New Moss Wood

Blackbirds, Stretford

The garden's entered that time of year where it would be deadly silent but for the existence of blackbirds and magpies. The young magpies are all excited because they have discovered the rowan berries, which aren't quite ripe yet. The blackbirds, however, have set about denuding the boysenberries and are fighting over the spoils. This morning the young bird spent an hour and a half alarm-calling without apparently drawing a breath. Every afternoon I see berries that will soon be ripe for picking then every morning I find the blackbirds have beaten me to it. Mind you, at least they let me see the fruit start to colour up and I usually get a handful of them for myself in the end. In twenty-five years I've had one pear off the tree, the squirrels eat them when they're about the size of a damson. 

I was feeling low energy today, my own fault: I'd noticed the unlikely score line Argentina 1 : Cape Verde 1 and had to watch the match to the end. I needed some exercise, I'm getting lazy, so I got the train into Irlam, strolled past the allotments and had a wander round New Moss Wood then got back by walking into Cadishead via the path across the old railway line and getting the 67 to Irlam Station. A toddle round and six stops on the bus, I felt like I'd done a route march.

It's not just my back garden that's gone quiet. It wasn't until I passed the allotments and got to the stretch of path that runs by the railway that I first started hearing any birdsong, a blackcap singing in the trees. There were woodpigeons and house sparrows sat on rooftops, goldfinches and greenfinches flew between trees and swifts looked to have a nest in the eaves of a corner terrace but for once there was no sign of any blackbirds, robins or starlings. I picked a couple of blackberries from the brambles by the railway, by way of compensation for the boysenberries I've not been getting.

Turning the hay

It was a heavy, grey day and despite a strong breeze the weather felt warm and clammy like the embrace of a sweaty armpit. The hay was being turned in the field by Moss Road, the tractor being followed by pheasants, of all things. A few lesser black-backs drifted over and floated low over the field before moving on, the process evidently wasn't disturbing out much insect life. Overhead squadrons of woodpigeons passed between fields and copses with no general overall pattern to their movements.

Entering New Moss Wood 

The whitethroats in the field leading into New Moss Wood seemed to be singing to meet contractual obligations rather than with any commitment to the song. They hurled three or four notes at each other from the high points of their bramble patches then retreated into cover before receiving an answer. The songscape was completed by the goldfinch singing in the hedge by the garden at the side.

New Moss Wood 

It wasn't a lot noisier in the wood. I counted four singing blackcaps and two singing wrens in the end. A chiffchaff could only be bothered with an occasional chiff. This time of year always reminds me how reliant I am on hearing the birds to spot them. The rustling of the wind in the trees muffled the contact calls of the blue tits, great tits and chaffinches. Any blackbirds, robins or song thrushes were silent and in deep cover. Perhaps the best illustration of the quiet of the post-breeding moult was the wren I disturbed as I walked up the central ride. It jumped out of the wayside bracken and sat on the lower branch of a birch tree furiously wagging its tail at me, completely silently. For fifty weeks of the year I'd have been on the receiving end of a very loud scolding.

Red admiral

There were dozens of red admirals sunning themselves as best they could on the rides. There's plenty enough nettles for their caterpillars to feast on. Meadow browns and speckled woods fluttered about the bracken and long grasses, commas chased each other by the waysides and the excellent year for painted ladies extended its run. I thought it was too cool, grey and windy to expect to see anything on the little dragonfly pools and I proved right.

Comma

New Moss Wood 

I emerged from the wood in time to see a swallow make a low pass over the turned hay before moving on. I moved on, too, walking back down Moss Road to the railway bridge and turning onto the path that runs alongside the railway, over the old Wigan to Stockport line then follows that line into Cadishead. Which sounds a long walk but is really barely quarter of a mile. A collared dove sang at the start of the path, a woodpigeon sang at the end and a blackcap sang about halfway down. Blackbirds, goldfinches, magpies and wrens rummaged about the hedgerows. Large whites and commas fluttered about the waysides. Once again I reminded myself that it looks like there's a good walk to be had along the old railway line.

The Wigan to Stockport railway line 

At the end of the path I saw the bus pass by, going to the end of the route a few streets away. That meant I had about three minutes to get to the bus stop to catch it on the way back. Which I did with time to spare. I had a five minute wait for the train back home, I'd timed it nicely for getting back directly without having to walk back from Urmston. A wedding party had booked the station bar, the smell of burgers on the barbecue reminded me it was teatime.

Along the Croall

Marsh helleborine

It was a bright, if cloudy, day and agreeably warm. A couple of black-necked grebes had spent the past couple of days on the lodges at Moses Gate Country Park, I thought I'd have a look to see if they were about and then drift about and see where I found myself.

I got the 524 from Bolton Bus Station and got off at the entrance to the country park. Blackbirds and blackcaps sang either side of the road. As I walked down to the car park I decided to have a look at the river, the Croall, and I surprised a kingfisher which shot up into the canopy of one of the riverside trees.

Crompton Lodge

There was no sign of the black-necked grebes on the lodges. I took my time looking, my reckoning being that if after scanning round the big pool for quarter of an hour I could overlook a tufted duck I could just as easily have overlooked the grebes, especially considering how long they can stay underwater. I hadn't, but it's as well to check. Mute swans and mallards mugged passersby by the car park. Canada geese and more mallards dozed under trees. The black-headed gulls kept away from the raft of herring gulls and lesser black-backs over on the other side. And all the while a flock of sand martins and a couple of swallows hawked low over the water.

Great crested grebe

A great crested grebe sat on her nest in the middle of the pool. A nearby coots' nest was being used as a rallying point by the owners whenever the tiny chicks started to wander too far. Another coot was sat on a nest under the trees. All the mallard ducklings were very nearly full-grown.

Red-eyed damselfly
The chappie on the left is a water lily beetle of the genus Donacia.

Brown hawkers and a Southern hawker patrolled the lodges. Damselflies swarmed over the lily pads in the smaller lodges. Most of them were red-eyed damselflies, I've not knowingly seen them before so I made sure to get a good look at them to get my eye in. A few black-tailed skimmers hawked low over the water or sunned themselves on the paths. 

Common blue damselfly

Red-eyed damselflies

Black-tailed skimmers

I wandered back to the river and walked along to join this end of the Kingfisher Trail which starts up in Jumbles Country Park. Meadow browns and small tortoiseshells fluttered around the meadows while carrion crows, blackbirds and magpies fossicked about in the grass.

River Croall 

The Kingfisher Trail 

In the woods I joined the trail, I have an unerring capacity for finding staircases in woodlands. It's a mostly flat walk thereafter so my knees were in a forgiving mood. Blackbirds and blackcaps sang in the trees and robins silently disappeared into the wayside. It seemed odd to have all that shingle bankside and small rapids on the river and have no wagtails or dippers but it was so. At one intersection of paths four song thrushes had a singing duel which baffled the senses, particularly as one of them had a few notes from a police siren in its repertoire.

River Croall

A little further on a buzzard circled high over the woodland and a jay called from the other side of the river. The path turned into an opening in the trees by the river. A kingfisher, which had been sitting in a tree on the near bank shot across into the trees on the other. Blackcaps, blackbirds, chiffchaffs and wrens sang in the trees as I walked along. Then I was through the gate and out of the trees and on Nob End.

Goldfinches twittered about and whitethroats sang in the bushes and carrion crows rummaged about in the meadows. Large whites, meadow browns and small tortoiseshells fluttered about and brown hawkers and Southern hawkers patrolled the landscape.

Nob End is notable for its unusual flora, being very different to the surrounding area due to the land having been contaminated by the soda works that was here in Victorian times. Most of Greater Manchester's natural riches have industrial origins. I didn't think I'd have much luck spotting anything unusual, I expected that in my ignorance of plant life I'd overlook the specialities. I was wrong on both counts.

Marsh helleborines 

At first I was just seeing clovers and vetches. Then I started seeing the orchids. And more orchids. Most of the purple spires were unknown to me, they turned out to be fragrant orchids. I found a few common spotted orchids, and a few I presume were more common spotted orchids. And there were drifts of marsh helleborines. Which I also had to look up. I was frankly a bit overwhelmed by my bafflement. I later bumped into a chap who asked me if I knew where the bee orchids were. I admitted I had no idea but pointed him towards the meadow full of orchids.

Marsh helleborine

Fragrant orchids

Marsh helleborine

Common spotted orchid

Fragrant orchid

Common spotted orchid

Giant hogweed 

I crossed the river and walked into Farnworth, more blackbirds, song thrushes, goldfinches and wrens singing me on my way. The train back to Manchester left the station as I walked by, I hadn't thought to try going for that, I was too busy trying to work out the best way through the maze of back streets to get to the main road for the bus. I didn't have long to wait for the next bus, the 37 to Manchester. As we passed Blackleach Country Park my legs said no, let's not get off for a walk round. I changed in Swinton for the bus to the Trafford Centre. Along the way my legs said no to a walk round Worsley Woods either. I must be getting old.

Wellacre Country Park

Small skipper on clover, Green Hill

I don't know what was wrong with me today, I just couldn't get started. In the end I dragged myself out for a teatime walk around Wellacre Country Park, starting at Green Hill so I could catch up with the bits I missed last week.

Starting off up Green Hill 

Green Hill was fairly quiet. Blackbirds and a chiffchaff sang by the Merseyview entrance. Ringlets skittered around in the grass and clover on the rise. 

Green Hill 

Out on the open hillside goldfinches, greenfinches and carrion crows flew to and fro but didn't seem to settle. Whitethroats sang from their hawthorns and bramble patches, dunnocks sang from nettle patches and a couple of song thrushes sang in the trees by the railway line. Each nettle patch was a combat zone as red admirals defended their territories against intruders, which apparently included me.

Red admiral

Dutton's Pond 

Dutton's Pond was in a quietly convivial mood, the family of coots all together at one side and a dozen mallards gathered together at the other. It took me longer than it should have to find the moorhens pottering about amongst the water lilies. An oystercatcher called loudly as it passed overhead.

Long-tailed tits bounced about in the trees by Dutton's Pond. As I walked down to Jack Lane blackbirds, blackcaps, goldfinches, chiffchaffs and woodpigeons sang in the trees. One of the willows on the railway embankment had fallen over the path making it passable for those of us who can duck but not for the horses and riders that frequent this way.

A willow cracked

Jack Lane Nature Reserve 

Nearly all the Jack Lane songscape came from the trees round the edges. Blackbirds, song thrushes and a chiffchaff counted for the bulk of it, with contributions from blackcaps, wrens and a whitethroat. I got tutted at by reed warblers deep in the reeds, just the one did any singing and that more in the nature of quietly keeping in practice. An oystercatcher flew over from the water treatment works, they must both have been feeding on the filtration pans. Judging by their trajectory they must have been heading to Trafford Park or Salford Quays to roost.

A great spotted woodpecker flew over from the nature reserve and into the top of one of the trees by the lane. Swallows zipped low over the stables and fields by Jack Lane and I could see the sand martins feeding over Irlam Locks. While the swallows tended to do long straight runs the sand martins did figures of eight, rising and falling with the loops.

Wellacre Country Park 

Wellacre Wood 

Wellacre Wood was quiet but busy, or as quiet as a singing song thrush may allow. Blackbirds and dunnocks silently rummaged about the woodland floor, the robins were extremely shy and retiring, more often than not small shapes disappearing into the undergrowth. Unlike the wrens which jumped out to sing me out of their territories. Overhead, magpies and woodpigeons clattered about in the trees.

I emerged from the wood, passing another family of long-tailed tits in one of the hawthorns, and walked into Town's Gate for the bus home. I'd managed to break my lethargy but I was gagging for a pot of tea.

Second quarter 2026

Ruff, Marshside
It's always a treat to see the males in their full breeding plumage pomp.

It was one of those Springs with days that changed season by the hour. Overall April was dry and windy, most of the sunny days tempered by cool winds. May was cool, grey and windy, not optimal for the peak of the breeding season. Then suddenly, literally overnight, the end of May was full-on Summer. For nearly a week. The first three weeks of flaming June felt like late February with hay fever. Then it turned on a sixpence and the sun was cracking the pavements again. Sudden change has become a feature of our weather recently.

Black-tailed godwit, Marshside

The birdwatching was steady-ish. The statistics look fair enough but there were times when I felt I was frantically hurtling about not getting very far with anything or getting to All The Places, etc. and was giving myself a good nagging about it. Which is my normal frame of mind late Spring, early Summer. I could worry for England and I don't know how I have the brass neck to tell my father off for the same fault. This isn't a job, it's a pastime to keep body and mind active in the flickering light of early middle age. And by and large the pastime's doing okay. The birdwatching was steady-ish.

Mandarin ducks, Etherow Country Park
Yes, there are lots of photos of mandarin ducks in my blog. It's my blog, I can put lots of photos of mandarin ducks in here.

I got to lots of places, I got to visit some new places, I saw lots of birds and heard more which were hiding in the bushes and managed to identify a good many of both. As far as the birdwatching goes, all was well with the world. And I got to combine an exceedingly pleasant seaside stroll with a life tick.

Herring gulls, shelduck and Western reef heron (front right), Foryd Bay

Western reef heron wouldn't have been on my radar in a month of Sundays. A first for Britain within easy reach by public transport hanging round for days was irresistible, so I didn't resist it. The next week it relocated, shuffling about Conwy and Llandudno, which would have been an easier trip out but I'd have missed out on splendid Menai Strait landscapes. By the end of the month it had relocated to Pembrokeshire to make sure all the Welsh birdwatchers got a chance to see it.

Sand martins, Irlam Locks

And so to the numbers… 

The year list to date is 194, my life list 392, and British list 313.  And I got around a bit:

• Caernarvonshire 47 species
• Cheshire & Wirral 122
• Cumbria 69
• Denbighshire 34
• Derbyshire 50
• Flintshire 31
• Greater Manchester 122
• Lancashire & North Merseyside 147
• Staffordshire 20
• Yorkshire 86

I'm easily meeting my 100 species a month target and the 200 species year list looks doable. I think I'll try and spend the dog days trying to get a bit further afield to stretch my legs. Which will probably end up with my spending a month getting no further away than Cob Kiln Wood. Well, we'll see how it goes.

Pheasants, Leighton Moss

Pied flycatcher, Keg Wood

Gannet, Bempton Cliffs

Martin Mere

Black-headed gulls

Sure as eggs, one of the young blue tits has tagged onto the troupe of sparrows. That should see it through the Winter. I noticed it as I was getting ready to go out. I hadn't got round to visiting Martin Mere yet this month, after planning to do so last week, so I made sure to take precautions for the hayfever, slapped on the factor thingy and headed out that way.

By Red Cat Lane 

It was a cloudy and unpromising sort of day, ideal for walking at this time of year. Crowds of jackdaws and woodpigeons rummaged about in the fields beside Red Cat Lane. Skylarks sang in the distance, blackbirds and wrens sang in the hedgerows, house sparrows and goldfinches fussed about the gardens and farmsteads. I don't know what it was that made me look twice at a sparrow on a telegraph wire but I'm glad I did, it feels like lifetimes since I last saw a tree sparrow down this way. Five minutes later I was being given the raspberry by a corn bunting and escorted out of its patch. I had honestly given up on both of them here. I'm glad to be wrong.

Corn poppies

Curlew Lane

I had a quick nosy up Curlew Lane. Swallows and house martins hawked over the fields and a few dozen black-headed gulls and lesser black-backs were following the ploughed a few fields down. It wasn't my day for yellow wagtails.

The field across the road from Martin Mere was carpeted with black-headed gulls, adults and their tea-stained youngsters alike. There were plenty more to come as I walked in.

Black-headed gulls and shelduck

As usual, I headed straight for the Discovery Hide. A chap already in there said: "There's a sandpiper right in front of you if you're interested." It took me a minute to find it, from my angle there were a lot of dock leaves in the way. Ironically, I got better views when it moved away onto the little spit in front of the hide.

Common sandpiper

Common sandpiper

Common sandpiper

Black-headed gulls

There were still black-headed gulls nesting on the mere. Some of the chicks were tiny, most had fledged and were capable of at least some weak flight. Mallards and their tiny ducklings seemed intent on losing each other. The larger ducklings stuck to their parents (actually, this is a guess: as well as mallard ducklings wandering off at the drop of a hat and tagging along with whatever, the ducks have a habit of hedging their bets by laying a few eggs in other ducks' nests, and not always are they mallards'). Shelducks had near full-grown ducklings, coots and moorhens had everything from tiny chicks to full-grown in tow and some of the full-grown juvenile moorhens had been given babysitting duty. A few Canada geese and greylags mooched about over on the far bank with a couple of common terns and some oystercatchers and lapwings. Otherwise, besides all these crowds of birds, it was fairly quiet.

Juvenile moorhen and chick

Black-headed gulls and mallard

Black-headed gulls

By the Hale Hide

Blackcaps, wrens and a song thrush sang in the trees as I walked over to the Ron Barker Hide. Titmice and robins were shadows in the undergrowth. I popped into the Hale Hide to get a different perspective on the mere and see what was on the little pool there. A few mallards and their ducklings pootled about and coots and moorhens fussed. Way over in the distance I could see a heron perched on a gatepost in the reedbeds. It took a while to work out what the smaller, darker figure was on the adjacent gatepost — I will admit I got my hopes up that the glossy ibis had returned — but eventually it woke up and turned out to be a juvenile heron.

The Mere View Hide 

The Mere View Hide was very quiet indeed save for a Cetti's warbler singing in the brambles and a sedge warbler singing in the flag irises.

The Ron Barker Hide was quietish. Families of well grown mallards and shelducks drifted about on the pools and tiny tufted ducklings dibbled about with their parents in the brook. Swallows dashed about with gay abandon. I looked in vain for the whooper swans I saw last time. The large white shape on the bank was two great white egrets sleeping side by side. Families of greylags grazed the near banks, Canada geese were in the tall grass with the longhorn cattle. I could see no cattle egrets about.

Great white egrets, tufted ducklings, coot, moorhen and mallards

A female marsh harrier was busy, it flew in stage left and was greeted by two immature birds. She rose up in the air, the two young birds following. She dropped whatever it was she had in her talons and one of the youngsters caught it in mid air. She did a couple more food drops while I was in the hide. While she was away the youngsters joined another couple of young birds I hadn't noticed sitting in a tree at the back of the reedbed.

One of the harriers passing close by caused a sudden appearance of a white object at the top of the reeds in the pool on the right. I noticed it and had a look, expecting it to be the head of one of the whoopers having a look round. It turned out to be a cattle egret sat on the back of a cow hidden by the reeds. Another pass-by saw three cattle egrets stick their heads up and judging by the erect crests and jabbing bills of the two adults they weren't best pleased at the harriers.

Cattle egret

On the way back I had to stop a moment while a water shrew ran across the path and into cover.

The Harrier Hide from the Reedbed Walk 

The afternoon was young so I headed over to the Reedbed Walk. The path by the United Utilities Hide was closed for resurfacing so I followed the path round from the Harrier Hide. I was very conscious that I'd been a couple of hours in a wetland reserve and hadn't seen any dragonflies. I quickly bumped into a handful of common blue damselflies, thin gruel after yesterday's Hodbarrow banquet. There was a thin background songscape, a few Reed buntings, a couple of Cetti's warblers, a reed warbler, the clamour of black-headed gulls, and the quiet fussing about of mallards, shelducks and coots talking in their sleep on the pools behind the reeds.

Black-headed gulls

Gatekeeper

For all the weather was dark grey and a bit cool there were loads of butterflies about. The waysides between the Discovery Hide and Rob Barker's were busy with meadow browns with a few red admirals, small tortoiseshells and commas fluttering about. The reedbeds were heaving with gatekeepers. A few red admirals and small tortoiseshells were about and the excellent year for painted ladies continued but there were two dozen gatekeepers for every other butterfly. The dragonflies were few and far between and all black-tailed skimmers.

The Reedbed Walk 

A working party with strimmers passed by in their little off-road vehicle (not quite a car but significantly more than a golf buggy). I'm putting years on myself admitting I thought: "Daktari" as they passed. For once I felt a bit self-conscious putting my mask on as I passed them working, it looked a bit pointed. Unfortunately the hayfever had already kicked in badly and I didn't want to give it any more encouragement.

Teal and black-headed gulls

A few teal and lapwings fed on the remains of the pool at the Gordon Taylor Hide. Teal are so secretive this time of year I rarely see the males going into eclipse plumage, a couple of them were well into the moult here. A few of the nesting black-headed gulls still had very young chicks, nearly all the older birds were flightworthy if clumsy. I looked in vain for any waders that weren't lapwings or oystercatchers.

A lot of black-headed gulls were making a racket overhead. A different gull call stuck out from the noise, something more like the sound of a penguin at the zoo. I was quite pleased to find the pair of Mediterranean gulls almost immediately I looked up. I was running lucky today. Even luckier in fact: I heard a chaffinch-like song coming from the hawthorns in the out-of-bounds part of the reedbed and just at the point I'd convinced myself that no, it wasn't a lesser whitethroat, it was a chaffinch having singing practice a chaffinch started singing from the trees by the water treatment works to remind me what they really sound like. It never fails to surprise me that when you compare the songs of common and lesser whitethroats it's the lesser whitethroat that sounds like Tom Jones.

At the Rees Hide

At the Rees Hide the pool was a distant memory.

Walking back to the visitor centre I was accompanied by a Southern hawker. There were plenty of midges and mozzies about so I was happy for it to make inroads on any coming my way.

Red Cat Lane 
Winter Hill had disappeared behind a bank of rain. It should be behind those trees.

The cosmic balance has to be respected. I hadn't gone far once I left Martin Mere before the heavens opened. There's some shelter on the way to New Lane so I could have walked that way and got the slightly later train, the trouble there was that depending which site I checked that train may or may not have been cancelled and as they only run every two hours it was a chance I was unwilling to take. There's no shelter between Martin Mere and Burscough Bridge and its half-hourly train service so there was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

Corn bunting

I'm very glad I did: the corn bunting gave me another good telling off and I spotted why it was so agitated. It's more than twenty years since I last saw a juvenile corn bunting.

Juvenile corn bunting