Mosses

New Moss Wood 

What to do on a sunny Bank Holiday Monday? A couple of ideas didn't survive bus schedules and a horror of city centre bank holiday rail mayhem. I got the first train to Irlam that wasn't affected by an incident in Liverpool and went for a walk on the Salford Mosses.

A medley of birdsong was the almost constant backing track for the day. As I walked to Moss Road, woodpigeons, robins, dunnocks and blackbirds sang in the gardens and street trees. At the allotment they were joined by great tits, goldfinches, chaffinches, a blackcap, a chiffchaff, a coal tit and a drumming great spotted woodpecker. 

The path to the old railway junction 

I crossed Moss Road for a nosy at the hedgerows along the path to the old Wigan to Altrincham line. Blue tits, wrens and a song thrush joined the songscape. Everything went quiet as a female sparrowhawk circled over, a chaffinch calling the alarm,  and then it drifted over to New Moss Wood. The all clear lasted a minute, she powered back and headed into Cadishead. The singers paid not a jot of notice of the buzzard that floated low overhead and into the wood.

New Moss Wood 

The songscape in New Moss Wood was the same but quieter, more spread out, and the singers that much harder to spot. Unlike the three buzzards spiralling round each other over the wood, calling all the while, before going their separate ways. Most of the green in the wood was provided by nettles and it didn't take long before I met the first of an army of peacock butterflies. There were plenty of nettles to go round, which didn't stop one of the peacocks attacking any small tortoiseshells that drifted into its territory. There were quite a few brimstone butterflies and my attempts to photograph them gave me a selection of out-of-focus photos of dandelions. Pheasants, carrion crows and jackdaws called from the fields, jays and magpies from the woodland canopy and a willow warbler sang in the birches by the car park.

Dryad's saddle

New Moss Wood 

Goldfinches and house sparrows sang in the hedgerows along Moss Road and lapwings were setting up territories on newly-sown fields. The flocks of rooks, jackdaws and carrion crows rummaging about the fields didn't help the lapwings' nerves any.

Little Woolden Moss 

Little Woolden Moss was quiet, in a Canada geese, mallards and black-headed gulls having a doze sort of way. The reserve was phenomenally busy with cyclists, which is a bit challenging on such narrow paths but we coexisted amiably enough. The chiffchaffs in the trees by the Moss Road entrance were replaced by the willow warblers of the birch and willow scrub.

Little Woolden Moss 

The Eastern pool on Little Woolden Moss 

A kestrel hovered over the field by Lavender Lane, ignored by a cock pheasant escorting his lady over the open ground. I didn't expect a male stonechat to bob up out of a bramble patch, it was a nice surprise. A pair of stock doves were more predictable but still very nice to see.

Astley Road 

The walk down Astley Road into Irlam was fairly quiet. Chiffchaffs sang broken calls as they wound down for the day while blackbirds, robins and a mistle thrush got their second wind and started singing ready for evening. A curlew called as it flew low overhead. Chaffinches, goldfinches and greenfinches quietly rummaged about in the hedgerows and treetops, linnets bustled about in the trees. A singing yellowhammer by the motorway came as a lot of a relief, they're very few and far between these days. 

I had a while to wait for my train home. While I was waiting I was serenaded by songbirds. A blackbird, robins and a wren were the key vocalists with contributions from chaffinches, goldfinches and great tits and a constant backing throb supplied by collared doves and woodpigeons. Which was nice.

Lazy day

I woke up feeling like the wreckage of a beached hulk. For the first time in a couple of weeks I'd missed the dawn chorus, I just bet they'd all decided to make a special effort and I'd missed an epic session. A woodpigeon sang down the chimney to remind me what I had been missing.

Definitely missing from the school playing field all day were any gulls. Thirty-odd woodpigeons took residence and quietly grazed while jackdaws and magpies bustled about. The rooks, when they're about at all, don't tend to linger lately as they don't like to stray too far from the rookery on Bradley Lane

I had to get a quick shop in this afternoon. The prize for the first fledgling of the year goes to the young magpie begging from its parent on the station platform. 

Leighton Moss

Dabchicks

I had slept the sleep of one who was finally dozing off at three in the morning when they got a 'phone call from somebody saying they couldn't sleep. I wanted to get some birdwatching done before Storm Dave came out to play so I got me an old man's explorer ticket and headed for Silverdale, the idea being to do a hit and run at Leighton Moss before the weather turned iffy and take a circuitous route home to see what I could see.

There seemed to be a lot of pheasants and roe deer about as the train went to Preston. At Preston we had an interesting interlude where everyone decamped from the Barrow train and got onto the York train which became the Barrow train and everyone decamped from the York train to get on the Barrow train which became the York train. No, me neither. Anyway, we were only a few minutes late getting to Silverdale and we'd passed through the belt of pouring rain and the weather had become mild and gloomy, grey and misty.

Chaffinch

The hideout was busy with mallards and chaffinches. I hung about for a bit just in case a marsh tit might want to make an appearance but it wasn't happening. So I wandered round to Lilian's Hide where a little gull had been reported first thing.

Dabchicks

The black-headed gulls had settled their nesting territories on the rafts and islands. Their cries were drowned out by the hinneying calls of dabchicks as two pairs squabbled in front of the hide.

Dabchicks

Dabchicks

Dabchick, one of the males charging at the other pair

Dabchicks, a riposte

Dabchicks, a victory yell

The black-headed gulls were positively sedate in comparison. A few mallards and fewer teal dozed by the water's edge. A pair of shovelers dozed by the hide and I nearly missed a couple of redshanks asleep in the grass. The coots and pochards swam about in pairs, the tufted ducks in small groups of a handful of birds, a couple of greylags might have been a pair, a mute swan slept on its own by the far reeds. A few sand martins zipped about over the pool, mostly at tree top height, seldom coming in lower.

Black-headed gulls

Three marsh harriers floated over the reedbed, all females, one immature and two adults. High above the misty hilltops a buzzard was being harassed by crows.

Moving on, I decided I'd head for the Causeway Hide. I've only given it a cursory look so far this year, I should do better, and if the little gull wasn't on Lilian's it might be on there.

The boardwalk to the causeway 

I kept an eye out for marsh tits as I walked over to the causeway but had no luck. There were plenty of chiffchaffs and Cetti's warblers and a water rail squealed from the reedbed as I reached the causeway.

Powdered ruffle lichen

The causeway

The weather was getting gloomier and more sand martins drifted in to hawk over the reedbeds and pools. I decided I wasn't going to push my luck with a walk down to the Lower Hide, I'd spend half an hour at the Causeway Hide then make tracks back to the station for the train.

Mute swan. cormorants and great black-backs

The water was high on the Causeway Pool but the great black-backs were determined they were loafing on the island come what may. A loose herd of mute swans drifted about, cormorants loafed and tufted ducks cruised about in lines. Black-headed gulls passed to and fro rarely bothering to stop. Coots were busy nest-building, chugging about the pool with lengths of reed. A great crested grebe fished just in front of the pool, one time it emerged from the water just in front of a coot which dropped its bit of reed in a panic and silently bustled away. Had it not been in nest-building mode it would have made a hell of a racket.

Coot

Cormorant

Great crested grebe

Great crested grebe

On the way back I noticed some little Potentillas flowering in the wall by the road. It felt early for them to be barren strawberries. A chap passing by as I was taking photos checked on Google Lens and got the answer barren strawberry. And so they proved to be when I got home and checked the photos with my reference books. And it turned out that they weren't all that early, I've just not been noticing them until late in their season.

Barren strawberry

I got back to the station as the train to Corkicle got in (there's rail track work going on so it doesn't get through to Carlisle). I got on and got off at Arnside to have five minutes' look at the Kent Estuary before the Manchester train came in. The tide was high and the bank just upstream was littered with curlews and jackdaws.

Kent Estuary at Arnside

On the way back there didn't look to be a lot on the pools by the coastal pools. A few shelducks were disturbed by the train, a great white egret stalked a drain, some little egrets loafed on islands by feeding mute swans and I spotted a couple of avocets. I'll have to make a visit for a proper look here this month.

The rain kept off until I got home. I made a pot of tea, drank half a cup and crashed out asleep. Still, it had been a very good day's birdwatching in very uncertain weather.

Wigan bumper bundle

Reed bunting, Amberswood 

I've been missing out on the passage of common scoters through the region so I thought I'd go over to Scotman's Flash in Wigan where at least one's been settled for a couple of days. There's also a scaup that's been lingering, I don't "need" either for the year list but it would be good to see them and it was a nice day for a walk by the flashes. I got the 132 to Wigan but as we were getting into Hindley I decided it was too nice a day to spend caught up in Wigan town centre traffic so I got off at Gregory Street and walked to the flashes via Amberswood and Ince Cemetery. I can wait for a rainy day to go and see if the golden colossus statue is back in his rightful place.

Amberswood, walking in from Manchester Road 

I'd barely set foot onto the path into Amberswood when I was hit by a cacophony of birdsong. A blackcap competed with a robin and a chiffchaff and they were joined by a dunnock, a wren and a coal tit. I hadn't gone far when a blackbird joined in and a song thrush could be heard further in the wood. It didn't take long for great tits and blue tits to make themselves known, though the blue tits were generally too busy rummaging about in the gorse bushes to get much singing done.

Gorse 

Amberswood 

Things were a little quieter as I left the hedgerows and walked through the woods to the lake. A distant great spotted woodpecker drummed in the trees. A nuthatch drowned out the songs of robins, coal tits and chiffchaffs for a brief moment. And for once the wrens quietly went about their business, at least until they decided that human passers-by needed singing off the territory.

Reed bunting

Reed buntings had the run of the feeders at the corner of the lake, a couple of chaffinches briefly passing by. The titmice and goldfinches were staying in the trees. I couldn't work out if it was one or two Cetti's warblers in the reeds, there was definitely one wandering up and down and the possible second further along might have been the same bird following me down the path.

Mallards and mute swans 

Amberswood Lake 

Mallards, coots, mallards and a great crested grebe were taking it easy on the lake. Unlike the black-headed gulls which spent more time quarrelling than bathing or loafing. Some of the first-Winter birds were starting to get their brown hoods, in contrast to the immature brown wing feathers.

One of the dragonfly ponds 

Amberswood 

I took the path towards Ince and Spring View. The sun brought out the butterflies as well as the singing birds: peacock butterflies fluttered about the verges or basked on top of bramble bushes, there were far fewer brimstones and they kept to the open rides.

Jays

Two pairs of jays were disputing the ownership of a hawthorn bush. There was no shortage of hawthorn bushes but they both wanted this one. The usual raucous calls were subdued and sounded all the more menacing for it. Crests were raised and fluffed up in anger and the blue patches on their wings were made vividly prominent. One pair slunk quietly into the depths of the bush while the other continued to voice and signal their claims to it.

Jays

The path passed through open areas with reedy dragonfly ponds and patches of light wet woodland. I kept an eye and ear out for willow tits but it wasn't my day for it. There were more singing coal tits than great tits, and far fewer singing blue tits. Long-tailed tits skittered about hawthorn bushes in pairs. Every so often there'd be greenfinches or goldfinches in the tree tops, a couple of times it was a couple of siskins. Way overhead a pair of buzzards called as they circled each other on the thermals. Approaching Spring View the little fishing lodges had coots and mallards pottering about, the largest also had a mute swan that seemed to be on its own.

Ince Cemetery 

I'd remembered the paths right and emerged onto Wigan Road opposite the cemetery. I crossed and walked down Cemetery Road, over the West Coast Main Line and through the little industrial estate where the road became the path through to the Wigan Flashes. Chiffchaffs, blackcaps and robins sang in the trees as I walked by.

By Turner's Flash 

Turner's Flash is heard rather than seen along this path. I was hearing a lot of black-headed gulls, coots and Canada geese behind the trees. I heard them all the more when a buzzard left a pathside tree and floated over that way. Jays and magpies called in the trees and woodpigeons clattered about. Blackbirds, robins and song thrushes rummaged about in the undergrowth and the singing great tits took over from the coal tits.

I bumped into another birdwatcher when I reached the canal. He'd seen a couple of whooper swans on Scotman's Flash as well as three common scoters swimming together on the far side. As we were talking both of ours first orange tip butterfly flew by.

Scotman's Flash 

Reed buntings and a Cetti's warbler sang fitfully in the reedbed by Scotman's Flash. A few coots and great crested grebes pottered about this corner of the flash, mallards lurked under the near bank. Over the far side Canada geese and tufted ducks drifted about by the bank and at least one Canada goose was nesting under the trees. 

The whooper swans were distant

The flash opened up as I walked along and now I could see the two whooper swans hiding in plain sight amongst a loose herd of mute swans and a raft of herring gulls and lesser black-backs. Tufted ducks and coots drifted about, the tufties in small rafts and the coots in ones and twos. The three distant "coots" swimming in tight formation became three common scoters as I walked further up the path. I'd kept an eye on them as being something unusual as three coots swimming that close together would have pecked each other to death. There were more cormorants actively fishing than loafing.

Scotman's Flash 

A scaup has been reported here every day recently. The chap I'd been speaking to earlier was walking back and we let on. We compared notes and I mentioned I hadn't had any luck finding the scaup. He'd seen it and was determined that I should see it too. Luckily it hadn't gone far from where he'd first seen it and he picked it up in his telescope. It was bathing just by a group of tufties by the far bank, I'd been seeing it but unable to identify it as anything different. I bade him thanks and he went on his way.

Pearson's Flash 

I toddled into Poolstock, keeping an eye on the flashes either side of the canal. I was getting better, though distant, views of the scoters on Scotman's Flash. A pair of gadwalls were with the mute swans on Pearson's Flash. There were just mallards on Westwood Flash.  Meanwhile, on the canal, a mute swan was busy showing its irritation with pairs of Canada geese.

Poolstock 

I'd had a long, meandering walk and was flagging a bit. I decided I'd get the 639 to the bus station rather than walking down the canal into Wallgate, there was one due in five minutes. This turned out to be a tactical error: the five minutes became twelve and stayed due in twelve minutes for the next twenty, in the end it was thirty-seven minutes late. The sunk cost fallacy is my failing at bus stops, I've too often given up and had my bus sail past fifty yards down the road. I got the train back from Wigan and made the connection with the bus home. I wasn't going to let one bus spoil a very nice day's outing.

Elton Reservoir

Black-headed gull
A first-Winter bird

It had the promise of being a fine day and four kittiwakes had been reported at Elton Reservoir, which was long overdue a return visit, so I headed over to try my luck. I wouldn't be terribly surprised, though disappointed, if they'd moved on, they don't linger if the weather's fine. Still, you never know.

I got off the 471 bus and walked down to the sailing club car park. Half a dozen ring-necked parakeets were hogging the feeders, much to the disgust of the assembled greenfinches, goldfinches, chaffinches, house sparrows and great tits waiting their turn. The trees were full of the songs of blackbirds, chiffchaffs, wrens and robins. The calls of black-headed gulls came loudly from the reservoir.

Elton Reservoir 

I had a quick look over the reservoir from the bridge over the brook. The usual mute swans, Canada geese and mallards loafed at the waterside. On the grass half a dozen of last year's cygnets were being given their marching orders, literally, by an irate cob that might well have been a parent. On the water black-headed gulls squabbled with each other, herring gulls and lesser black-backs loafed and bathed, and coots chugged about purposefully though it wasn't evident what that purpose was. My first sand martins of the year swooped over the reservoir and dodged around passing black-headed gulls.

I reckoned my best bet for checking out the gulls was to walk along the South bank of the reservoir. I'd be looking into the sun as I walked along but looking over the reservoir to my side and behind I'd be getting a good light for picking out any gulls looking a bit different. It also had the advantage that the view wouldn't be impeded by trees and it wouldn't be so muddy underfoot.

Great crested grebes, male at front

Whichever side you were walking, everything away from the sailing club was a bit distant. Except the skittish pied wagtail skittering along the wall and the very flighty grey wagtail on the reservoir margin. Down the bank away from the reservoir greenfinches and reed buntings sang from the hedgerows. A flock of half a dozen oystercatchers flew in to feed in one of the fields.

Tufted ducks 

I wasn't seeing any kittiwakes. There were scores of black-headed gulls coming and going. Herring gulls chased each other about. Lesser black-backs struck poses on buoys. But nothing that made me look twice and wonder what it might be. Even a distant quartet of goldeneyes stood out from the lines of tufted ducks punctuating the reservoir.

Looking back towards the sailing club

The outflow from the reservoir to the Bolton and Bury Canal 

I passed the farm and walked to the end of the reservoir. A few pairs of teal drifted about with the coots, mallards and tufties and a couple of pairs of Canada geese muttered ominously as they cruised about. A pair of lapwings drifted over before heading back into their field.

The path to Withins Reservoir 

The path to Withins Reservoir was wetter than the reservoir.

Withins Reservoir 

I returned to Elton Reservoir and walked along the Northern margin, primarily in the hopes of picking up some warblers other than chiffchaffs in the hedgerows and the trees by the creek. Robins, chiffchaffs and chaffinches sang in the trees along the bank and in the hedgerows. I was getting better views of the goldeneyes and of a pair of great crested grebes cruising towards the creek. And I was walking armpit deep in mud. I don't know why I only ever ask myself whether this would be a good idea after I've trudged and slipped through a hundred yards of this muck. Possibly because at the start I'd just shrug and ask what would be the worst that could happen. And yes, I know the worst that could happen: I'm of that generation that was trained from an early age to beware of quicksand when on country walks. The going was truly atrocious. I was mildly chastising my judgement as I struggled to walk up a slope of deep, clinging mud when I heard my first willow warbler of the year.

Goldeneyes 

I reached terra firma at the top of the creek, beat off as much mud off my boots as I could on the concrete path and used a patch of brambles to scrape the mud off my trousers bottoms. That was me pretty much done. I walked through the housing estate to the main road, got the bus into Bury and thence home. I hadn't seen any kittiwakes but I got a walk in and nudged the year list along a bit.

Elton Reservoir