Wellacre Country Park

Stonechat

It was a cool, grey February morning but the breaking buds and birdsong were saying otherwise. This is the start of that time of year where the birdwatching becomes a bit easier because so much is shouting: "Here I am!" and you wonder if it has been wantonly overlooked all Winter. A case in point was the goldcrest singing in a garden conifer I passed on the way to the shop for a loaf of bread. Another passed through the back garden while I was refilling the bird feeders after some less than subtle Paddington Bear hard staring through the living room window by the spadgers. I'm old enough for all this to feel a bit early but it seems to be the new normal.

I thought I'd be at get some exercise to make sure the creaking limbs don't set completely so I got the bus into Flixton and had a slow dawdle round Wellacre Country Park.

Wellacre Wood 

Wellacre Wood was muddy underfoot and the usual fleeting shades amongst the leaves and twigs announced themselves as songbirds. A great tit sang lustily over the noises of a hard-fought football match on the school pitch and was answered by a coal tit singing from the highest bough on one of the alder trees. Wrens and dunnocks sang in the undergrowth, song thrushes and woodpigeons from tall trees and greenfinches from hawthorn bushes in the fields. A pair of ring-necked parakeets chased each other to Irlam Locks and back.

Pied wagtail fly-catching in mid-air

The horses had been moved into the field by the wood and were accompanied by the usual bunch of magpies and pied wagtails. It was a chance to get a closer look at the way the wagtails use the horses. One particularly effective strategy was to linger round the back end of a horse and wait for it to swish its tail when bothered by flies. The flies, if not stunned, were slowed down and made easy targets for quick fly-catching dashes by the wagtails. A couple of the female wagtails had surprisingly pale grey backs but their smutty dark grey flanks easily marked them as pied wagtails not white. It's a bit early for them to be passing through but these days you can't use the calendar to predict passage migration.

Pied wagtail fly-catching 

Stonechat

The "dunnock" I thought was bouncing about the hedgerow on Jack Lane turned out to be a female stonechat. I looked in vain for an accompanying male. One of the house sparrows resident in the hedge took against the stonechat and chased it into the tree on the other side of the lane. The stonechat decided to stay on that side of the lane, where the sparrows were a bit more laid-back.

House sparrow
Looking proud of herself for having chased the stonechat off her bit of fence.

Looking over towards Irlam Locks a dozen or so black-headed gulls made a racket about the water treatment works while a line of sixteen cormorants flew downstream towards the confluence with the Mersey.

Jack Lane Nature Reserve 

The entrance to Jack Lane Nature Reserve looked as if a regiment had walked it. Once past the gate the path was fine, though. A song thrush sang in one of the trees by the reedbeds while robins, dunnocks and wrens sang in the bushes. Moorhens fidgeted in the reeds and a water rail gave a series of blood-curdling squeals invisibly from the depths of the reedbed.

Parmelia, I think

Walking by the railway to Dutton's Pond 

The trees by the path beside the railway were quietly busy with titmice and singing goldcrests. The trees over the other side of the reedbed behind them held a bubbling hubbub of redwings and starlings.

Dutton's Pond was gently placid. The mallards quietly cruised about, magpies and moorhens quietly rummaged about on the banks and even the coots were having a calm moment.

Dutton's Pond 

Green Hill

The titmice were busy in the trees at the base of Green Hill but I drew another blank looking for any willow tits. It's a while since I've seen any either side of the railway line. A small flock of siskins in the alders was a bit of compensation, as was the singing chiffchaff in the hawthorns on the open slope. A great spotted woodpecker flew over from the railway to the trees by the stables, a jay flew from the stables to the railway embankment, which seemed a fair swap. I drew another blank looking for the usual buzzard here. 

Green Hill 

I drew another blank walking over to Carrington Road for the bus home: there wasn't a single bird on the river. The woodpigeons and carrion crows in the trees and fields made up the numbers and the singing robins, greenfinches and blackbirds confirmed the overall feel of the day that despite the weather, Spring is sprung.

Lazy Friday

Blue tit, Leighton Moss 

Quite what the blackbird was about, starting singing at half three in the morning, but he gave it a good hour before realising he'd set his clock wrong. It won't be long now until the dawn chorus becomes a set feature of the day.

The change in the weather has affected the joints and I've been sleeping badly lately anyway so I wasn't up for anything energetic or strenuous today. I've got a pile of compensatory return train tickets to use up so I decided to employ one on a train ride out to Barrow, have a short fossick round the local park then call in on Leighton Moss on the way back. I'm very aware that I'm short-changing Leighton Moss lately and I intend to make a day of it later in Spring. I was also aware there were a couple of long-tailed ducks at Hodbarrow but with the maintenance work on the Carlisle line it's extremely difficult to make the connections: the train as far as Corkicle leaves just before the Manchester train arrives and it runs every couple of hours. Extremely difficult but not impossible, I might revisit this when the get up and go hasn't got up and gone.

The train journey up was fine. Woodpigeons abounded at the trackside, along with carrion crows, magpies and jackdaws. Black-headed gulls no longer lingered in town centres, herring gulls only became a feature after Preston, rookeries were busy and the sparrows were nesting again in that roof by Chorley Station.

The pools by the coastal hides at Leighton Moss were busy with black-headed gulls. Wigeons, black-tailed godwits and teal littered the pool by the Eric Morecambe Hide, mute swans cruised, little egrets loafed and there was much else I couldn't register as the train went by.

The Kent at Arnside was quiet, the salt marshes on the other side were busy. Teals dabbled in pools, curlews roosted, carrion crows and black-headed gulls rummaged about, little egrets skulked in creeks, shelducks dabbled on the shores. As the train crossed the Leven the oystercatchers outnumbered the wigeons two to one and there was still no sign of any eiders. The rookeries of Cumbria were as bustling as those of Lancashire but there were far more herring gulls about and many looked like they'd chosen their rooftop nesting places.

The herring gulls of Barrow Station were a little camera shy

Barrow Station was very busy with herring gulls and lesser black-backs. I had forty minutes to wait for the train back to Silverdale so I ambled round the corner to Barrow Park. 

Barrow Park 

It's a nice walk, even on a cool and grey day, and the usual array of urban park bird life was making itself known. Blackbirds and robins fussed about in borders; goldfinches, woodpigeons and collared doves sang; I didn't really have the time for the walk down to the ponds and to be honest the knees were complaining about the steps down from the war memorial so I toddled back to the station for the ten-minute wait for the train.

Walking down from the war memorial 

Dunnock

At Leighton Moss I went straight to the Hideout to see what was on the feeders. A crowd of chaffinches almost monopolised the feeders, even the greenfinches got crowded out most of the time. A pair of marsh tits kept striking picturesque poses in a blackthorn bush but were resolutely against having their photos taken. Some of the other small birds were a bit more obliging.

Coal tit

Chaffinch

Blue tit

Chaffinch

I wandered over to Lilian's Hide where the black-headed gulls were in a noisy mood. In striking contrast to my last few visits not a duck was loafing on the near bank. A raft of tufted ducks mingled with a few pochards and a drake goldeneye over the far side. Coots, moorhens and teals bimbled about the reed edges. Half a dozen snipe slept by the reeds near the hide. A jack snipe had been reported earlier but I couldn't see it here. Four marsh harriers floated over the reeds, two males and two females but not convincingly two pairs. One of the males circled high up into the air but didn't indulge in the hoped-for bit of skydancing.

At Lilian's Hide 

Dawdling back to the visitor centre 

I dawdled back to the visitor centre and thence to the station for the train back, stopping by the car park to watch a pair of carrion crows rush a buzzard out of their territory. The journey back was good and I got home ready for a pot of tea and a chip butty after somehow accumulating fifty-odd species on the day's tally.

Woolston Eyes

Snipe

It was the last scheduled bright Spring day and I was as unsure what to do with it as I had been on Tuesday. By lunchtime I was so sick of my indecision I got the train with no idea where I was going and it was only when I heard myself ask the guard for a single to Padgate I realised I was going to Woolston Eyes.

Woolston Brook

I got off at Padgate, walked down to Woolston Brook and thence to the New Cut. Spring was in the air: robins, dunnocks, song thrushes and great tits sang in the gardens and hedgerows and the woodpigeons were being frisky in the trees. Chaffinches were singing along the brook and it occurred to me that if today's intent was to see lots of long-tailed tits to make up for not having seen any for a couple of days I wasn't doing an awful job of it.

New Cut

I persist in the notion that the New Cut should be the haunt of willow tits even though today drew another blank. Great tits, blue tits and long-tailed tits bounced through the drowned willows and wayside bushes. There were woodpigeons, magpies and robins galore and moorhens fussed about in the cut. A pair of collared doves disputed possession of one of the willows with a squirrel determined to have a rummage about in the canopy. Looking straight up the trail the shapes zipping across the path at irregular intervals were blackbirds and squirrels. One pair of male blackbirds were so intent on having a fight they bundled into me without a word of apology.

Collared dove

Grey Mist

A pair of mute swans cruised about Grey Mist. There were a lot of anglers on today so the coots were being heard and not seen.

River Mersey, Woolston Weir

At Woolston Weir I checked out all the tufted ducks just in case the scaup and lesser scaup that had spent February between Grappenhall and Lymm had come this way. All the tufties were tufties. There weren't many mallards about and both the teals and gadwalls were hugging the banks. A pair of great crested grebes were noisy, a pair of Canada geese were very quiet in the reeds.

Pochards

I crossed the weir and climbed up to the path above the river. Looking down I could see a raft of pochards, all drakes, drifting downstream while the ducks hung back amongst the tufted ducks and black-headed gulls. There were a few teal about, a lot more mallards, and as the river slowed down for the sharp bend shovelers could be seen dabbling amongst the willows. There was a chorus of disgruntled quacks as a pair of buzzards wheeled over the river but this died down once it became apparent the buzzards had their own business to attend to and they danced in circles upstream beyond the weir.

Buzzards

Tufted duck
I keep thinking I'm done with tufted duck pictures then they go and look photogenic in the sunlight.

Pochards, black-headed gull and great crested grebe

The path above the river, which is in the steep drop to the right

Up top robins, great tits and wrens sang, Cetti's warblers sang from hidden locations at the waterside. A chiffchaff was torn between fly-catching and singing from the same branch in the same tree I was watching one do the same last Spring.

Cormorant

The path dropped down and met the Ship Canal, and yes, I checked the tufted ducks here too. Cormorants struck backlit poses on bits of old jetties and yet more long-tailed tits bounced through the trees.

The path to the bridge to No.3 Bed 

I turned into the path for the bridge onto the nature reserve on No.3 Bed (I have my permit and key). Up till now I'd been walking with the sun in my eyes and struggling to photograph birds either strongly backlit or subject to very high contrast model lighting. Now that I would be having the light behind me the clouds started rolling in. I unlocked the gate, locked it after myself (a feat in itself, it's a big padlock in a thin gap in the fence and I live in dread of dropping the key, luckily the river's not very deep, it only comes halfway up the ducks) and crossed the bridge. There was a muttered chorus from the tufted ducks under the bridge and a heron perched on a tree in the corner. In the time it took for me to cross the bridge the weather had changed from cloudy but bright to grey and ominously gloomy.

Tufted ducks

Grey heron and coot

From the Sybil Hogg Hide

A quick look over the bed from the first couple of hides took in dozens of gadwalls, shovelers, coots and mallards and most of them paired up. I couldn't work out if the pochards were paired up or not. If they were pairs they were apparently making an effort to not look like it, keeping their distance and not swimming side by side like the other ducks. Pairs of Canada geese and greylags loudly broadcast their locations just in case having a pair of big geese on a small reedy island or a bare nesting raft wasn't obvious enough.

I walked round to the Morgan Hide. The hedges were busy with titmice and chaffinches, the trees and bushes in the meadows were heaving with chaffinches and greenfinches, there were scores of them. The goldfinches and bullfinches feeding in the hawthorn bushes were vastly outnumbered.

Not today 

Along the way I decided I wasn't going to climb up to the shipping container hide. I wasn't sure if I distrusted my knees more on the climb or the descent. Either way, prudence said no.

From the Morgan Hide 

The Morgan Hide overlooks an array of nesting rafts. A few black-headed gulls and Canada geese were showing an interest. A lesser black-back settled itself down in what is likely to become its favoured Summer eaterie. Snipe and teal fussed about on the muddy banks. For some reason a lapwing taking a proprietorial interest in one of the rafts took a dislike to one of the snipe, repeatedly flying over to chase it off the mud before returning to its raft. The snipe would fly back, join its mates, start digging for worms and the lapwing would fly over and have another go at it. I've no idea what that snipe had done to provoke it, they never strike me as being particularly mischievous.

Snipe

Snipe and teals

Snipe

A pair of great crested grebes cruised about the open water in between not-pairs-honestly of pochards. The dabchicks I'd been hearing for ages finally emerged from the reeds and started fishing in the open water. My first black-necked grebe of the year, Winter colours not yet fully lost, drifted in stage left and started fishing in the same area.

Black-necked grebe

It had started raining. I took the hint and made tracks. The meadow was still frantic with finches, the hedgerows busy with titmice. I crossed the bridge and followed the path round to Thelwall Lane. Google maps told me I was going to miss the next bus to Altrincham by four minutes and not for the first time I wondered how the ferry across the canal works. I can only think it's a one-way journey, there's no obvious means of contact from this side of the canal. So I scuttled over the locks and somehow had a five-minute wait for the number 5 bus, which took me to Altrincham whence I got a bus home.

Despite the rain at the end of the afternoon it had been a good walk and good birdwatching. I must thank myself for the surprise.

Marshside and Crossens Marsh

Wigeons, Marshside

The seasons are a-changing. On Monday the host of gulls parked on the school playing field included ten common gulls. Today there was just the one black-headed gull.

Seeing as it was going to be another nice, sunny day I thought I'd see what the other side of the Ribble Estuary had to offer. Yesterday Marshside recorded its first little ringed plover of the year; I didn't think that would still be around, they tend to be in a rush to get where they're going, but there may be other signs of Spring.

One of the signs of Spring was the deserted rugby pitch on Marshside Road. No waders or geese picked their way through the molehills. The marshes either side of the road were green sward with large puddles, the wigeons were in their scores not their hundreds and teals took some finding. I had worried I was dressed too warmly but the wind was brisk and cool though it had no edge to it.

Just a bit different to my last visit

Something, I know not what, sent clouds of wigeons and golden plovers up from Sutton's Marsh. This was to be a feature of the afternoon and on the rare occasions I could find the culprit each time it was a passing great black-back.

Junction Pool 

Approaching the end of the road I looked over at Junction Pool, which was still extensive. Pintails, shovelers and tufted ducks drifted about. A hare disappeared into an impossibly small patch of sedges on the bank, I have no idea how no part of it poked out at the sides. Black-headed gulls clamoured and took turns with the lapwings to harry any passing large gull. Yes, Spring was in the air.

I debated whether or not I would have the legs to walk down to Hesketh Road to see if the smew was still on the pool at that end and still being able to do some goose-watching at Crossens Outer Marsh. Before I made a decision either way I had gadwalls to find and the drains at the corner of Sutton's is usually a good place to try. No gadwalls, just mallards and a something diving at the edge of the reeds. It bobbed back up in the middle of the drain. I wouldn't need to go over to Hesketh Road to find the smew.

Mallard and smew

Mute swan and tufted duck

A first-Winter drake pochard with the tufted ducks on the pool by Sandgrounders had me scratching my head for a minute or two. It was underwater more often than up top so its fleeting appearances just let me register that it was something different without giving me a lot of help as to what it was. Half a dozen gadwalls loafing on the far bank added to the day's tally.

Black-headed gulls

Sandgrounders was slightly busier than it has been. Unpaired mallards tried to rectify that situation. Small groups of wigeons grazed and shovelers dozed. Further out, redshanks and ruffs joined the starlings and lapwings rummaging about on the marsh. Way over on Polly's Pool a thick white horizontal line turned out to be avocets, tightly packed. Avocets are not notable for being laid-back and I puzzled what could be bringing clouds of wigeons, golden plovers and handfuls of black-tailed godwits up into the air but leave them unmoved. Come to that, the lapwings and black-headed gulls didn't seem unduly bothered either and they looked to be gearing up for the breeding season. As I left the hide two kestrels, the immature bird and an adult female, gave every impression of hunting in concert though it may just have been the older bird looking to pinch prey from the younger.

Avocets

I walked by Marine Drive. Looking over to the outer marsh there were few ducks on the pools. Little egrets and pink-footed geese poked their heads out of the long grass and skylarks sang when they weren't chasing each other across the marsh. Out at the tideline a cloud of knots hurried upstream to roost.  On the inner marsh pairs of black-headed gulls courted, wing shoulders out, wing tips in and beaks down as they mirrored each other's head movements.

Teal

Little egret

A water pipit had been reported along this stretch so I kept an eye out for it. Reed buntings skittered about in the grass on the banks, starlings on the islands but I was seeing no pipits. I'd given up on it and was sat down watching the avocets breaking ranks and starting to feed when I found it. I was idly scanning round looking at the wigeons and tufted ducks on the nearest drain when I noticed some movements in the grass on a tiny patch of mud. The water pipit was hidden deep in the grass while it had a good preen and it seemed to be making a very thorough job of it., feathers fluffed up and beak going like a jackhammer in amongst the back feathers.

Pink-footed geese

Pink-footed geese were making use of the bathing facilities in the pools on the boundary of Marshside and Crossens Outer Marsh. I entertained hopes that something other might be among them but I was asking a bit much. A female marsh harrier floated by in the background and generated no response from within the marsh.

Crossens Inner Marsh 

I scanned over Crossens Inner Marsh, at first sight it was wigeons all the way but I started to pick out handfuls of teal and shoveler, a mallard or two, some pintails, a lot of golden plovers and a few lapwings, and the usual crowd of black-headed gulls. I wasn't seeing the snow goose that somebody had reported, which doesn't mean it wasn't there, only that I didn't see it. And sometimes you can look so hard for something you don't see it right in front of you.

Crossens Outer Marsh
There are thousands of geese out there. 

Pink-footed geese and Canada geese, at least

Lytham Lighthouse

Pink-footed geese

Pink-footed geese

Pink-footed geese

There was a gap in the traffic so I crossed the road and sat down at McCarthy's to check out the geese on Crossens Outer Marsh. There were parties of Canada geese and pink-feet close to hand but the crowds were hundreds of yards away. The odds against my picking out anything as not being a Canada goose or a pink-footed goose with just a pair of binoculars were considerable. So I spent a while giving it a go. Way out, probably on Banks Marsh, two whooper swans mingled with Canada geese, their white necks sticking out from the dark mist of black heads and necks. Relatively closer there were geese that looked taller and browner than the surrounding pink-feet that were probably pink-feet stretched out on sentry-go catching the sun. Two dark, high contrast, geese at the edge of a group of pink-feet were definitely barnacle geese, something that was confirmed later when I walked down a bit and the change of angle let me see their white faces. Oddly, there was just the one meadow pipit and no wagtails. Beyond the wildfowlers' pull-in the Canada geese and pink-feet were closer to the road and were joined by wigeons and teals on the banks of the River Crossens. As far as I could see, any white-fronts or bean geese would have needed a telescope to find so I was out of luck. Well, not entirely: a great white egret stuck its neck out from behind a bush next to the river then slowly disappeared as the bird walked out of sight down the near bank.

Canada geese and pink-footed geese

Pink-footed geese

I called it quits and walked into Crossens for the bus back to Southport. The weather had been good, there had been plenty to see and the year list had been kept ticking over. I deserved a cup of tea.

It was a daffodil sort of day