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

Lytham

Linnets

It was threatening to be a fine, sunny day and I had far too many options for doing something with it, and the very real danger I might not do anything at all. I got the train into town, bought an old man's explorer ticket and decided I'd head for the Fylde coast. I keep passing through Lytham without stopping to look at the Ribble Estuary here, today seemed like a good day to rectify this. I could spend an hour or so there and then move on in a dawdly sort of fashion.

The trains behaved beautifully and I was surprisingly soon walking down to the promenade. The tide was high and the marsh was wet and filled with skylarks and linnets. Every so often a cock linnet would strike a pose on a bit of driftwood and sing, the skylarks were only practise singing, rarely going above head height.

Lytham Jetty

There looked to be a lot of gull and wader activity on the river so I walked down to the end of the jetty to see what was about. Most of the gulls in town had been herring gulls, most of the gulls on the river were black-headed gulls. The tide must have been on the turn: parties of a dozen or so redshanks were starting to fly down stream. There were lots more of them, plus a handful of curlews and some little egrets, with the gulls on the muddy nearside bank. The heat haze made most of the masses of birds on the far bank indistinguishable. I could pick out a few cormorants, mistake a few bits of tree as cormorants, and mistake cormorants for bits of tree. The white shapes were gulls and, using the cormorants for scale, most of them were probably black-headed though I shouldn't like to swear on it. The lines of silhouettes fringed brownish grey could have been any number of things. A skein of pink-footed geese that flew low overhead and out into the estuary were mercifully dead easy to identify.

River Ribble
Redshanks, black-headed gulls, curlews, herring gulls and little egrets

Walking back up the jetty I stopped to watch a reed bunting singing from the top of a stick. As I turned to resume the walk a small bird shot from under the jetty, flew down a few yards and disappeared under the jetty and out of sight. It repeated the trick a few minutes later when a dog romped down the jetty. From such brief glimpses I couldn't be sure of its identification, instinct said rock pipit but it had to have big question marks against it. Unlike the pied wagtail bouncing round the windmill just down the way.

Reed bunting

Lytham Windmill

As I walked past the windmill a handful of linnets and a couple of meadow pipits flew past. For some reason I glanced down and there was a rock pipit at my feet. It noticed I'd noticed and was off like a shot. I checked to make sure it hadn't tied my bootlaces together.

Winter Hill over the Ribble Estuary

Little egret

I walked down and dropped onto the path that runs by the Main Drain. It was squelchy underfoot but not terribly so and the worst stretches were pools of cleanish water in grass. Linnets and reed buntings flitted about and sang in bushes. A little egret shrimped in a little pool by the path. The tide was definitely ebbing now and the muddy banks of the drain were lined with teals and redshanks. A couple of times I had to apologise to them as the path approached the drain too close for their comfort. It was warm and sunny but even so I was surprised to see a peacock butterfly, my first butterfly of the year, fluttering about the rough grass. 

Teal

Teals

I'd been seeing shelducks, carrion crows and a couple of buzzards on the marsh beyond the drain. They were easier to see as I walked back along the path on the terrace above the marsh. Way out, over towards Warton Bank I think, a couple of long white necks could be seen poking out of the marsh. At that distance I couldn't be sure if I was looking at the neck of a great white egret or a whooper swan until one bird obligingly walked out into a patch of open water, the long white neck trailing a feather mattress behind it.

Main Drain and, beyond, the River Ribble

I'd bumped into a couple of birdwatchers on the jetty and I bumped into them again here. They were looking for some avocets that had been reported on the river. By this stage they'd found them but looking at them through the heat haze through their telescopes was being challenging. They told me where to look and I could definitely see a small group of white shapes on the far bank and they definitely looked smaller and more graceful than the gulls — black-headed gulls? — to the side of them. I couldn't definitely identify them as anything until they flew a few yards down the bank. Heat haze or no heat haze, the black markings on the white wings jumped out even at this distance.

I wished them luck and walked on until I found a bench and had a sit down. I had a decent view of the marsh and it occurred to me that there are worse ways of spending an hour or two than sitting on a bench in Spring sunshine scanning a stretch of salt marsh. So I did. There were a couple of groups of geese, a handful each, a few hundred yards out. The group of Canada geese were unmistakable. The balance of probability was that the grey geese were pink-feet but at this distance with the light behind them I couldn't be sure they weren't tundra bean geese or Russian white-fronts, groups of both of which have been kicking about the Ribble Estuary lately. A buzzard drifted in and sat on a tree trunk. A female marsh harrier floated over the distant upstream marsh, it's surprising how that golden splash on the forehead catches the sunlight even that far away. I hoped to see the ring-tailed hen harrier the other chaps had seen but I had no luck. I couldn't feel sorry for myself as I spotted a merlin perched on a tree trunk downstream from where I was sitting. The birdwatching was unspectacular but quietly productive and there are worse ways of spending an afternoon.

I asked myself if I wanted to walk down to the station and wait for the train to Blackpool South with a view to a bit of sea watching at Starr Gate or the Preston train with a view to getting off at Poulton-le-Fylde for a nosy at Skipool Creek. I checked the train times and decided against. I got the bus into Blackpool and took a circuitous route home. Watching a Pennine sunset I reminded myself I haven't done any hill walking yet this year.

On Lytham Windmill
Spot the starlings.