last post last night I was reviewing the songscape in my head and something didn't quite fit. And there was something about that dark shape flitting between bilberry bushes that wasn't quite. The song sounded like a bit like a fragment of song thrush song, sung slow and sad. Two loud call notes repeated then a pause then a slow few seconds of something more complex like somebody learning and practicing an unfamiliar bit of music concentrating on the notes not the tempo. Sometimes it would just be the call notes.

I'd given up on the puzzle and was idly browsing bird reports later on when I noticed somebody mention seeing ring ousels further up Holmfirth Road. I hadn't been hearing and not recognising a ring ousel song had I? I had no idea what they sounded like. I went onto the Xeno-Canto web site and looked up some ring ousel songs. The first one I heard wasn't like the song I'd been fretting about. The second one was, though. And the third. And the fourth.

In all probability I'd been hearing a ring ousel singing, hadn't paid enough attention to the unconscious observation that this was something different and didn't put enough effort into finding the singer. It happens, it's part of the game. Usually it'll be a fairly common bird and I'll realise what I hadn't been registering when I hear another one singing or calling a couple of hundred yards down the path.

So I dipped on a ring ousel. Ah well. Next time I'm up that way I almost certainly won't remember what its song sounds like but if I hear something unfamiliar I will remember to check that it isn't a ring ousel.

Dove Stone

Red-legged partridge 

I slapped the sun cream on and set out on what was forecast to be a not bad day, remembering to take my cap to keep the sun off my bald patch and the rain, too, if I was unlucky. Both knees were aching and needed a bit of exercise in them so I thought a few inclined planes would be in order. A wood warbler had been reported singing in the usual territory by Dove Stone Reservoir so I thought I'd try and find it.

I got the train to Greenfield and walked through town to Holmfirth Road. I could have waited twenty minutes for the bus but it's less than a mile onto the walk. I checked out the canal and the rivers for grey wagtails or dippers, just in case, but no joy.

Chew Valley from Holmfirth Road 

It was pleasant walking weather and after the first rather steep hundred yards the rest was a nice gentle incline up to the car park at Binn Green where the wood warbler can be heard.

Beside Holmfirth Road 

There were plenty of jackdaws and woodpigeons in the fields on the approach to Dove Stone Reservoir. But no starlings, which struck me as odd. Blackbirds and song thrushes sang in the trees accompanied by robins, chiffchaffs and willow warblers. A nuthatch made sure I hadn't noticed it was using an old woodpecker's nest for its own purposes.

Chew Valley 

Looking over at Chew Valley I felt guilty for not having had a walk up there in decades. I really should, it's just a long drag up from the station to the car park by the reservoir where the path up the valley begins. I'll have to get the bus to the Clarence and start from there when I finally get round to it. I can't say I fancy the walk back up Park Road, mind.

I'd spotted a couple of pheasants in the fields and I'd accidentally spooked a buzzard which was feeding on beetles in the sheep droppings before it noticed me coming and flew sharply off, I almost overlooked the red-legged partridge sitting on the other side of the wall. I only noticed it when I was putting the lens cap back on the camera after taking a photo.

Dove Stone Reservoir 

Drawing level with the reservoir chaffinches and blackcaps joined in with the singing in the trees. I thought for a moment I could hear a cuckoo but at that moment half a dozen cars came hurtling down the road, drowning out all save the song thrushes. Once they'd passed I tried again but could only hear the yapping of a distant dog.

As I approached the marker for the start of the Peak District National Park I heard a faint trill in the trees ahead which made me prick up my ears. I couldn't catch it again but strongly suspected it was the wood warbler, which was encouraging. Just as encouraging was hearing an unambiguous call from a cuckoo somewhere in the trees on the other side of the woodland below the road.

Binn Green 

I arrived at the Binn Green car park where the first bird to greet me was a coal tit wanting me to move on so it could visit its nest, which I did. It had chosen a tiny crack in a dry stone wall for its nest hole.

Binn Green 

The trees were lively with birdsong. The blackbirds, song thrushes, chiffchaffs and willow warblers were joined by chaffinches, robins and a mistle thrush. I've been giving the Merlin app another try so I thought I'd let it sift through the songscape. It struggled to find the song thrushes and chiffchaffs but it picked up a couple of blackcaps before I did. I think the dunlin it flagged up was a bit of road traffic noise. 

I didn't need the app to find the wood warbler, it was trilling in the conifers by the car park. There's something almost grasshopper-like about the song, quite different to our other leaf warblers. Hearing it and seeing it were quite different things, despite the relative lack of leaf cover in the conifers. A moment's quick glimpse as it flitted between trees was the best I was getting today.

The cuckoo was singing from this plantation on the other side of the reservoir

I had a nosy round, bumping into great tits and pairs of chaffinches in the undergrowth along the way. A cuckoo started calling. It may have been the same bird as before but this time it was singing from the plantation over on the other side of the reservoir. I looked out from the viewpoint by the car park but couldn't find it.

Binn Green 

I was back in the car park and I tried and failed to find the wood warbler as it sang in the trees. I had a bit more luck looking in from the road, a full half-second's sighting before it disappeared into the canopy of a conifer. I was happy just to be able to hear it.

Red-legged partridges

The walk back down Holmfirth Road was much the same as on the way up. The clouds had rolled in a bit which made for a few dramatic lighting effects on the landscape. A pair of Canada geese bobbed about in the middle of the reservoir, the only birds I saw on it all afternoon. Even the passing black-headed gulls kept on passing. The red-legged partridge I'd passed on the way up was joined by a friend.

Dove Stone Reservoir 

Holmfirth Road 

The sum total amount of tawny owl I've seen this year

I walked the way down into Greenfield, got the 350 bus from the Clarence into Ashton-under-Lyne and thence home. As hillwalking goes the afternoon had been a lazy doddle but it had sorted out the aching knees and the year list had been boosted up to 181.

Manchester

Pin Mill Brow 

It was early afternoon as I got off the train at Piccadilly and I thought I should try and do something with it but without travelling far so I left by the Fairfield Street exit, headed up towards Great Ancoats Street and just after the last of the railway arches I turned onto Helmet Street. 

Helmet Street 

The River Medlock runs alongside Helmet Street but you can't see much of it and what little you can see is obscured by fly-tipping. The trees were busy with goldfinches and woodpigeons and noisy with song thrushes and blackbirds. I got to the end of the street and onto Great Ancoats Street where you can get a better view of the river. There have been times when I've seen dippers and grey wagtails here, today I just saw robins and wrens.

Pin Mill Brow 

I crossed over and took the path along the river at Pin Mill Brow. This is a tiny patch of riverside woodland in the city centre, half an hour's stroll if you really, really dawdle. There were yet more woodpigeons and goldfinches, chiffchaffs and blackcaps tried to make themselves heard over the song thrushes and blackbirds, and great tits and wrens rummaged in the undergrowth. The surprise catch was a garden warbler singing deep in the trees by the housing estate.

River Medlock 

Looking out over the river from the bridge on Palmerston Street I could see no dippers or wagtails but a moorhen showed there was still some life in the river.

I didn't fancy the walk into Holt Town and Beswick so I walked back down and got the bus home from Piccadilly Gardens.

Peak District

Yesterday afternoon a hoopoe had been found in Derbyshire near Glossop, this morning I thought I'd bob over to see if it had stayed the night. I got the train from Piccadilly, got off at Glossop Station and walked the mile or so up Woodhead Road to Upper Swineshaw Reservoir. The hoopoe had been seen in fields near stables by the reservoir.

The jackdaws, pigeons and woodpigeons of the town centre gave way to the woodpigeons, blackbirds and robins of the gardens further up the road. Chiffchaffs and goldfinches sang in trees. At the edge of town willow warblers joined the chiffchaffs in the trees and whitethroats sang in the fields.

By Woodhead Road 

The sheep shared their fields with small flocks of woodpigeons, jackdaws, rooks and starlings and pairs of lapwings kept a watchful eye as I walked by or crows flew overhead. The hoopoe had been in a field just after Cemetery Road, I couldn't see anything in there that wasn't woodpigeons or jackdaws. I walked up the road as far as the reservoir, scanning the fields either side of the road. Plenty of woodpigeons, jackdaws and starlings, a few lapwings and mallards, a pheasant or two. No hoopoe. I wasn't altogether surprised: May rarities are quite often one-day wonders.

By Woodhead Road 

It started to rain so I wandered back the way I came. I spent a while scanning round the field opposite Cemetery Road, adding a brace of hares to the day's tally. There comes a time where you have to give up getting rained on while you look for something that isn't there, I gave it an hour and called it quits.

Longendale from Park Road

Starlings, Hadfield 

I decided to walk up Cemetery Road to Hadfield for the train back, largely because there were more fields that way and there was always the possibility the hoopoe might just have shifted a few fields along. There were more woodpigeons, jackdaws and starlings, a lot of the starlings had noisy youngsters in tow. A couple of fields had flocks of black-headed gulls in them, I couldn't see an obvious difference between those particular fields and most of the others. A few pheasants lurked, chiffchaffs, willow warblers and song thrushes sang, swallows twittered overhead.

Walking down Park Road to Hadfield 

The original plan was to move on and hunt for wood warblers at Dove Stone but given the dour state of the weather I put that off for another day.

Leighton Moss

Pochards

The weather looked decidedly iffy, I got myself an old man's explorer ticket and headed for Leighton Moss where I wouldn't have to walk too far for shelter if things turned bad.

Maidenhair ferns and ivy-leaved toadflax, Silverdale Station 

It was a gloomy, drizzly sort of a lunchtime when I arrived at Silverdale. The coastal pools had been full of black-headed gulls as we passed by and greylags shepherded small herds of goslings along field drains by the track. Blackcaps, blackbirds, chaffinches and robins sang by the station, it sounded like it was going to be a busy visit.

Not lucky today

I checked out the field by the railway line just in case it was my turn to get lucky and see a green woodpecker (it wasn't). Up to about ten years ago I used to hear them quite regularly here and once in a while I'd actually see them in the far corner of the field having a go at ants' nests. They're back this year and being seen often enough for me to keep my fingers crossed when I poke my head over that wall.

On arrival at Leighton Moss I was warned there was a school visit on and, as predicted and as usual, it turned out they were no problem at all. Sometimes there's an issue if there's a shouty teacher with the kids but that wasn't the case today.

The Hideout wasn't in use as I passed so I got my eye in with the chaffinches, dunnocks and great tits on the feeders and my ear in with the chiffchaffs, willow warblers, nuthatches and wrens in the trees. A Cetti's warbler sang from the undergrowth by the side. By the time I'd be going home I would have heard more Cetti's warblers than any of the others, and sometimes from surprising places.

Great crested grebe 

Nesting black-headed gulls 

Lilian's Hide was busy with grown-ups, all of whom were well-behaved. A dozen or so swifts were swooping about as I took my seat. Coots and black-headed gulls accounted for most of the noise. Great crested grebes, greylags and pochards quietly got on with their business. The business of most of the drake pochards was trying to impress the ladies. A pair of great black-backs cruised ominously in the far corner. I could just see that the usual pair were over on their nest on the osprey tower.

Female marsh harrier taking dinner home to the kids

A bittern started booming but stayed resolutely deep in the reeds. It's one of the few birdsongs I feel more than I hear, there's a lot of infrasonic going on in there. A female marsh harrier flew in carrying a sizeable package that was big enough to be a dabchick, conspicuously not circling the nest before setting down on it.

From the Skytower 

I had a look from the Skytower. The gaps cleared in the reeds over the Winter were just distant memories. More Cetti's warblers sang and the songs of sedge and reed warblers came quietly in the breeze.

I walked down to the reedbed hides. The wooded section was surprisingly quiet with lots of furtive movements in the undergrowth and lots of misleading movements in the trees as light raindrops from the mizzle dropped from the ends of leaves. I looked through to the fields beyond but could only see molehills and a couple of woodpigeons, it evidently wasn't my turn for green woodpeckers.

Sedge warbler 

The sedge warblers grew louder as I approached the reeds, slightly more metallic and jerky than the more distant reed warblers. It's always a relief to see one do its quick song flight just to confirm I've got it right. More swifts and black-headed gulls passed by, a couple of greylags honked as they flew overhead. I kept an eye out for ospreys, just in case, and had to make do with a male marsh harrier which, as making do goes, is a very nice consolation prize. As I crossed the bridge over the drain half a dozen swallows twittered past low over the reeds and headed off towards the visitor centre and beyond.

Looking down the main drain from the bridge

This sand Martin nestbox was put up donkey's years ago and they never came. The past few years the oystercatcher has nested on one corner, the black-headed gull the other.

The pool at the Tim Jackson Hide was littered with coots, mallards and gadwalls. Shovelers and teals, the usual mainstays here, were notably absent. One of the coot chicks had a habit of wandering well away from its parent into the middle of the pool, a bit reckless given that the marsh harriers have mouths to feed. For once I sympathised with coots' bad-tempered parenting. The delinquent was quickly brought back into cover. The usual combination of oystercatcher and black-headed gull was nesting on the sand martin nest box. They literally couldn't get any further away from each other. What they lose to visibility to gulls and harriers they gain by protection from ground-based attacks.

Nesting black-headed gull

Nesting oystercatcher 

Reed warblers sang deep in the reeds by the path to the Griesdale Hide, chiffchaffs and reed buntings sang in the trees while blue tits bounced about between trees and reeds. A ghostly-looking damselfly flew past, immature and not long out of its pupa and beyond my identification skills even if it had stayed still long enough for a proper look at it.

Domestic bliss: great black-backs 

The Griesdale Hide was quiet. A few mallards and gadwalls dabbled and quacked, a heron stalked a side pool and even the coots behaved themselves. Over on the osprey tower the great black-backs were well settled in, the male growling at any passing gulls or harriers. I can't imagine anything smaller than an eagle having a pop at a great black-back nest.

Red deer

Walking back I had no luck again with green woodpeckers on the fields but a red deer hind quietly grazed and paid no heed to passing birdwatchers.

The boardwalk to the causeway 

I walked over to the Causeway Hide, Cetti's warblers singing in the undergrowth, water rails squealing in the reeds and my first four-spot chaser of the year zipping over the hawthorn hedges.

From the Causeway Hide: greylags, Canada geese, mallards, great black-back, mute swans and cormorant 

The Causeway Hide was busy so I stayed outside and had a look round from the screen. The island was still largely underwater, just high enough to host an assortment of geese, ducks, gulls and mute swans. There were more mute swans, Canada geese and mallards cruising about the pool and a crowd of pairs of tufted ducks clustered about the corner by the causeway. 

Black-headed gull

The weather closed in at the Causeway Hide 

The wind had gotten up and the weather was closing in. Swifts and swallows followed the weather in. I thought it would be prudent to get myself a cup of tea and a train home. I wasn't going to be adding osprey to the year list today. On the way back I kept eyes and ears peeled for any marsh tits, the last omissions from my target list for the day. I wasn't very surprised to have no luck, they spend all Winter pretending to be fearless but during the breeding season they keep an exceptionally low profile so the other titmice don't pinch their nest sites.

Bullfinch

I stopped at the Hideout for one last look round. A male bullfinch monopolised the feeders, dunnocks and robins flitting in and out. A juvenile robin hopped out of the ivy for a moment or two before being escorted back under cover by one of its parents. Just as I called it quits a marsh tit flew in, grabbed a sunflower seed then shot off into the undergrowth. At least this time I didn't have to wait until I got back to the station before seeing one!

I got myself a cup of tea and headed back to the station, having one last glance over an empty field and looking at the crows by the golf club. I didn't have long to wait for the Manchester train and was serenaded by a Cetti's warbler in the car park while I waited.

From the roadside path to the causeway 

Local patch

On the way back from Pennington Flash I just missed the 25 home so I got the 250 and got home via Lostock Park and the relict cornfield. I thought I'd see if any of the whitethroats had arrived yet, assuming they're coming at all.

The good news is that I found one doing its flight call from the brambles by the fence before the rain started to take itself seriously. 

A bonus was the buzzard being mobbed by a carrion crow and four lesser black-backs. It's a regular target for the crows, the gulls joining in so persistently suggests that they have, as I suspected, got nests on the roofs of the industrial units. Elsewhere a pair of carrion crows were busy with their display flying and croaky canoodlings. We don't give enough credit to the romantic souls of crows.

• Blackbird 3, 2 singing
• Buzzard 1
• Carrion crow 3
• Chaffinch 1 singing
• Chiffchaff 1 singing
• Goldfinch 11, 2 singing
• Greenfinch 1
• House sparrow 3
• Lesser black-back 5
• Long-tailed tit 1
• Magpie 3
• Mistle thrush 2
• Robin 1 singing
• Song thrush 1 singing
• Whitethroat 1 singing
• Woodpigeon 8
• Wren 1 singing

Pennington Flash

Jay

I got soaked through on the way home in the thunderstorm from my dad's last night. I could say that I didn't set out for today's walk until lunchtime because I was giving my coat a chance to dry but it was really a combination of a good book, a sleeping cat and sheer idleness.

I got the 132 from the Trafford Centre and struck very lucky changing onto the 35 to Leigh in Boothstown. Rather than getting to 610 to Pennington Flash as is my usual custom I decided to get the 584 into Plank Lane, cross the canal and take the path from Slag Lane onto Ramsdales Rucks and onto the flash. There'd been reports of a wood warbler singing on the rucks first thing and you never know your luck.

It was quiet on the marina at Plank Lane, just a couple of mallards and some house sparrows. The trees on the other side of the lake were a different matter: blackbirds, robins, wrens and blackcaps were all in full song. I crossed the canal and by the Slag Lane car park a song thrush and some goldfinches joined the songscape. A couple of pairs of swifts zipped about overhead.

Walking in from Slag Lane 

The rough track onto the rucks wasn't much rougher than the pedestrian entrance from St Helens Road and was mostly baked dry. The songscape was constant, as the trees started to thin out a little willow warblers took over from the blackcaps. Magpies and jays bounced about in the trees and blackbirds and robins fussed about the path margins. A pair of bullfinches quietly slipped through the trees as I passed them by. 

It was a cloudy day and cooler than the weekend but not so cool that I couldn't expect to see a few butterflies or damselflies. I didn't see a one. As I got into the more open stretches of the rucks a cool breeze blew and provided an excuse for their absence. There were plenty of willow warblers, blackbirds and robins in the area where the wood warbler has been reported but I couldn't hear anything remotely like its staccato song. Not my day for being lucky.

Ramsdales Rucks 

As the path approached the canal whitethroats took over from the willow warblers. It was interesting to hear the changes from one habitat to another as I walked along. Gulls, mostly black-headed and lesser black-backs flew to and fro between the common on the other side of the canal and the flash. A great black-back lumbered by and an arctic tern screeched past and headed North, I didn't expect one of them today.

Pennington Flash 

Approaching the flash willow warblers and whitethroats sang in the trees, reed warblers sang in the reedbeds and a Cetti's warbler sang from the willow undergrowth by the path but wouldn't show itself. Swifts zipped about, a herd of mute swans cruised over to the sailing club and a great crested grebe fished in the water just beyond the reeds.

Walking towards Ramsdales Hide 

I followed the path round towards Ramsdales Hide, chiffchaffs and blackcaps taking over from the whitethroats and willow warblers. The coal tits and long-tailed tits foraging in the canopy were hard work to keep tabs on, I'd only noticed them at all because I was trying — and failing — to find where a juvenile robin was squeaking from. They, in turn, led me to a willow tit working at the mossy bark high in a willow like a tiny woodpecker. It found a caterpillar the size of its head, beat it into submission and flew to its nest with its prize. It was soon back hammering at that stretch of bark but seemed only to be getting beakfuls of small insects thereafter.

Moorhen on nest

At first sight Ramsdales Hide looked quiet. The nesting Canada geese, coots and lapwings were surprisingly inconspicuous, unlike the moorhen which had its nest out in the open, dead centre. You usually have to put in a lot more work to find a moorhen's nest. Pairs of gadwall drifted about, black-headed gulls made a racket as they passed by, a female mallard had a dozen ducklings in tow. A single stock dove rummaged about on the islands.

Little ringed plover

This time of year there's always the chance of a passing wader so I scanned round the patches of bare mud with my fingers crossed. I was in luck: over on the far bank a little ringed plover skittered across the water's edge.

Canada goose and little ringed plover 
Little ringed plovers are very little.

Little ringed plover 

A pair of blackcaps lurked in the hawthorn bush on the corner of the path and the usual Cetti's warbler had decided to sing from the hedge by the Tom Edmondson Hide. The pool there was quiet, just a few gadwall, dabchicks and coots. I pointed out a coot's nest to a couple who'd come in for a quick look and they had a nice view of a heron flying into the trees opposite.

Opposite the Tom Edmondson Hide 

The Cetti's warbler had moved back to its usual patch of scrub on the other side of the path when I came out. A pair of shovelers and a gadwall dabbled by the reeds on the pool, the reed warblers were notable by their absence.

Walking down I was pleased to hear a sedge warbler singing in the dogwoods by Pengy's Pool, I've not had a lot of luck with them here the past couple of years.

From the Horrocks Hide 

It was quiet at the Horrocks Hide. A few cormorants and herring gulls loafed on the end of the spit. Lapwings, woodpigeons and stock doves quietly rummaged about in the grass. A pair of Canada geese had half a dozen goslings. It looked like it was standing room only for the black-headed gulls nesting on the raft beyond the spit.

Pennington Flash 

Out on the flash there were a few loafing lesser black-backs and herring gulls. There was a small raft of apparently non-breeding great crested grebes. And only a couple of pairs of tufted ducks, the majority being discreetly busy elsewhere. There were plenty of swifts hawking over the water but nary a single hirundine despite the weather closing in.

Bradshaw Leach Meadow 

I decided not to chance my luck with the weather and headed for St Helens Road. There were only handfuls of mallards, Canada geese and lesser black-backs on the car park, probably because it was closed for repairs (already?). As I crossed the brook a pair of goosanders broke cover from the reeds and swan quickly upstream.

I got the 610 back to Leigh. It was that part of the afternoon when there's a long wait for the 126 as its schedule takes into account the end of the school run and the beginning of the rush hour so I got the V1 to Sale Lane and got the 132 back to the Trafford Centre from there. While I was waiting half a dozen swifts drifted by heading for Moseley Common and a dozen house martins chipped and chattered low over the rooftops. There's roadworks between Tyldseley and Wigan so I had a longer than expected wait but I struck lucky: the rain didn't properly fall until I was safely on the bus.