Mersey Valley again

Banded demoiselle, by Kenworthy Woods

The great tits brought their youngsters into the garden this morning. The parents spent a lot of their time ferrying insects picked off the Pyracantha flowers to the youngsters shivering their wings in the rowan tree. The rowan tree's serving as a kindergarten for titmice this year.

It hadn't warmed down much so I parked the plans for another day. Then between my leaving the house and my arriving at the station the train to Warrington was cancelled so that knocked another idea on the head. So I went over to the Trafford Centre and played bus station bingo. The 248 to the airport was first out. That gave me the options of Wellacre Country Park, Carrington Moss, Banky Meadow, Priory Gardens or Wythenshawe Park. Priory Gardens offered more shade and I could then move on to Sale Water Park and see where I go from there.

Blackbird

I got off the bus and walked into Priory Gardens. Most of the woodland locally was planted within my lifetime, the gardens were abandoned well before that and has a lot of mature trees and not a lot of understory except at the margins. Blackbirds, blackcaps, robins and chiffchaffs sang in the trees and bushes by the main path at the side. A pair of mistle thrushes held court further in, rattling their displeasure at my passing by.

Priory Gardens 

I meandered my way back to the main path and then onto the patch of meadow at the corner by the motorway. I'd hoped there might be a whitethroat about but I was disappointed. Blackcaps and chiffchaffs sang in the hedgerows. Speckled woods and holly blues fluttered about the woodland margins, large whites and common blues across the meadow. At last! My first common blue damselflies of the year zipped about the brambles in the hedgerows.

Common blue damselfly

That small patch had a remarkable miscellany of intertwining brambles in flower, including one with big, semi-double flowers. Any time I despair of the ludicrous complexities of gull watching I think of botanists studying brambles.

Bramble
A semi-double form

Bramble
A narrow-petalled form

I crossed the motorway into Sale Water Park. It being the Whit Week school holidays it was bedlam though the mute swans and Canada geese were making a living by it so long as they didn't mind sharing the lake with kids and dogs. The car park was swarming with common blue damselflies.

Common blue damselfly

Barrow Brook 

I walked round and joined the path by Barrow Brook and suddenly everything was a lot quieter. Or would have been had the parakeets turned it down a bit. Blackbirds, blackcaps, dunnocks and wrens were doing most of the heavy lifting with the singing with chiffchaffs, robins and a song thrush doing the backing vocals. Blue tits fidgeted about in the trees and a family of long-tailed tits worked their way through the willows by the brook.

I emerged blinking into the sunlight at Jackson's Boat. There was a nice breeze blowing down the river so I decided I'd walk down to Kenworthy Woods, the advantage being that this was the side of the river with some shade. I was grateful for it, too, despite the breeze.

River Mersey 

The river was low after a dry Spring. Mallards and Canada geese loafed by the waterside and a cormorant swam downstream. Whitethroats and blue tits fidgeted about in the willows on the bank, more whitethroats sang on the golf course with blackcaps and chiffchaffs. Banded demoiselles fluttered about the bank, the green females out in the open, the dramatic blue males tending to keep to the cover of vegetation.

Banded demoiselle

A grey wagtail was where I expected it to be. Less expected were the half a dozen sand martins nesting in the same place. The sand martins hawked low over the river, it was rare that they rose above the bank. The top of the bank was busy with banded demoiselles, painted ladies, large whites and common blues, making up in numbers for a dismal first half of the month. A little further along a pair of mandarin ducks loafed by the water. They're becoming a lot more common on our stretch of the Mersey.

Mandarin ducks

Latest contender for the giant butterbur leaf of the year

Hand for scale

Approaching Kenworthy Woods 

Swifts and swallows hawked over the river as I wandered on and into Kenworthy Woods. The woodland songscape was quieter, more dispersed but still a steady backing track to the walk. Blue tits and long-tailed trees fidgeted through the trees but there was a notable absence of great tits. My surprise at surprising a rabbit almost had me miss a bullfinch quietly exiting the scene stage left. 

Kenworthy Woods 

Brimstones and speckled woods fluttered about the woodside margins as I headed for the bus stop on the other side of the motorway, and an extended family of long-tailed tits stretched itself over the hawthorn bushes punctuating the complex of slip roads. I contemplated staying on the bus and having a wander round Alexandra Park but the convenience of the connection with my bus home at Hough End proved too alluring, much to the relief of a pair of feet desperate to get out of hot boots.

Mersey Valley

Speckled wood, Cob Kiln Wood
I think the fly is one of the Delia species.

It was a baking hot Bank Holiday Monday. I looked at the plans I had for the day and told myself not to be silly. It wasn't until mid-afternoon I set off for a walk, the worst excesses of the midday sun having burned its way through the record books. I decided I'd just have a gentle toddle over Stretford Meadows to see if any lesser whitethroats have turned up yet.

I got as far as the allotments. The wave of relief that swept over me the moment I got into the shade of the trees by the side persuaded me that it was probably not a good idea to go trekking over a mile-wide mound with no cover from the sun. Not today, any road. So I scuttled off back to Cob Kiln Wood to hide in the shadows.

Cob Kiln Wood 

An angry buzzing told me the willow tit was still about. Today's songscape included a great tit and a goldcrest. I decided not to cross the clearing this afternoon, choosing instead to take the path around it's perimeter. The song thrushes were persistent but distant so I could better hear the blackcaps, robins, wrens and chiffchaffs in the trees and bushes. And even see them every so often. Not quite as often as I was assailed by speckled woods. They had a mood on them today and were going after anything larger than a ladybird. I actually found some of the cuckoo pint today, I was at least a week late for the flowers.

Cuckoo pint 

Here and there the path broke out of the woodland into masses patches of cow parsley, hogweed and nettles and I felt less bad about the state of the back garden.

Hogweed (left), cow parsley (right) and path in betw

I wandered over to the river again. I had a bet with myself that there'd be two mallards and a carrion crow. There were three pairs of mallards, a pair of Canada geese and the goosander family downstream on the shoals.

Mallards

By this stage I had a cunning plan: I'd cross over, do a circuit of Banky Lane and Banky Meadow then cross back and walk the length of Cob Kiln Lane into Urmston and thence home. By my reckoning there'd be less than a hundred yards of the walk that wouldn't be in the shade. The plan was fouled somewhat by the combination of the heat and votive offerings to the Dog Shit Fairy. The offerings hanging from wayside twigs had matured fully in the sun. Worse yet, someone had had the bright idea of infusing the deep puddles in the path with yet more of them, like repellent tea bags. The smell was like a physical barrier, I turned on my heel and headed back to the river at a firm trot. I actually prefer the old days when dog shit was something you walked round and was dealt with efficiently by a combination of flies and the weather.

I still wanted a walk so I crossed the river and walked upstream on the bank. I'd barely passed under the Carrington Spur Road when the dipper shot upstream and disappeared under the bend. 

River Mersey 

At last the sunshine brought out the dragonflies. Banded demoiselles are the most common this time of year on the Mersey and there were plenty of them fluttering about by the waterside. Orange tips, large whites and painted ladies fluttered about the banks and sunbathed on the path as best could given the foot traffic 

Chiffchaffs, blackbirds and wrens did most of the singing in the hedgerows above the banks. Across the river a yellowhammer sang for a bit of bread and butter but made no specifications as to cheese. Grey wagtails fussed about the near bank, mallards dozed by the far back and swallows hawked low over the water. And overhead all the while there was a heavy traffic of jackdaws and woodpigeons.

Kickety Brook Local Nature Reserve 

The air in Kickety Brook Nature Reserve was still and oppressively muggy and the perfumes of elderflower and guelder rose hung heavy. A nuthatch kicked off the chorus and was joined by all the usual suspects except the titmice which quietly went about their business with scarcely the rustle of willow leaves. 

Stretford Meadows 

I crossed over the motorway onto Stretford Meadows. I was going to have that walk across the tops after all. Oh no I wasn't! I swiftly beat a retreat to the shade of the Transpennine Route and walked round to Newcroft Road. Whitethroats, dunnocks, song thrushes and wrens sang their taunts from the open country. I stuck to the shady world of blackbirds, robins, chiffchaffs, blackcaps and a garden warbler singing from hedgerows and brambles. I wasn't expecting to see a brown hawker so early in the season and it took me a while to process what I was seeing hawking over a patch of dog roses. A small drift of early purple orchids by the wayside told me I'll have to start having orchid walks over the meadows again.

Early purple orchids 

I was hot and weary and smelly when I got home — there's a reason why the cat used to sleep in the front garden in the hot weather. I still had the energy for another bat-hunting foray at the station later on, surely the weather"s warm enough for them now. Not a sausage, and for once I didn't get into conversation with passersby wondering what on earth I was doing. The usual convoy of lesser black-backs passed overhead on their way to Salford Quays as I walked home. The kestrel shooting across the school playing field was rather a lot more of a surprise.

Urmston

Goosanders and little egret, River Mersey

It was a coo what a scorcher bank holiday Saturday and I was feeling misanthropic so I binned any of the ideas for the day that involved public transport or the presence of people. Perhaps I was just tired, I was so 

 exhausted last night that I went to bed early and dozed off soon after the blackbird kicked in for the dawn chorus. So I had a teatime walk over to Cob Kiln Wood and thence into Urmston town centre and got the train for the two minute ride home.

Collared dove, Stretford
The collared dove and the woodpigeons take turns cooing down the chimney to sound bigger and bolder than they really are. Every so often they'll sing a duet and damned confusing it is, too.

Robins and blackbirds sang all the way as I walked past the station and the allotments. Collared doves and woodpigeons sang from rooftops, blackcaps and dunnocks from the hedges by the primary school and wrens from the motorway embankment. It had the makings of a noisy walk.

Walking into Cob Kiln Wood 

Parakeets added to the soundscape as I walked into Cob Kiln Wood. As I crossed the little bridge over Old Eeas Brook a titmouse churred at me as it bathed at the side of the brook. I had to look twice and even then I wasn't convinced until it flew up into the tree by the bridge to give me a good telling off. Whatever else I was expecting to find in the wood today I wasn't expecting a willow tit. I apologised and let it be, I walked on into the wood. As it turned out, the only titmouse I would see along the whole walk not mostly hidden by at least two layers of leaves would be this willow tit.

Cob Kiln Wood 

The wood smelled of elderflowers, the going over of may blossom and oak leaves. The little dragonfly pool was parched and cracked mud, the flag iris flowers hanging limply in the sun. I had missed the cuckoo pint flowers along the path, in fact I couldn't even see any leaves. Blackcaps, blackbirds, robins, chiffchaffs and wrens song, magpies rattled and parakeets screeched.

The electricity pylon clearing 

The electricity pylon clearing was surrounded by song thrushes, well nigh drowning out the songs of anything else. Blackbirds, robins and blackcaps tried their best from the trees, whitethroats from the hawthorn bushes, wrens from brambles and a garden warbler sang from the depths of a stand of dogwoods.

Cob Kiln Lane 

I dropped down into Cob Kiln Lane and walked to the river. Chiffchaffs, robins and blackbirds dominated the songscape along here. The river was low, with large parts of the steps of the weir exposed. I had a look to see if the usual grey wagtail was about and found, instead, a dipper.

Dipper
Not the best picture but given the light and the foliage in the way from any other angle it'll have to do as a record shot.

I walked over the bridge and looked at the river. Upstream there was nothing about. Downstream was a different story. A couple of pairs of mallards dabbled by the banks and down on the shoals at the bend in the river a pair of goosanders dozed in the company of a little egret while their small redheads splashed about by the Cheshire bank.

Looking downstream from the bridge
Back when the Mersey was the county boundary Cheshire was on the left, Lancashire on the right.

I debated walking on down Banky Lane and decided to walk back into Urmston.  Rather than walking the length of Cob Kiln Lane I struck on over the fields towards the bridge over Old Eeas Brook by the cemetery.

Song thrush

Every bush seemed to have a song thrush singing in it. Blackbirds and chiffchaffs sang from the trees on the margins and whitethroats and wrens sang from the brambles and nettles.

River Mersey 

As the path curved round I got a better view of the shoals of the river and noticed a heron lurking in the trees on the Lancashire bank. Sand martins hawked over the river. They used to have a big colony here on the Cheshire side but the bank collapsed about ten years ago. A smaller colony nests downstream these days.

Heron, goosanders and little egret

Walking above the ox-bow lakes 

The path entered the wooded area by the ox-bow lakes and blackcaps picked up the chorus. Chaffinches and dunnocks provided backing vocals and sedge warblers sang from the flag irises in the ox-bows. Jays, normally the most secretive of birds this time of year, made an exhibition of themselves though they took care to land in branches with a good cover of leaves to them. The leaves served the parakeets well, though, the young leaves of the ash trees matching their emerald green plumage. A couple of youngsters would have been inconspicuous if they weren't so noisy.

A pair of great spotted woodpeckers gave me a good telling-off as I walked past the cemetery into Urmston. I checked the time: I'd have ten minutes to wait for the train back home. They run every two hours, if they're not cancelled, it would have been rude not to.

Martin Mere

Moorhen chick

It's going to be a coo what a scorcher bank holiday weekend so I thought I'd best get a visit to Martin Mere in before it all kicks off. Most years we have a few weeks' gradation between Britain Shivers and Coo What A Scorcher but this year we're doing it over four days and I'm not convinced my system's quite caught up yet. It felt odd leaving all the coats at home, including the Summer raincoat. I had an atavistic yearning for a Packamac. It wasn't needed.

Some of the nests in the rookery by Burscough Bridge Station are either still active or active again. Most probably they are latecomers or pairs whose first attempt was predated and they're hoping second time lucky.

By Red Cat Lane 

The walk down Red Cat Lane to Martin Mere was oddly quiet but busy. The noise of rooks and jackdaws in the ploughed field just outside town gave way to the hints of woodpigeons, starlings and skylarks in the arable fields beyond. Robins, blackbirds chiffchaffs and goldfinches sang in the trees and hedges. Swallows and house martins twittered overhead, and all the more when a kestrel passed by. A yellow wagtail flew across the road from Curlew Lane and disappeared into the depths of a field of corn and there was a close pass-by by a male marsh harrier. 

A little further on, and to my utter astonishment, I had a nice suprise. A bird caught my eye as it flew into one of the horse chestnuts across the road from Brandeth Barn. It didn't look right for a sparrow and had too much back end for a chaffinch so I had a quick shufti with the binoculars. I can't remember how many years it is since I last saw a corn bunting along here, I'd given up on them. A surprisingly sleek-looking female brought the year list to 181.

Oystercatcher 

At Martin Mere I dived into the Discovery Hide for a bit of shade as much as for the birds. It's that time of year when mallards and shelducks conduct trains of ducklings past nesting black-headed gulls and non-breeding oystercatchers gather to celebrate their lack of responsibilities. There were a few lapwings and Canada geese about the far side of the mere, they were heavily outnumbered by greylags.

Black-headed gulls and chicks

Black-headed gulls and chicks

A walk down to the Mere View Hide included an encounter with a grey squirrel kitten that was out unsupervised and hadn't a clue. When I encountered it on the way back it was sunbathing after exhausting itself by running up a lady's trouser leg.

This grey squirrel kitten hadn't worked out it was supposed to be scared of people

The songscape along the way was light but persistent: if you weren't hearing song thrushes and/or robins you were hearing blackbirds, blackcaps and/or chiffchaffs, with background helpings of wrens, woodpigeons, a Cetti's warbler and a sedge warbler. A whitethroat added to the concert at the Mere View Hide and a reed warbler was seen but not heard, which is a distinct reversal of the norm.

From the Ron Barker Hide
Out in the distance a whooper swan sits on its nest.

I'd barely sat down at the Ron Barker Hide before a chap asked if I'd seen the whooper swan on its nest. I'm used to there being the odd one or two lingering over Summer because they couldn't join the migration because of injury or whatever and the past couple of years there's usually been a couple lurking around this end of Langley's Brook, the drain heading away from the hide. This year they've decided they may as well make the most of it while they're here.

Swallow

A few black-headed gulls were also nesting, bothering any passing lesser black-backs or herring gulls to keep them moving on. A few mallards, gadwalls and greylags drifted listlessly on the pools. Swallows twittered about the drain, some of them settling down for ten seconds of song before getting back to the business of flying about twittering. The long grass in the field at the side of the marsh was high enough for the calves to just be disembodied ears and tops of heads careering about in a giddy fashion. The cattle egrets with them and their parents were only visible when they took flight or sat on one or other's backs.

The afternoon was but young and the weather dead clear so I headed for the reedbed walk. I didn't think I had the legs to do the long walk round but I wanted to check out at least some of the hides and I was desperate to see some dragonflies. I lingered on the bridges over the brooks and drains like some lovelorn sailor in a bad movie and just got pitying looks from mallards for my pains. No dragons, no damsels.

The pool at the Rees Hide was busy though most of the birds were a fair way away from the hide. Black-headed gulls sat on nests with avocets on sentry duty chasing off lesser black-backs, coots, lapwings, swallows, butterflies, whatever caught their eye. I almost missed a Mediterranean gull sitting amidst the mêlée.

Tufted ducks 

The birds were closer and the whole scene a little calmer at the Gordon Taylor Hide, except when male black-headed gulls brought sticks back to shore up the nest when the family was expecting dinner. Pairs of tufted ducks, shovelers and teals quietly cruised about in and out of the reeds and between the nesting islands.

Black-headed gull

Black-headed gulls 

Black-headed gulls and chick

On the way out I glanced over the bridge and a female banded demoiselle landed on the reeds just underneath. Just the one damselfly for the day but one is infinitely better than nothing.

Banded demoiselle

It was lazy afternoon time at the Harrier Hide. Mallards, greylags, gadwalls and shovelers dozed and a great crested grebe slowly cruised around to no apparent purpose.

Creeping buttercup and flax

It was busy-quiet again on the way back. There was another fly-by by the marsh harrier though this time he was well away from the road. The starlings and swallows were starting to settle on telegraph wires ready for their teatime singsong, some were already warming up. All in all the day was like that, a deceptively calm day's birdwatching that somehow got 69 species on the tally.