Wellacre Country Park

Wellacre Country Park

After a weekend spent listening to the radio with a hot water bottle on my face and some very sleepless nights I thought a gentle toddle round Wellacre Country Park would be a sensible form of exercise. It was a dry, relatively mild and cloudy November afternoon, just right for a dawdle round.

Walking into Wellacre Wood
The young oak tree on the right was fizzing with long-tailed tits 

I got the 256 to Town's Gate and wandered into Wellacre Wood. Parakeets and magpies muttered in the treetops by the school. A large, and surprisingly silent, mixed tit flock bounced out of the hedgerows by the school into the young oaks at the fringe of the woodland. A couple of dozen long-tailed tits provided most of the energy with blue tits and coal tits fidgeting a fair contribution. Great tits were conspicuously absent for once. The chaffinches didn't seem to be part of the flock, they just coincided in passing. Robins sang around the woodland edge but the woodland interior was deathly quiet save the sound of falling leaves. It was the merest luck I caught the jay caching acorns, I stood still and let it finish the job and move on.

Some of the brambles were still game

Goldfinches and robins fussed about in the hawthorns by the path to Jack Lane. Magpies, pied wagtails and carrion crows accompanied the horses. There was a trickle of black-headed gulls overhead, nearly all heading for Salford Quays. Six cormorants flying in a line were heading for the Ship Canal at Irlam.

Jack Lane Nature Reserve 

It was lovely to see water back in Jack Lane Nature Reserve. There didn't seem to be anything taking advantage of it anywhere but it was nice to see. All the small bird action was going on along the railway embankment, a very sleek-looking male great spotted woodpecker was working his way through the half-drowned willows in the company of long-tailed tits, great tits and blue tits. I'd heard him a while before I saw him, I was looking too high: he was working on the wet wood at the base of the trees.

Heading for Dutton's Pond, the railway's on the right

Dutton's Pond 

Half a dozen mallards and a pair of moorhens pottered about Dutton's Pond but there wasn't any sign of the usual pair of coots. A bullfinch flew a circuit of the pond for no apparent reason while parakeets and a jay had a shouting match in the trees beyond.

I turned, crossed under the railway bridge and walked onto Green Hill. I couldn't be bothered with climbing the hill, I just followed the path over to Carrington Road. Robins, wrens, great tits and a dunnock fidgeted in the bushes by the wayside. Woodpigeons, goldfinches and chaffinches were settling in to roost in the treetops, greenfinches and a bullfinch flew over to the farmland on the Cheshire side of the river. The few lesser black-backs passing overhead looked to be heading for Woolston Eyes.

River Mersey at Flixton Bridge 

Long-tailed tits and great tits came over to have a look as I looked in vain for any birds on the river. I bade them good day and walked down for the bus home.

Mersey Valley

Cob Kiln Wood 

The ambitious plans I had for catching up with my birdwatching were put on ice almost immediately I opened my eyes. I'm making a fair bodge of getting over that cold and I'm bored with the cough now. It was too nice a day for woe-is-meing about the house so I thought I'd have that walk round Cob Kiln Wood I didn't manage last week.

The walk down to the wood was fairly quiet. Magpies rattled in the trees, robins sang in the allotments, a couple of starlings bubbled from chimney pots.

Walking into Cob Kiln Wood
The bridge over Old Eeas Brook 

A couple of robins sang at each other at the entrance to the wood and ring-necked parakeets screeched the odds from the treetops. Wrens and blackbirds fidgeted in the undergrowth. Old Eeas Brook was running high, almost reaching the bridge, you'd never believe it was bone dry most of the Summer. I crossed the bridge, disturbing a buzzard I hadn't noticed sitting in one of the trees upstream. It quietly took off and disappeared in the direction of the river.

Not the worst photo of a siskin I've ever taken, and by no means the best. They have a habit of skylining above messy foreground.

Great tits and blue tits fussed about in the trees. A dozen or so goldfinches were working their way through the alder cones. I checked them out, this time of year I might expect siskins or redpolls, today I just found the one siskin, a male looking very dapper in his fresh Autumn duds. Further along a family group of long-tailed tits worked their way through the elderberries and willows. Dunnocks, robins and chaffinches were heard far more than they were seen.

Cob Kiln Wood 

The electricity pylon clearing was picturesque but dead quiet save a wren muttering in the dogwood patch. I walked across and dropped onto Cob Kiln Lane where a couple of redwings flitted across into the brambles by the river.

The electricity pylon clearing 

River Mersey 

The Mersey was riding high, barely bouncing over the weir. A couple of mallards flew upstream, I couldn't see any other waterfowl about. Something was thrashing about in the water by the shoals, I wondered at first if it might be an otter or a mink but the length of time it was submerged it could only have been a fish. Fleeting views at that distance weren't good enough for me to hazard a guess as to what it might be.

I pushed myself on to walk through Banky Meadow. Most of the birdlife was quietly going about its business, the exceptions being the parakeets in the treetops and the jackdaws and magpies in the hay meadows, all of which were determined to make sure everyone knew they were there. A pair of coal tits dropped down into a willow sapling to watch me negotiate a particularly tricky pair of parallel puddles separated by about a foot of mud, they lost interest once I safely managed firmer footing. Judging by the footprints — human and dog — they must get a lot of regular entertainment from this stretch of path.

Banky Meadow 

I crossed Carrington Road just in time for the 248 to pass me on its way to the Trafford Centre and Eccles. It's an hourly service, as is the Warrington bus that goes through Carrington and left ten minutes earlier. I could, and arguably should, have walked home but I was absolutely knackered. I think I've been running before I can walk this week. The 249 to Altrincham was due in quarter of an hour at the stop ten minutes away. I got that then got the 247 back to Urmston and thence home, which is counterintuitive but got me there five minutes before any other means and just in time to save myself a walk by getting the train home. 

On the way, as a brick red sunset painted the fields of Sinderland, I had my nose pressed against the window in the hopes a barn owl might be on twilight patrol. I never have any luck with them here and today was no exception.

Martin Mere

Whooper swans and mallards 

It was going to be another very pleasant Autumn day and I decided I should use it to go and have a visit to Martin Mere. I'm still trying to catch up with myself after being confined to barracks last week, Martin Mere's always a good place to visit this time of year.

I got the train to Burscough Bridge and walked down Red Cat Lane. My first song thrush since August was sitting in a tree in the last garden before the fields. Robins, great tits, chaffinches and blackbirds fidgeted in the hedgerows and gardens and skylarks and starlings called as they flew overhead.

Rooks, off Red Cat Lane

The stubble fields were busy with rooks and woodpigeons. The crowds of jackdaws preferred the fields over towards Mere Sands Wood and were very fidgety for no cause that I could spot. Goldfinches and skylarks flew overhead and I nearly overlooked a couple of stock doves because each was flying on its own amongst the woodpigeons shuttling between fields. A few starlings peeled off from the flocks feeding in the fields to bubble and squeak from the tops of telegraph poles. Pied wagtails flitted about the farm buildings as I chatted to a farmer about the potato harvest. There was a lot of fidgeting about in the stubble by Brandeth Barn which turned out to be a couple of dozen meadow pipits.

Meadow pipit, Brandeth Barn 

Harlequin ladybird

By the time I got to Martin Mere I had to conclude that I was dressed too warm for the day. The wind was light and warm and the pedestrian entrance to the visitor centre was fizzing with tiny hoverflies and ladybirds.

Whooper swans and mallards 

As usual I went straight for the Discovery Hide for a sit down. The mere was very busy, a few dozen whooper swans were very vocal, rafts of a couple of dozen mallards each were very frisky. There were plenty of coots and tufted ducks about, a couple of dozen pochards were dotted about and mostly asleep, the teals, pintails and shovelers took a bit of finding and there were fewer shelducks than I'd expect this time of year. There were scores of wigeons, mostly asleep in the company of loafing lapwings, or as close to loafing as anything as fidgety as a lapwing can manage. A few dozen greylags and Canada geese were scattered about. Way over on the Plover Field a thick, greyish brown band across the field proved to be scores of pink-footed geese.

Whooper swans and mallards 

Shelduck, tufted ducks and ring-necked duck (third left)

It took a while to spot the drake ring-necked duck despite its being dead ahead. It was fast asleep amongst some dozing tufted ducks and every time I thought I had it a raft of randy mallards would barge across my line of view and I'd have to start all over again. Oddly enough, the tufties and the ring-necked duck managed to stay asleep as the cavalcade passed by.

Mallards, lapwings and greylag

Lapwings and teals

The path on the left goes to the Raines Observatory 

The walk to the Rob Barker Hide was picturesque but not especially productive. A family party of long-tailed tits bouncing through the bushes by the Hale Hide was the birdwatching highlight. A brimstone butterfly fluttering about the brambles in front of the Mere View Hide was a nice surprise.

From the Mere View Hide 

At first sight there wasn't much doing at the Ron Barker Hide. A couple of little egrets and a great white egret lurked in the drain between the marshes and there were no ducks on the pools. A buzzard soared over the fields by the railway line, a female-type marsh harrier drifted in and settled in the reeds. Family groups of pink-footed geese flew in from the farmlands towards the Plover Field. A couple of dabchicks fussed about in the drain in front of the hide.

After about quarter of an hour a flock of about fifty teals flew in and settled on the pools. Then another. And another. Where they'd been and why they were turning up now wasn't apparent. Another great white egret flew in, bothered a little egret then flew over to the bank to watch a heron reducing the local brown rat population. Perhaps it was hoping the rat might escape from the heron and be easy pickings. And perhaps that sort of thing is the reason why herons get on fine with little egrets but are very aggressive to great white egrets.

As I was leaving I noticed half a dozen gadwalls in the pool behind the trees at the corner of the Mere View Hide.

Shelduck

I walked back then over to the United Utilities Hide. It was afternoon nap time on the mere for most everything except the lapwings and black-headed gulls. The trees and bushes lining the path were busy with titmice and goldfinches. A chiffchaff squeaked from the top of one of the willows, a treecreeper creaked quietly as I passed an elderberry bush. As I turned the corner at the Janet Kear Hide I heard redwings in the treetops, I spotted a couple of fieldfares before I found the redwings, just half a dozen of them and very restless as if they'd just arrived.

Common darters sunned themselves on the wooden railings up to the United Utilities Hide. There were maybe a couple of hundred pink-footed geese on the Plover Field, all lined up at the far side as if queueing for a bus. I scanned each and every one of them at least twice, it wouldn't be the first time I didn't notice a barnacle goose in the crowd until somebody said something. They were all pink-feet. A couple of fields away at least a dozen cattle egrets were bouncing round the grazing longhorns.

From the Harrier Hide 

A couple of Cetti's warblers sang in the rough as I walked round to the Harrier Hide. The pool in front of the hide was quiet, just a crowd of mallards and a dozen bathing black-headed gulls. I debated taking a walk round the reedbeds and had to concede that I only had the legs for a walk to a railway station.

Marsh Moss Road 

I walked over to New Lane Station and made it with ten minutes to spare for the train back to Manchester. It was a low key sort of walk despite there being plenty of birds about. The hedgerows were busy with titmice and finches quietly going about their business. The fields were sparsely dotted with magpies and woodpigeons. Small skeins of pink-footed geese passed overhead.

As always when travelling on the Southport line it's the last leg of the journey that spoils the day out. Getting the stopping train from New Lane means I have to wait half an hour at Bolton or twenty minutes at Salford Crescent for the train to Oxford Road that on paper gives me two minutes to run across the platform for my train home but invariably gets stuck at signals at Castlefield and misses the connection by five minutes. Today it was complicated by that train home being cancelled because the train crew were stuck on a late-running train. Luckily, this time of day I only had half an hour to wait for the next overcrowded train. What larks, Pip!

Amberswood

Heron

I decided to rein in the plans for today after feeling exhausted just doing a simple errand. A pottering about sort of a day would probably be a sensible idea. I got the 132 from the Trafford Centre to Amberswood and ambled the mile and a half over to Spring View for the 609 to Leigh and thence back home. The target bird for the day was song thrush, of all things. I've had an odd couple of months where I've seen more pallid harriers than song thrushes.

Walking in from Wigan Road 

The walk in from Wigan Road was quietly busy. Robins sang and titmice fidgeted in the depths of the hedgerows. Unlike them, a goldcrest made a bit of an exhibition of itself and I got some more photos of where a warbler was a moment ago.

Amberswood 

The titmice were a lot more conspicuous at the corner of the lake. Coincidentally, somebody had filled the feeders. Great tits monopolised the feeders, blue tits and blackbirds picked up the litter underneath. Long-tailed tits, meanwhile, bounced through the reeds and willows with gay abandon, quite often coming over to give me a hard stare before flitting off on their way. I noticed that one of the goldcrests following the gang had a silver ring on its leg, trying to read the number on it turned out to be a mug's game. A treecreeper showed well, until I got my camera out of my bag. A Cetti's warbler didn't show at all but had a lot to say for itself. A water rail contented itself with a single blood-curdling squeal.

Amberswood Lake 

Goldfinches and a couple of siskins hung upside down in the tops of the alder trees as they tugged seeds out of the cones. There were lots of woodpigeons and magpies about and a steady traffic of carrion crows and jackdaws overhead.

Out on the lake the mallards and coots were very anti the little radio-controlled boat one of the carp anglers was using to drop bait. They kept well away, huddled in one corner with the mute swans and coots. The great crested grebes didn't seem to be much bothered, the two full-grown humbugs were too busy begging their parents for food and the parents were too busy studiously ignoring their begging. The dozen black-headed gulls having a wash and brush-up were similarly unmoved except when the boat came into the raft and was received with a lot of bad language until it moved on.

By Amberswood Lake 

A heron flew in and perched on a small tree next to the lake. It hadn't noticed me standing nearby until it was too late and it was committed to the landing. We spent the next couple of minutes pretending not to have seen each other. A sudden chorus of squeaks and ticks from great tits and robins heralded the arrival of a male kestrel which skimmed the treetops then flew up one of the rides towards Ince.

Amberswood 

I walked through the wood to Spring View and got the 609 in to Leigh for the buses home. There were more mixed tit flocks bouncing through the trees, robins sang and/or struck poses on twigs as I walked past and every fifty yards a wren gave me a good scolding. It had been a very pleasant and productive short walk and the weather was impeccable. Which was nice, but I didn't find me any song thrushes.

Marshside and Crossens Marsh

Pink-footed geese 

After a wet and windy night we had the promise of a nice day so I thought I'd best do something with it and went over to Marshside.

It was a bright, sunny day and surprisingly mild. A very stiff wind blew in from the South, the gentle warmth was welcome but it was hard work. It was surprising how many geese — mostly pink-footed geese — were on the marshes close to Marshside Road. There were dozens each of greylags and Canada geese and perhaps a hundred pink-feet. Then I had a scan over the marshes and saw the extent of the flooding caused by the storms. There was limited dry standing room out there..

Greylags 

Pink-footed geese 

Scores of lapwings and hundreds of wigeons were scattered about together with dozens of teal and black-tailed godwits and handfuls of shelducks and little egrets. There were a lot of skylarks flitting about, calling all the while as they flew over the road. A family of mute swans grazed in the pool that had been one of the land drains. Oddly enough, The Junction Pool had no birds on it at all

Little egret 

Black-tailed godwits 

At the corner I looked over at the salt marsh and saw a lot of water punctuated by grass. I bobbed over for a better look. It was high tide, and a high one at that, and it had overrun the marsh. Flocks of starlings fidgeted across the marsh. Further out, clouds of skylarks and meadow pipits were being stirred up by a passing great black-back. Closer to hand most of the pools were littered with black-headed gulls.

Damp salt marsh 

I crossed back and walked over to Sandgrounders, accidentally flushing a couple of greenfinches from the verge as I walked by. I was going to spend the afternoon accidentally flushing greenfinches from the verge. There wasn't a lot of loafing space left for the ducks on the lagoon and what little there was was carpeted in wigeons and Canada geese while a raft of a couple of dozen tufted ducks drifted about.

At Sandgrounders 

The birdlife at Sandgrounders was busy but distant. Wigeons carpeted the marsh, there must have been thousands of them out there. There were hundreds of teal but they were visually overwhelmed by the wigeons. There was a constant piping of redshanks, they rummaged about the margins with black-tailed godwits, starlings and a couple of ruffs.

From the sand plant

The view from the sand plant was wet marsh seething with starlings, geese and ducks. Skylarks, reed buntings and goldfinches flitted about the drier patches, black-headed gulls squabbled round the edges of pools. Most of the geese were pink-footed though most of the heads posted above the tall grass were Canada geese. There were a lot of wigeons on the marsh but most of the ducks swimming about on the water were mallards and shovelers. Way, way out on the marsh a cloud of ducks, lapwings and starlings was rising out of the long grass as a marsh harrier drifted low over. The last time I was here I was agog for a pallid harrier, today I was hoping to spot a hen harrier but had no luck today.

This ruby tiger caterpillar seemed to be on a mission.

Starlings

McCarthy's watchpoint is the promontory on the right overlooking Crossens Outer Marsh 

The walk over to McCarthy's was accompanied by the sounds of low-flying pink-footed geese and the calls of greenfinches, skylarks, meadow pipits and linnets irritated that I'd passed by too close. The ducks and geese were fine with me passing so close by but got nervous whenever I stopped to have a look round.

Greylags 

I had a sit down at McCarthy's. The greylags and Canada geese concluded that I was a thing but probably not an immediate threat. I barely registered at all with the shovelers and wigeons. There were tens of thousands of wigeons out there, spread out in thick lines along the islands and shallowly submerged ridges on the lake that is usually cropped grass. Lapwings, redshanks and black-tailed godwits fidgeted about, teals dozed, carrion crows fossicked about on the high ground by the fences. 

Shovelers and wigeons 

Black-headed gulls and lapwings

Lapwings 

Shoveler

Wigeons and pink-footed geese 

Shovelers and wigeons 

Shovelers and wigeons 

Looking out towards the river there was a great kerfuffle in the long grass beyond the fences. A male marsh harrier rose from the marsh and was mobbed by lapwings. It suddenly lunged down into the grass and disappeared from view for a few minutes. When it rose from the marsh again it was accompanied by a female-type marsh harrier. The two of them started sparring, talons locked together, and in the process disturbed a second female-type marsh harrier that must have been roosting with them. The two female-types settled back on the ground and the male drifted off, upsetting skylarks and lapwings all the way.

By Crossens River, with black-headed gulls 

Carrying on down the road the waterfowl became more distant. I noticed the big white domestic goose was back with the Canada geese. The number of times I've thought I'd found a distant snow goose only to find it's this fellow. I didn't find anything else unusual amongst the waterfowl today. Over the road the flock of golden plovers amongst the wigeons and lapwings on the inner marsh were distant dark lumps until the sunlight caught them just so, in which case they glowed dark amber.

I debated walking down the bund at the back of the marshes back to the bus stop on Marshside Road. I decided against though it looked like it would be productive. I was already feeling the effort of the walk despite having had a strong wind at my back, I didn't fancy walking into it. Any more than I fancied the ten-minute shower blowing in from that direction. I called it quits and walked up to get the 44 bus back to the station.

On the way back it looked like somebody had been busy emptying coveys of red-legged partridges onto the damp fields of West Lancashire.