Eclipse

Woodpigeon, Cob Kiln Wood 

Today's planned trip out to Marshside fell at the first hurdle when the trains from Oxford Road to Southport were cancelled. It was scheduled to be a red-hot day so I'd reckoned on a light toddle about by the seaside, no long walks or anything. Man proposes, the train service disposes.

I weighed up the options. It became obvious that anything involving trains carried a large element of risk: there were bright red "Train services may be unreliable" notices at the top of the National Rail web site. Given the service delivery most days that could be a permanent fixture, if they're going to the effort of explicitly saying so it's wise to leave well alone. I couldn't think of very much that didn't involve crowds of people, a long walk out in the open exposed to the sun, a complete absence of wildlife or any combination thereof. So I made a pot of tea and some toast.

The hot day came as advertised and I was very glad indeed not to have been indulging in any of the planned exertions. I still needed the exercise, though, so I decided to have a woodland teatime stroll and see what today's partial eclipse of the sun was going to look like.

Cob Kiln Wood 

It was a quiet walk over to Cob Kiln Wood. Magpies panted by the kerbside, pigeons dozed, collared doves sang and woodpigeons idled on chimney pots. It wasn't a lot busier inside Cob Kiln Wood: robins and wrens ticked their disapproval as I passed by, woodpigeons and magpies clattered about, a couple of ring-necked parakeets made a racket and goldfinches twittered in the trees. I offended a treecreeper by accidentally getting too close to its nest though I couldn't actually see either of them. I took the hint nonetheless. Speckled woods and red admirals fluttered about the brambles, the air was thick with the smell of blackberries and Himalayan balsam gone over.

The electricity pylon clearing 

As I approached the electricity pylon clearing the light began to change. It was half an hour before the peak of the eclipse but already it had the look of the golden hour with the angles and shadows all wrong. Woodpigeons and jackdaws started going to roost. A migrant hawker patrolled the clearing and Southern hawkers patrolled the tree canopies around the periphery. A few lesser black-backs had been flying around, all of a sudden the sky was full of black-headed gulls. It quickly became apparent why the dragonflies and gulls were busy as I started walking into clouds of midges.

Cob Kiln Lane 

I walked down Cob Kiln Lane in this strangely artificial-seeming light which became stranger as I approached the bridge and the partial eclipse reached its peak. Downstream a heron and some mallards loafed on the shoals at the bend, upstream pigeons were going to bed under the Carrington Spur Road bridge. And it was all very quiet.

River Mersey 

Partial eclipse of the sun transmitted on sunbeams
(Pure dumb luck, I closed my eyes, pointed the 'phone in the general direction of the sun and hoped for the best.)

Crossing the bridge I joined a group standing on the Cheshire side of the river as we didn't look at the sun going vaguely dimmer. And then the light started to change again, almost imperceptibly. It wasn't lighter, nor brighter, or less browny gold, it was just, well, different. Woodpigeons starting flying back out of their roots. Pigeons flew down to the river to drink. A pair of carrion crows chased a buzzard over the river. I started the walk back.

Cob Kiln Lane 

The light shifted brightness and colour as I walked down Cob Kiln Lane into Urmston. Livid greens of leaves calmed down and lost their metallic ochre lustres. Shadows lost their Expressionist cinematic dimensions. The whites and pale greys of tree trunks reasserted themselves. The sky was filled with swallows and house martins.

Cob Kiln Lane 

On my way home the sun dipped behind a cloud and bands of sunbeams radiated out like a Philips radiogram. In a universe of infinite time and space somewhere Caroll Gibbons and the Savoy Orpheans had a guest spot on the Home Service.

Pennington Flash

Gadwall

After a busy morning I headed over to Pennington Flash. It was a hot, sunny day so it was likely to be very busy but there's plenty of shade about and I was hoping to find some waders on the ground exposed by lowering waters.

Pennington Brook

There were furtive mutterings from great tits and blue tits in the hedgerows as I walked in from St Helens Road and a coal tit called from the trees. I stopped at the bridge over the brook and watched a blue-tailed damselfly patrolling the banks. The car park was busy of people, cars and black-headed gulls, the Canada geese, mallards and mute swans were not for leaving the relatively cool bankside for the baking-hot concrete. Lots more of all of them loafed on the water while rafts of coots, lesser black-backs and herring gulls drifted in midwater. Great crested grebes cruised about with caravans of half-grown humbugs, cormorants fished and there was no sign of any swifts, swallows or martins.

Lapwing, pied wagtail and moorhen

The cool of the F.W.Horrocks Hide was a welcome relief. The spit had become a heavily-vegetated bulge in the landscape. Mallards, gadwalls and lapwings dozed by the waterside while woodpigeons, moorhens and pied wagtails fossicked about. At the end of the spit the usual selection of herring gulls, cormorants and black-headed gulls loafed and preened. A raft of a dozen or so each of great crested grebes and tufted ducks cruised the channel beyond the spit.

The spit

The Kidney Pool 

Mute cygnets

Robins and chiffchaffs squeaked in the trees as I walked down to the Tom Edmondson Hide. Brown hawkers patrolled the reeds by the Kidney Pool. The pools at the Tom Edmondson Hide were busier than they have been, occupied by a large family of mute swans and a couple of gadwalls. Southern hawkers skimmed over the grass, large whites and speckled woods fluttered about the brambles at the side. A heron made a racket as it flew in and decided not to settle, it wasn't apparent what had put it off.

I had high hopes of waders at Ramsdales and found me just the one lapwing. Two teal-sized ducks turned out to be gadwall ducklings, they didn't have enough wings yet for the distinctive white speculum feathers. A pair of teals were dozing in the shade of a tree by the side.

Walking towards the canal 

It was too warm for a long walk in exposed conditions so I decided I'd head back whence I came which is how I found myself walking round the flash and on to Slag Lane instead. Chiffchaffs squeaked in the trees, a blackcap told me off and magpies clattered about. Woodpigeons and gulls flew to and fro. Meadow browns, common blues and large whites fluttered about the wayside, red admirals and speckled woods the hedgerows. A common hawker zipped by, I think they're the least common hawkers round these parts. More expected were the brown hawkers and Southern hawkers patrolling the pathways and tree canopies. 

I stopped at the viewing point by the reeds to look at the end of the spit and the bits of Ramsdales scrapes I couldn't see from the hide, distracted all the while by brown hawkers and a plunge-diving common tern. Mallards, black-headed gulls, lapwings… and skittering across the mud between two patches of reeds a little ringed plover dwarfed by a juvenile pied wagtail. 

Mute swan

I started to see common blue damselflies flitting about in the grass as I approached the little inlet. There weren't the swarms of my last visit and there were no signs of any emperor dragonflies. A couple of Southern hawkers hawked low over the water, keeping away from the mute swans and mallards loafing on the water.

The inlet

Black-headed gulls and common tern

As I carried on walking I noticed that the low water on the flash was exposing more of its industrial heritage. What are generally isolated groups of rocks pointing out of the water had become a sequence of lines suggesting the course of the old railway that served Bickershaw Colliery. These provided loafing places for black-headed gulls and common terns. One of the great crested grebes still had a nest on the go that was now on a small raised platform.

Common blue 

It was definitely too warm for a walk across the rucks to the canal and thence Plank Lane. I stuck to the bankside. There were a lot of common blues skittering about the parched sward. In a couple of places they were joined by small numbers of small blues. The common blues stayed still long enough for a few photos, the small blues didn't want to play and spent most of their time undercover or feeding upside down from kidney vetch flowers. A couple of azure damselflies sunned themselves on rocks. A couple of the gulls circling high overhead didn't look right so I had a look through the binoculars. They were a couple of young sparrowhawks riding the thermals. I didn't notice the third sparrowhawk, an adult female, until she intervened when a lesser black-back circled over to torment them.

The rucks

Pennington Flash 

Willow warblers and goldfinches bounced about in the willow scrub. A female common scoter had been reported on the flash earlier but I wasn't seeing anything that might be it. A few tufted ducks and mallards chugged by, more mallards lurked by the reeds by the sailing club. A big raft of coots were diving for a freshwater mussel bed that's usually too deep for them to reach. Most of the noise was made by three great crested grebes that were being allowed out on their own while the parents went fishing.

Great crested grebes
Humbugs playing at being the Loch Ness monster

Lapwing

It struck me as odd watching young lapwings feeding at the waterside alongside paddling children but I suppose they don't know any different. As far as the lapwings are concerned we're probably not much different to cattle come for a wallow.

Heading for Slag Lane 

I walked into the willow scrub to Slag Lane. A mixed flock of long-tailed tits, chiffchaffs and willow warblers kept me on my toes. I'd just missed the 588 back to Leigh and the next one was due in an hour so I walked into Plank Lane for the 584 due in thirty-five minutes. This is the bus from Crankwood. I don't know that area so I decided to walk a few stops up Crankwood Road just for a nosy, stopping when the bus going up to the terminus passed by. I spent the next five minutes watching a charm of about forty goldfinches feeding on the thistles across the road. Which is no bad way to pass the time.

Mosses

Common blue, Chat Moss

It being a warmish and sunny day I decided to go and have that walk across the mosses in search of dragonflies. Any birds would be a bonus.

Along Cutnook Lane 

I got the 100 from the Trafford Centre, got off at Merlin Road and walked up Cutnook Lane. The wooded fringe to the motorway was predictably quiet. As the lane turned and headed North I could see a few woodpigeons in the fields and a flock of a dozen black-headed gulls loafed as horses grazed around them. A swallow flew by. Further on, past the fishery, more woodpigeons clattered about in the trees and there were occasional squeaks from chiffchaffs, a dunnock and a robin. Speckled woods, large whites and common darters skittered about the bracken verges. A squirrel was fossicking about in the wayside. We looked at each other, neither was in the mood for a chase, we went about our business.

Walking up to Croxden's Moss 

I crossed Twelve Yards Road and walked up the path between the trees. The squeaks of chiffchaffs gave way to the squeaks of willow warblers. Somewhere in the distance a juvenile buzzard was wanting feeding and being told to fend for itself. Red admirals and small whites joined the fluttering about in the bracken. A huge white butterfly flying about the oak canopy turned out to be a pair of coupling green-veined whites. The grassy opening at the intersection of paths was lively with common blues and meadow browns.

I had a quick nosy at Croxden's Moss. Black darters whizzed about, woodpigeons sang in the trees, large whites fluttered low over the ground and a blackcap told me to beggar off. So I did.

Common darter

As I walked along the side-path the wayside vegetation was busy with darters, both common and black, and speckled woods. Not for the first time and probably not the last I was so beguiled by the beautiful colours of a deerfly's eyes I almost let the varmint bite me. Willow warblers, great tits and blue tits squeaked and tutted as I passed by. A wren had a fit of the mutters deep in the bracken. A robin did vocal exercises in the birch scrub. I keep feeling I've seen the last of this year's swifts, today they were hawking low over the treetops.

Black darter

As the trees thinned out a little and let in more light meadow browns and large whites fluttered about the wayside with the speckled woods. An emerald damselfly obligingly posed for photographs after I apologised for mistaking it for a cranefly. A Southern hawker patrolled the canopy above my head, I rather hoped it was catching deerflies. 

Meadow brown

Emerald damselfly 

There was enough water in the pools on the open peat for me to hope to see some waders and I was disappointed. A broad-bodied chaser had it all to itself. I bumped into a party of long-tailed tits which disappeared into the birch scrub to join the twittering a of goldfinches. There seemed to be a emergence of red admirals, every open patch of ground had a pile of them, mostly sunning themselves on tree trunks. A few commas and painted ladies mingled with the crowds.

Red admiral 

Willow emerald

I don't see so many emerald damselflies that I get blasé about them so I always give them a second look. One of them I gave a third and fourth look before I realised that it was the pale wing spots that had caught my attention. I had to check it up to confirm because it seemed unlikely but it turns out this is one of the few places locally where willow emeralds have been recorded. 

Willow emerald

The path entered the more open ground and there were more butterflies by the wayside and more swifts over the fields. A small heath fluttered about the depths of a patch of grass. A bank vole ran across the path in front of me. And I had a moment's puzzlement as a banded demoiselle fluttered about a willow canopy. I always associate these with riversides and streams but I guess if they've got wings they can go where they like. I turned and headed towards Twelve Yards Road, a linnet and a couple of swallows flew across the field by my side.

Speckled wood

Haymaking

A farmer was making hay while the sun shines by Twelve Yards Road, disturbing a hen pheasant and a meadow pipit and attracting the attention of a few lesser black-backs and herring gulls. Way down Astley Road a small flock of house martins were feeding over farm buildings and a buzzard was making lazy circles in the sky. A migrant hawker zipped by, jinking out of course a couple of times after insects disturbed by the tractor.

A couple of young kestrels perched on the telegraph wires with some woodpigeons. I looked in vain for whitethroats or stonechats along Lavender Lane.

Lavender Lane 

Little Woolden Moss was very quiet. A couple of willow warblers squeaked quietly in the trees and woodpigeons and a handful of swallows flew overhead. I had to tiptoe past painted ladies on the path. The only dragonfly was a Southern hawker patrolling up and down the path.

Little Woolden Moss
There should be pools there.

Most of the pools were bone dry. There was just enough water in one for a pied wagtail to have a bath in it. A couple of others fossicked about the dried peat. I exchanged "Not much abouts" with another birdwatcher. Ten minutes later, as I turned onto the path leading to Moss Road I looked back and a female-type marsh harrier rose from the distant moss, turned on a wingtip and disappeared whence it came. They do these things to taunt us.

Moss Road 

In ordinary circumstances I'd say that it was a quiet walk down Moss Road but it was the most productive birdwatching of the day. Starlings gathered on telegraph wires, collared doves sang from telegraph poles, wrens muttered, a willow warbler squeaked, goldfinches twittered, greenfinches sang and lesser black-backs passed overhead. A common gull stood on its own in one field, a lapwing stood on its own in another. Carrion crows and woodpigeons bundled about in odd corners. And pied wagtails skittered about grazing ponies.

Manchester city centre 

I didn't have the energy for a wander round New Moss Wood. A willow warbler squeaked at the North end, a chiffchaff squeaked from the South end and a chaffinch squeaked from the trees by the car park in between. 

I struck dead lucky and got the strain straight home from Irlam. I felt like I'd had a longer walk than I had done but the day's birdwatching tally was more respectable than I was expecting. And I'd gone out looking for dragonflies and found more than I'd bargained for.

Mersey Valley

Hornet-mimic hoverfly on hemp agrimony, Kickety Brook 

I spent most of Friday asleep, which is a pity as it looked like a nice day. Today was considerably warmer and it took a bit of an effort to persuade myself out for a walk. Luckily there was still enough of a breeze to make the walk the more pleasant once I got out into the open.

I headed over to Stretford Meadows. Collared doves and woodpigeons dozed on garden fences as I passed by. It was that sort of afternoon. A few spadgery mutterings were heard from the hedgerows of Newcroft Road. I braced myself for a quiet walk.

Arriving at the meadows I had barely passed the extended patch of rock-hard cracked mud at the entrance when a family of whitethroats gave me the collective raspberry from the depths of their bramble patch. I was a bit surprised as they're not usually this near to the trees, preferring the open spaces. Perhaps it's a reaction to the recent extreme heat, a bit less heat stress or a more reliable supply of insects? Anyway, they were keen to have me on my way.

Stretford Meadows 

It was a very quiet walk across the meadows. There was a steady traffic of woodpigeons and jackdaws overhead, whither and thither they alone knew. On the ground I saw a couple of magpies at the top of the mound. A handful of goldfinches twittered. A couple of woodpigeons rummaged about in the small oak trees checking out the state of the acorns. A handful of large whites fluttered about the brambles, meadow browns were numerous but rarely flew higher than a couple of inches above the parched ground. The nettles were wilted, the thistles and willowherbs had gone to seed, a few ragworts and small patches of black knapweed were still game. A large patch of goldenrod in full flower on one of the slopes had not one butterfly and scarce any bees or hoverflies.

The view from the top of the mound

I dropped down the Eastern slope of the mound, a couple of greenfinches letting everyone know I was passing by. Apples were ripening on the trees and bramble patches were thick with blackberries. In a Summer of disappointing blackberries I found one of the best I've had in years, so I had three and left the rest to the invisible wildlife. A cock pheasant appeared out of a patch of wilted willowherbs, ran across the path in front of me and disappeared into a line of brambles and elderberry bushes.

Rather to my astonishment, the flooded path across one of the terraces was even wetter than usual. I had been worrying about the wildlife going thirsty.

Blackberries 

I dropped down further and joined the Transpennine Route, heading for Stretford Ees. A Southern hawker patrolled the wayside. Somewhere in the depths a song thrush appeared to be doing vocal exercises. I stopped to take a photo of a blue tit in the trees and a blackcap flew into the hawthorn by my side and told me to go away.

Blue tit

By Kickety Brook 

On the other side of Chester Road things picked up a little. The brook was bone dry but the shade of the trees had provided some shelter for the wayside plants. They were dry but mostly not scorched or wilted though the Himalayan balsams were shadows of their usual selves. For once their scent wasn't overwhelming, instead it mingled with the smells of ripening blackberries and elderberries, all held together by the strangely fugitive scent of the stands of hemp agrimony. An enormous hornet-mimic hoverfly zipped past my nose on its way to the hemp agrimonies on the wayside next to me.

Hornet-mimic hoverfly 

Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about. Lesser black-backs passed overhead. Goldfinches, less than a handful, twittered in the trees. Blue tits fidgeted through the undergrowth. There was a sudden and unexpected burst of song from the trees on the other side of the brook as a garden warbler rushed out a few phrases and gave up before the end. Even the pigeons under the aqueduct were someplace else.

Stretford Weir
This collects the water from the ees when in flood and channels it down into the Mersey drain, which empties back into the river half a mile downstream, and Kickety Brook.

Goldfinches twittering in the hawthorns and the shrieks of parakeets in the trees by the cemetery provided the background to an otherwise very quiet walk across Stretford Ees. A brown hawker patrolled the reedmace in the waterless Stretford Weir.

River Mersey 

The river was, unsurprisingly, running very low. A flock of woodpigeons lined the banks as they had a drink. For a moment I thought the river was even lower than I'd thought as a grey shape pottered about the far bankside. It wasn't a woodpigeon having a paddle, it was a drake mandarin duck in its eclipse plumage. I couldn't see a female anywhere. I'd only taken a couple of steps when I noticed a bird tearing in from the mouth of Chorlton Brook. It was an adult dipper and it carried on downstream, the speed of its flight exaggerated by the sluggishness of the river. 

Mandarin duck 

A bit further down the bend a pair of mallards dabbled close to the bank. A chiffchaff squeaked from a hawthorn on the corner. I crossed over into Chorlton Ees grateful for a bit of shade. Great tits, dunnocks and wrens marked my passing by and magpies dug holes in the banks between trees as they grubbed for insects. Up in the canopy woodpigeons sang and billed and cooed and a pair of males had a punch-up, knocking each other about from tree to tree.

Woodpigeon punch-up 

Woodpigeon punch-up 

Dryad's saddle

Chorlton Ees 

It was more of the very quiet same as I walked through Ivy Green into Chorlton. There were more ring-necked parakeets in the gardens than there were in the woodland. The house martins hawking overhead as I waited for the bus in Stretford brought the day's tally up to thirty, which felt okay for this time of year.