Carrington Moss

Carrington Moss 

It was threatening to be a pleasant day so I decided I should go for a proper walk on Carrington Moss, I've only skimmed its margins so far this year.

I could have got the 247 or 255 into Carrington and walked down Isherwood Road but rather than mess about with connections or hang around at bus stops I got the train to Flixton and walked down. That extra mile is what I would have done to get to the 255 bus stop anyway. It worked in my favour: when I had a look at the river at Flixton Bridge a pair of gadwalls were swimming downstream and a dipper flew upstream.

I had another stroke of luck at the top of Isherwood Road. I was scanning the fields to see if any swallows were about — they nest at the stables — and I didn't just find swallows swooping over the horses, there was also my first house martin of the year.

There was a wealth of birdsong as I passed by the light woodland between Isherwood Road and Carrington Logistics Hub. Robins, blackcaps, great tits and chiffchaffs were making most of the running, a few blackbirds and willow warblers and a song thrush providing backing vocals. A raven cronked atop the electricity substation before flying off over Carrington.

Carrington Moss 

I joined the path running between the fields and the Shell Pool enclosure. The trees and bushes behind the fencing were almost in full leaf so I was hearing more black-headed gulls, Canada geese and coots that I was able to see on the pool. At least two black-headed gull nests were on the go. The trees were busy with singing chiffchaffs and willow warblers.

A dozen carrion crows rummaged about on the nearby field. I could hear skylarks but struggled to find them and when I did I struggled the more actually identifying them. Despite the clouds, the light was bright and high contrast;  against the almost black soil the larks weirdly glowed bright sandy white when they were out in the open. A couple of pied wagtails skittered about. When I got to the corner of the field and looked back I was better able to recognise the skylarks. There were also two other, less chunky, birds glowing pale yellow. Were these my first yellow wagtails of the year? I wasn't convinced, perhaps it was a peculiar trick of the light and they were just more skylarks, I mean, besides being the wrong shape, size and colour they were dead ringers. They took pity on me, took off and flew all of three yards along the distant field, enough time to confirm them as wagtails. Presumably they were female yellow wagtails, a yellow head of a male would have glowed like a beacon in this light.

Entering the woodland 

I turned into the bit of light woodland on the track that becomes Brookheys Road. Blue tits, great tits, robins and wrens skittered about in the bushes. Blackbirds chased each other across the track and through tree canopies. All about was a cacophony of birdsong. The chiffchaffs gave way to blackcaps. Robins, blackbirds, great tits, wrens and dunnocks competed for air time. Goldfinches and greenfinches twittered past. A chaffinch gave a song a go and gave up because it could hardly hear itself over a song thrush. Somewhere in the background were woodpigeons, pheasants, carrion crows and black-headed gulls. In the midst of all this, as I passed some hawthorns that had taken a bashing when a birch tree fell over, I could hear something shriller and faster than the blackcaps, in a desperate hurry to get the end of the song finished. I tried in vain to see the garden warbler. I do a lot of finding where a bird is by ear and I had little chance in this environment. And no chance at all once a whitethroat hopped over and joined in. Still, it's a nice problem to have, walking through silent countryside this time of year is awfully worrying.

Yellowhammer
All the other photos were of burnt-out yellow blobs.

At the crossroads I turned onto Ashton Road, trying and failing to photograph the blackbirds, blackcaps and whitethroats singing in the hawthorns or the greenfinches disbudding the flowers. A chap on a bike rode up and we let on and exchanged notes. He'd found plenty of wheatears about on the field immediately to the South. No sooner said than seen, on my first scan round I found a couple of female wheatears striking distant poses on ridges on the deeply furrowed ground. There might have been half a dozen out there, there might just have been three, they were up and down the ridges like jack-in-the-boxes. A male white wagtail was a lot closer, flying in for a drink from a puddle on the road just in front of me and off again before my camera was out of my bag. A bright yellow shape hopped across the field. At first I couldn't identify it, it was just a butter yellow glow. As I got closer I could see it was a male yellowhammer, a nice find as these are another farmland bird I'm struggling to find in previously reliable haunts.

Wheatears and skylarks

Birch Road

I walked down Birch Road. I usually avoid this as there's generally traffic to and from the United training ground but I didn't want to walk back up Ashton Road to join Brookheys Road to walk down to Sinderland Brook. There were only a couple of cars today and the trees lining the road were full of titmice, robins, blackcaps and chiffchaffs.

The Irlam to Altrincham line 

As the road met the brook I joined the track running down into Broadheath, another footpath bequeathed to a grateful nation by Doctor Beeching. The songscape resumed, this time with greenfinches becoming active participants. A grey wagtail skittered about the kingcups in a trackside pool, it's not often I get the full set on one day.

A trackside pool 

I emerged into Broadheath and got the 247 back to Davyhulme and had five minutes to wait for the bus home. Along the way the active rookery on Woodsend Road brought the day's tally to 49 species, that fiftieth eluded me and my knees were too insistent on telling me I needed to get home and get my tea for me to add on a side excursion, special like.

A game of two halves

Sand martins, Irlam Locks

It was a day for having curry for breakfast. The forecast unpleasant weather duly arrived, the spadgers sulked in the trackside brambles and the robin and the blackcap sang from deep in the ivy on the embankment. I'd made plans for this eventuality and these were inevitably shot to pieces by the train services in and out of Manchester being even more of a bin fire than they are normally. I felt it all the more because twice a year all public transport services are suspended in our town so long distance running events can go ahead and this coming Sunday is one of those days. Our public transport infrastructure is so fragile it is an act of Quixotic folly to choose to rely on it.

The rain it rained and I had itchy feet. The forecast said that the weather should settle down late afternoon and even perhaps become sunny. It wouldn't be cold and rainy anyway. I decided I'd get the 256 into Flixton. I didn't fancy larking about in mud at all so I'd stick to terra firma and see if the sand martins are back at Irlam Locks.

I put my big coat on and braved the elements. A couple of dozen woodpigeons grazed on the school playing field in the rain, the young magpie had learned that begging wasn't going to get it fed anymore, and half a dozen lesser black-backs and an adult herring gull danced for worms. Nearly all the herring gulls doing the rounds locally are non-breeding youngsters, there are perhaps a handful of pairs, I don't know if this was one of them. All of a sudden they were all up. The low-flying buzzard that caused the commotion was escorted on its way by jackdaws.

Waiting for the bus I was glad of the big coat. A woodpigeon huddled in the tree next to the bus stop went through the motions of singing and another hunched over a chimney across the street answered out of the side of its beak.

The rain stopped as the bus passed the Nag's Head and when I got off at the Town Gate terminus the sun was poking through the clouds. Blackbirds, robins, woodpigeons and blackcaps sang from the gardens of Irlam Road and the hedges seethed with house sparrows. Four drake mallards skimmed the chimney pots before veering off and heading for the Ship Canal.

Hedge garlic

A pair of gadwalls and two pairs of great crested grebes drifted on the canal upstream of the locks. A few mallards dozed by the sides, a cormorant fished and some black-headed gulls loafed on the lockside. A coot pottered about furtively near the lock. Four very noisy common terns flew in and wheeled about the locks for ten minutes before drifting upstream.

Sand martin

Dozens of sand martins zipped about. Most were hawking high overhead, judging by the clouds of flies about the hawthorn bushes there was plenty to eat. A few martins darted down to twitter and fuss with each other on telegraph wires before dashing off again. I rather wished the sun was behind me as I took their photos. All the while blackcaps, robins, wrens, great tits and blue tits sang and called in the bushes, dunnocks struck poses and blackbirds chased each other off territorial margins.

Just a few flies

Sand martins

There were equal numbers of black-headed gulls and magpies on the water treatment works. I think the oystercatchers have given up on this area.

Irlam Locks 

It had become bright and sunny and I was beginning to feel overdressed. Half a dozen cormorants loafed on the locks with two pigeons. I don't know where the rest of the usual crowd of pigeons are, they don't seem to be on the railway bridge either. Downstream a pair of mallards shepherded ducklings along the bankside and two more pairs of grebes drifted about downstream. Eight great crested grebes seemed a lot to have in one area, I'm wondering if some of these are young birds that have paired up but not established a territory.

A chap on a motorbike stopped and asked if I was Steven Heywood. I admitted as such and he turned out to be an old school friend I hadn't seen in decades. He recognised me because I was still wearing the same shorts and Captain Scarlet t-shirt.

Sand martins

I've often wondered about the crowds of sand martins milling about the lock chambers. It's always seemed too many birds just to be taking advantage of midges emerging into a confined space. Today I caught a couple digging out nests in the lockside where the mortar between blocks had long since crumbled. Once I got my eye in I found more nest holes and the martins visiting them. There aren't enough locks for all the crowd wheeling about overhead to find nest sites but there's enough crumbling canalside architecture downstream to accommodate a lot of them.

Sand martin

Sand martin

Irlam Community Woodland 

On the Irlam side, I walked down Cadishead Way, crossed over and had a quick nosy at Irlam Community Woodland where chiffchaffs, robins, great tits and dunnocks vied to dominate the songscape.

Irwell Old Course 

The songbirds were more in evidence than the waterbirds on the Irwell Old Course. A couple of pairs of mallards lurked and I nearly missed the moorhen rummaging about in the grass on the opposite bank. A chaffinch and a blue tit joined the songscape. House sparrows and goldfinches fussed about, long-tailed tits bounced through willows and magpies rattled about like teenage hoodlums.

I walked on into Princes Park, where a mistle thrush sang by the café, and got the bus to the Trafford Centre and thence home. I wouldn't have given you odds on this afternoon's walk this morning.

Local patch

Barton Clough

A general air of lethargy had descended. I wondered if I'd burned myself out trying to fill my boots while passage migrants, incoming Summer visitors and decent weather was available before the onset of the hayfever season. Then I nipped round to the shops for a loaf and discovered it was municipal grass-cutting day. I didn't want to waste what was likely to be the last fine day this week so I weighed up the options. Then found that the trains in and out of Manchester were up the spout. So I checked up on the local patch then did the big shop for the week.

There are already more singing blackcaps in the park than last year. The chiffchaffs were a bit shy, we seem to be back down to two territories. I'd written the visit off as too early for whitethroats then one started singing from the brambles on the United Utilities land behind the wall. There were greenfinches about but they were keeping a very low profile.

• Blackbird 10, 4 singing
• Blackcap 4, 3 singing
• Blue tit 5, 1 singing
• Carrion crow 2
• Chaffinch 1 singing
• Chiffchaff 2 singing
• Dunnock 1
• Feral pigeon 2
• Goldfinch 9, 2 singing
• Great tit 9, 6 singing
• Greenfinch 3
• Lesser black-back 1
• Long-tailed tit 2
• Magpie 6
• Mistle thrush 1
• Ring-necked parakeet 1
• Robin 8, 7 singing
• Song thrush 1 singing
• Whitethroat 1 singing
• Woodpigeon 16, 4 singing
• Wren 6, 5 singing

Marshside

Little gull

The weather looked uncertain so I decided to head over to Southport and have a nosy at Marshside. If the weather behaved I could walk to Crossens, if it didn't then I could sit in Sandgrounders a while then beat a retreat back for the bus to Southport. In the end I beat the retreat but it was a far from disappointing visit.

A skylark sang over a football match on the school playing field on Marshside Road. I noticed that nearly all the molehills had been dispersed, the last time I came it looked like a particularly challenging dribbling course had been set up. Small flocks of house sparrows and starlings bustled between the houses and gardens and the nature reserve.

The marshes were now mostly dry, dotted about with networks of Canada geese, lapwings and greylags. Coots and moorhens hurried about, mallards dozed, teals and shovelers dabbled and black-headed gulls made a racket.

By Marshside Road 

A whitethroat sang at the Junction Pool. A few tufted ducks bobbed about, shelducks loafed with mallards, a pair of mute swans cruised about like a minesweeper patrol. A couple of dozen black-tailed godwits, mostly in rusty brown breeding plumage, huddled together to doze. I could only see a handful of avocets and they were all feeding at the water's edge. A few redshanks and a pair of oystercatchers made a lot of noise and a couple of ruffs barged about in the mud.

Marshside

Little egret

Talking about barging, that's precisely the interaction between two little egrets on the opposite corner, one flying in, clattering into the egret feeding in a drain and sending it flying off and away up the road.

Little egret and Canada geese

Black-headed gulls

The rain which had been teasing up to now started in earnest just as I reached to pool next to Sandgrounders. I stood in the rain trying to work out how many little gulls were flitting about around the black-headed gulls. There were at least two adults, their wings pale grey edged white above and all black below. And there were at least two first-Winters, each with a thick black letter M drawn across their wings and back. One had the slightly darker wings, as if the charcoal was softer and smudged more when it was applied. They were obligingly close but restless and difficult to track as they jinked about amongst the other gulls.

Little gulls (the two birds in flight top left) and black-headed gulls

Little gull

Little gull (top left, in flight) and black-headed gulls

Black-headed gulls and little gull (top, centre-right)

Black-headed gulls and little gull (in flight)

Black-headed gulls and little gull (centre top)

Little gull
Like I said the other day, the rounded wing tips and the lack of a white flash on the wing makes a little gull look very different to a Bonaparte's gull, even if you can't properly see the black underwings.

Little gull

Little gull

Little gull

Little gull

Black-headed gulls

Common sense prevailed and I took refuge in Sandgrounders. The black-headed gulls were mostly settled down, some on nests, and all were noisy. A couple of males flew in to feed sitting females, a bit of pair-bonding that reassured that the chicks will get fed.

Shoveler and black-headed gulls

Behind the shingle island a couple of dozen redshanks fed busily in the channel, in the company of a couple of ruffs and a couple of dunlins, one of which was in breeding plumage with a striking black belly. Behind them slightly more black-tailed godwits split their time between feeding and preening.

Little gull

Little gulls, adult left

A little gull flew in and landed in front of the redshanks. A couple of minutes later a first-Winter bird landed right next to it, providing a very nice comparison. The younger bird looked bigger but that might have been an illusion caused the the solid black band along its wing. Then a third came to join them and this was different again, having mostly white wings with little black on them. I think that must be a second-Winter plumage. Then a little ringed plover skittered past them. I was having some indecently lucky birdwatching.

Little gulls (left) and black-headed gulls

I decided that before I scuttled back for the bus I'd cross the road and have a quick look at the sand plant. I'd heard wrens, dunnocks and greenfinches in the trees here as I walked to Sandgrounders, there might be something else about. I took a bit of shelter from the wind and looked over the outer marsh just in case a spoonbill might be feeding in one of the pools. One wasn't but there were still a few pink-footed geese amongst the Canada geese in the long grass.

I looked through the gate, thinking there might be a wheatear or wagtail on the grass in the sheltered hollow. Not today there wasn't. Then a Cetti's warbler sang from the depths of a hawthorn bush by the gate. Try as I might I couldn't see it even though it must have been within arm's reach. This prompted me to check out the bushes on the perimeter of the sand plant. A dark grey lump in a small tree turned out to be a male sparrowhawk trying to take shelter from the rain. It was being mobbed by a whitethroat, a couple of chiffchaffs, and a female redstart.

The sand plant was paying dividends so I ignored the rain, which was trying its best, and walked round to the side by the car park. A couple of greenfinches and a reed bunting sheltered in the trees. A chiffchaff fly-catched from a stunted willow. I shuffled round a willow bush to get a bit of shelter as I looked at the trees up the slope and heard a song at my shoulder. It occured to me I wouldn't know a firecrest's song, it was a goldcrest that fidgeted into the next bush.

Gorse

I'd had a damned good lunchtime and saw no need to add pneumonia to the lucky bag. As I walked back up Marshside Road black-tailed godwits were feeding by the roadside drain. I looked back over the road at Junction Pool for one last go and found a second-Winter Mediterranean gull loafing by a pair of shelducks. Some days you can be too jammy for words.

Black-tailed godwits

Black-tailed godwit

On the way back the big rookery at Burscough Bridge Station and the smaller ones on Sutch Lane and near Hoscar Station were hives of activity. The usual hares were on their usual field outside Parbold. Further along there was no sign of the eagle owls in their aviary, I hope they were keeping out of the rain.

Pennington Flash

Mallard duckling

I tossed a coin for today and had a wander round Pennington Flash. Yesterday, by some miracle, I missed all the rain and hail and had nearly unbroken sunshine. Today was cool and dreich. Still, April showers and all that.

The 610 left Leigh Bus Station just as our 126 pulled in so I got the 588 to Plank Lane and walked into Pennington Flash from there. The trees by the little car park were noisy with the songs of willow warblers and robins, anything else barely got a look-in, even the wrens struggled to be heard.

Walking in from Plank Lane 

Dropping down to the flash

The willow scrub on the rucks (the old mining spoil heaps) was even busier with willow warblers, there must have been a fall of them overnight, most will move on to less highly-contested territories.

Blackcap

Dunnock

I dropped down to the North side of the flash where blackcaps and chiffchaffs joined in the songscape. Blackcaps struck poses, always careful to have a twig or two between them and the camera, dunnocks were more obliging. I kept hearing a whitethroat in the background but couldn't see it, I could only pin it down to a stand of hawthorns. When I got to the reedbeds by the flash a reed warbler struggled to be heard over the others, especially once a Cetti's warbler decided to join in.

There's a whitethroat and two willow warblers singing behind me, a chiffchaff over to the left, a blackcap in the green bush centre-left, another blackcap over to my right, a Cetti's warbler behind that green bush and one, possibly two, reed warblers singing in the reeds. Otherwise it was a bit quiet.

Heading for Ramsdales Hide

As the path curved round towards Ramsdales Hide goldfinches twittered, chaffinches sang and there were more chiffchaffs though they were still outnumbered by willow warblers. There was a Cetti's warbler singing at the usual corner by Ramsdales Hide, a  welcome return to the usual state of affairs.

Lapwings

Lapwings

At first glance it was quiet at Ramsdales Hide. At first glance. Canada geese and pairs of gadwalls loafed by islands, pairs of mallards pottered about and pairs of teal dabbled over on the far side. The only waders I could find were the half a dozen lapwings dotted about the main island. I couldn't work out if one female was egg-bound or just desperate for naughty lapwing action. In the end I concluded the latter though there were a couple of times I was convinced she was going to lay an egg, in a different place each time. One of the males approached, they displayed at each other, then she pecked him and went back to her come-hither displays on the other side of the island.

At the Tom Edmondson Hide 

 It was quiet at the Tom Edmondson Hide, the coots and gadwalls took some finding and the Canada geese would have been inconspicuous had they not taken offence at a passing heron. I noticed a pair of great crested grebes in the reeds at the top of Pengy's Pool but couldn't see any signs of a nest. Which is sort of the point, I suppose. It's only dangerous lunatics like corvids that go shouting out: "Hey! Look at this nest!"

The shovelers were quietly a-courting on the pool opposite Tom Edmondson's.

Mallard duckling

The F.W.Horrocks Hide can feel cold on a Summer's day so this afternoon it was a bit bracing. Most of the birds were, as usual, at the far end of the spit though this time of year it's not much of a crowd scene, most of the lapwings are busy elsewhere on the reserve and most of the herring gulls have moved out of the area. The oystercatcher was noisy, as were the black-headed gulls. Woodpigeons grazed on top of the spit, a redshank and a common sandpiper pottered about the waterside. And a mallard tried to marshal more than a dozen ducklings safely from the flash to the pool by the side of the hide and more than a dozen ducklings demonstrated why there's such a high mortality rate amongst mallard ducklings. It's like herding cats. Just when I thought she'd got them all onto the stream onto the pool a couple more scrabbled over the spit. Then another. Then another. One was only saved from violent death by a magpie's reluctance to get its feet wet but it was a close-run thing.

Black-headed gulls

Common sandpiper

There were small rafts of lesser black-backs out on the flash, never more than a dozen birds, a few herring gulls tagged along. Tufted ducks swam in lines, a dozen young adult great crested grebes congregated midwater, and the whole flash was covered with a seething mass of sand martins. Hundreds of sand martins hawking for midges inches above the water's surface. I looked in vain for swallows or house martins then spent a while just watching the birds swirling about like sand blown across a beach.

I called it quits and headed for St Helens Road and the bus back to Leigh. Halfway across the car park a harsh call caught my ear and I turned round to find a common tern hawking with the sand martins out on the flash, my first of the year. Not a bad end to the visit.