First quarter 2026

Martin Mere 
Whooper swans, mallards, tufted ducks, wigeons, pochards and pintails. 

The start to this year threatened to be a copy of the last but it changed its mind at the last minute and became grey and mushy with periodic bouts of mild days and sunshine and not the same two days running. Actually, there were weeks when it would have been nice to have had the same season two days running or even, some days, two hours running. The wind in the latter half of March just hastened this dynamic with weeks starting with sunny May days and ending in sleet and snow in high places.

After a year of flirting in the wings ring-necked parakeets became part of the back garden avifauna in January. It was inevitable really.

Mandarin ducks, Etherow Country Park
I wouldn't mind these in the garden. 

It was another Winter thin on fieldfares, I saw more in one day in March than I saw all Winter. I don't know if this scarcity was because it was so relatively mild or because the berry crop was so early. Whatever the cause it didn't seem to affect the redwings nearly as much. The huge influx of Russian white-fronted geese into the country might have been hard work to connect with had a flock not tooled up at Lightshaw Meadows for a few days. Following that, a lucky bit of goosewatching on the Ribble Estuary found both Russian and Greenland white-fronts on the same day. And it was nice to finally get close-up views of a shore lark and an Iceland gull. 

Iceland gull (front), Roundhay Park

Shore lark, Mow Cop

I added the great-tailed grackle at Speke Hall to my British List, a species that wouldn't have been on my radar in a million years. I keep toying with the idea of having another go at trying to get a photo of it.

Collared dove, Stretford

The year list to date is 150, my life list 391, and British list 312. Just out of curiosity, and I must be careful not to set myself any goals on this one, I had a look at the garden list so far this year. I'm as surprised to have seen thirty-one species of birds as I am that I've only seen or heard the wren thirteen times.

I've pottered about a bit but most of the effort so far as been Western Greater Manchester, Warrington, West Lancashire and Wirral. The pattern is entirely unintentional.

• Cheshire & Wirral 99 species
• Cumbria 44
• Denbighshire 29
• Derbyshire 29
• Flintshire 25
• Greater Manchester 95
• Lancashire & North Merseyside 122
• Staffordshire 20
• Yorkshire 40

Leasowe Common 

Despite the early arrivals of sand martins and swallows I've yet to see any. It'll come. The Spring passage has only just begun, I'll need to keep reminding myself not to go chasing here, there and everywhere to keep up with it. One can get so busy drooling at the sweetshop window as to forget to buy any sweets.

Jumbles

Jumbles Reservoir 

I was on the train heading back to Manchester. For some reason I had a look at the train departures at Bolton, no idea why as I was all for getting into Oxford Road and getting the next train back home for a bacon butty and a pot of tea. I got off at Bolton, got the Clitheroe train, which was packed, got off at Bromley Cross and headed off for a walk round Jumbles Country Park. Sometimes I'm just around for the ride, I'm not in the driving seat.

Ousel Nest Meadows 

Crossing the line at the station I walked down the road to Ousel Nest Meadows and followed the path to Jumbles. Blackbirds, song thrushes, wrens and robins dominated the songscape with backing vocals from dunnocks, woodpigeons and nuthatches and contributions from a pair of jays. Great tits, long-tailed tits and greenfinches quietly went about their business. A curlew flew by, heading for the hills as I crossed a clearing. Siskins quietly flitted about the tops of some big alders.

Ousel Nest Meadows 

Bradshaw Brook 

I got to the bridge where the reservoir outflow becomes Bradshaw Brook and looked in vain for dippers or wagtails. I crossed and climbed into Jumbles Country Park, my huffing and puffing up the gentle incline confirming that I need to get some hillwalking done to get legs and wind up to snuff before the hay fever season. The path splits here, the Kingfisher Trail following the brook down into Bolton, a walk for another day, and the other doing a circuit round Jumbles Reservoir and back to the road to the station. I had a walk round the reservoir.

Jumbles Country Park 

Blue tits, great tits, coal tits, chiffchaffs and goldcrests joined the songscape in the trees round the reservoir, though they were hard work to spot despite most of the trees still only being in bud. 

Jumbles Reservoir 

It was quiet on the reservoir. A couple of lesser black-backs loafed on buoys. Pairs of Canada geese and a single great crested grebe cruised about and mallards hugged the banks. The sun poked out properly and it was all very picturesque. 

Jumbles Reservoir 

Jumbles Reservoir 

The trains back to Bolton are every half hour. I got to the end of Grange Road, with its very busy rookery, and checked the trains. I'd have five minutes to wait for the train connecting with the airport train that connects easily with the last train home for an hour and a half. The day ended with the habitués of Oxford Road Station seeing an old man hurtle between platforms four and five and dive onto the train just before the whistle blew.

Martin Mere

Black-headed gull

I had a few errands to do this morning then spent an hour waiting at Urmston Station for the train into Manchester, which was posted as being "on time" until the last bus that would get me in quicker had gone. The songscape at the station, while delightful, was scant consolation, the blackcap in the bush behind me has a particular case for being aggrieved at a poor audience. Luckily for me, the Southport train wasn't allowed to leave platform 5 before the train I was on had arrived and stopped at platform 4 so the habitués of Oxford Road Station were regaled with the ungainly spectacle of an old man hurtling across the platform and diving through the doors just before they closed. And so I was off to Martin Mere.

The journey to Burscough Bridge went well. Lesser black-backs in ones and twos replaced the Winter crowds of black-headed gulls in Bolton town centre. Woodpigeons and collared doves canoodled in trackside trees; magpies, carrion crows and jackdaws — and the occasional pheasant or buzzard — rummaged around in fields; and the coots, tufted ducks and Canada geese on the lake at Pemberton Park were cruising about in pairs.

The rookery at Burscough Bridge Station was in full swing and noisy with it. I had feared it largely abandoned, instead the birds have left most of the large nests by the car park and have rebuilt in the trees by the football pitch behind the supermarket. It's good to find there are still some eternal verities.

By Red Cat Lane 

It was nice walking weather. The breeze was there but not as wild and unlovely as it has been. There weren't any crowds of birds in the fields, even the jackdaws were a scant dozen, but there was a lot of birds about, mostly betrayed by song. Skylarks sang over the fields. Dunnocks, robins, wrens, chiffchaffs and great tits sang in hedgerows and gardens. Goldfinches and greenfinches sang from treetops, starlings from telegraph poles and blackbirds from chimney tops. A pair of lapwings chased off a buzzard and made a kestrel feel unwelcome. A pair of grey partridges would have done a good job of being invisible if the stubble on a field margin had been a couple of inches higher. They and I pretended that they had succeeded and I passed by without incident. I had hopes to hear the song of a corn bunting, they used to be as regular along here as the tree sparrows and it's a long time since I saw either. Perhaps next time.

Small flocks of black-headed gulls — never more than half a dozen — had been flying to and from overhead all the time I'd been walking down the road. Just past Brandeth Barn another flock came over and didn't sound right. As it got closer I picked out the call of a Mediterranean gull amongst the others — to me they sound like penguins — and I managed to spot it as they passed directly overhead. My first of the year, they'd really become a bogey with me.

Martin Mere 

At Martin Mere I went straight to the Discovery Hide as usual. The mere was transformed: the acres of wigeons, teals and greylags and noisy crowds of whooper swans had been replaced by black-headed gulls noisily asserting territorial rights to nesting sites or noisily jostling for prime loafing spots on islands, and often noisily both. There were few waders, just a handful of oystercatchers and a couple of avocets. And nearly all the waterfowl were mallards, I had to work to find the teals and shovelers and even the shelducks and coots were keeping a low profile. The cattle were grazing the far bank with cattle egrets dancing attendance. A great white egret stalked the edge nearby. In the field behind a pink-footed goose grazed on its own.

Male fern croziers

Turning towards the Mere View Hide 

I headed for the Ron Barker Hide. The trees along the path held singing chiffchaffs, blackcaps, great tits chaffinches and blackbirds. Woodpigeons lumbered about, greenfinches and goldfinches bustled through the trees, wrens and moorhens skittered about.

Little egret

At the Mere View Hide, the Kingfisher Hide as was, I had a chat with a chap who was taking his new big lens for a walk and had got some fine photos of marsh harriers. A little egret was striking poses in the trees in front of the hide and a few mallards were keeping under cover. The reason being the pair of marsh harriers building a nest in the reedbeds beyond. Every few minutes one or other would sail by with a stick in its mouth before disappearing into the reeds.

Everything at Rob Barker's was keeping its distance
Whooper swans, black-headed gulls and black-tailed godwits 

A chap was leaving the Ron Barker Hide as I approached it. "The glossy ibis is showing," he said. It took me ages to find it feeding in the grass over at the side with a flock of wigeon. I was about to give up on it when I realised there was a flock of black-tailed godwits there. If I could overlook forty-odd rusty red godwits I could be overlooking the ibis. Sure enough one of the carrion crows playing hide and seek in the grass turned side on and had a long neck. The godwits were spooked by a passing marsh harrier, rose and eventually settled on the water's edge. In the confusion I lost the ibis, it took ten minutes to pick it up again. It had run about fifty yards along and was showing better in the patches of close-cropped grass in that area. It was still only a dot in the camera viewfinder though. As was everything else, even the couple of whoopers asleep on the bank. The two pairs of marsh harriers building nests and squabbling over territories in the reedbeds were even more distant.

The marsh harriers were showing well but stayed way in the distance. This male had just dropped off some nest-building material.

Oxlips

I wandered back slowly, taking in the seasonal changes, not just the birdsong and the departure of so much wildfowl: there were oxlips and campions in bloom and a brimstone butterfly passed by.

I had time to wander over to the United Utilities Hide and perhaps have a quick look at a corner of the reedbeds but I wasn't convinced I had the energy. It had been a very productive and enjoyable walk but I needed the reserves for getting back to Burscough Bridge Station. I called it quits and headed back.

By Red Cat Lane 

It was a quieter walk back. Most of the songbirds were quietly going about their business, rather to my surprise the songscape was dominated by greenfinches. A wet field by one of the farmsteads was awash with goldfinches, blackbirds and pied wagtails. And the rooks were heading back to the rookery, each new arrival in the trees welcomed by a chorus of raucous croaks.

Burscough Bridge Station rookery

I would have got home by late teatime but I either got my second wind or had a rush of blood to the head. I got off at Bolton and went for another walk.

Home thoughts

Blue tit

I thought the blackbird was running late with its pre-dawn chorus then remembered we'd put the clocks forward. It was another stupidly windy day, with plenty of rain attached to it. I caught up with my sleep and pottered about the house before going over to see my dad for tea. The birds in the back garden were in a similar mood, mooching about in the roses or the embankment ivies, the sparrows and titmice coming to the feeders, the woodpigeons coming in to bathe before returning to the crowd grazing the school playing field.

Spadgers

Spadgers

Spadger, one of the old lads

The back garden is littered with pine cones, most of which still have some suet on them. They should be hanging from branches from lengths of hairy string but the magpies have decided that hairy string is the must-have component for a comfortably lined nest. As a result they've been unpicking the knots quicker than I can tie them back up again and in a couple of cases the string had been so pulled about it wouldn't take the weight of the pine cone anyway. All part of the game, I suppose.

• Blackbird 1
• Blue tit 3
• Carrion crow 2
• Dunnock 1
• Great tit 1
• House sparrow 15
• Jackdaw 2
• Lesser black-back 1
• Long-tailed tit 1
• Magpie 3
• Robin 1
• Starling 1
• Woodpigeon 3

Sale Water Park

Mallard

March had been doing that coming in like a lamb and going out like a lion rubbish again. A night of ferocious horizontal rain was followed by a bright, sunny dawn and a howling wind. The blackbird had started singing at five to five. The others followed an hour later, first the collared dove, then the carrion crow, next door's starling squeaked out a phrase and the robin made a few noises. It was not so much a dawn chorus as a roll call.

The last time I looked at the clock before I finally dozed off it was ten to eight. I breathed a sigh of relief: I wasn't going to hurl myself about the West Lancashire plain with the wind blowing a hooley. I had no idea what I actually was going to do, mind, and it was probably this conundrum that persuaded what's left of my mind to shut up for the night and get a couple of hours' rest.

This time of year common scoters are migrating across England every night. If you're lucky, and if there's not a lot of traffic noise round your way, you may hear them flying over, I've heard them a couple of times late at night. Some of them stop off for a rest on inland waters along the way, especially if the weather's been bad, and there were a lot of birds recorded from Northwest England this morning. A female was reported at Sale Water Park first thing. I decided I'd get my monthly travel pass renewed then bob over to Sale Water Park to see if it was still around, with a bit of luck the weather would have put off the jet ski enthusiasts who use the lake at the weekend.

I renewed my travel pass, reminding myself that if I survive a while longer, and if the government doesn't move the goalposts again, what I just paid for one month would cover sixteen years of rail and tram top-up to a bus pass. I got the 263 from Oxford Road and got off at Poplar Road in Stretford. I worried I may have to call the whole walk off, it teemed down with rain as the bus went through All Saints and Hulme but by the time we got into Old Trafford the sun was shining. It was a couple of minutes' walk down to what I still think of as the bus stop,  even though it was moved thirty-odd years ago, and took the path through the hedge, across the sports field to the corner and dropped down onto the Transpennine Trail. This is one of those unofficial paths you don't see on maps but are well-trodden on the ground, the drop down the bank onto the trail can be tricky in a wet Winter but despite the overnight downpour it was okay today. And it was lovely to drop down into cover out of the bitterly cold wind.

Walking to Stretford Ees 

Stretford Ees 

Goldfinches, robins, great tits and wrens sang, pairs of blue tits snuffled about in the catkins of willow trees and a drake mallard dozed by the brook. When I reached Stretford Ees I took the path by the tramline to the river. Chiffchaffs joined the songscape and long-tailed tits skittered about in the hawthorns. Ring-necked parakeets were notably absent. Perhaps the wind was putting them off, though I generally hear them muttering all the more when they're confined to barracks in bad weather.

The river was fast but not excessively high and mallards dabbled about the banks. An over-optimistic part of me looked for dippers as well as grey wagtails on the rocks and got rewarded with neither.

Sale Water Park 

The jet-skiers were in full play on the lake at Sale Water Park. I can moan about it but fair do's, the lake was designed for water sports. They only use half the lake, this half in the corner between the tram lines and the motorway, so there was an outside chance that the scoter might be over the other side, or perhaps on the pools on Broad Ees Dole. A handful of mallards and Canada geese hugged the far bank, all the cormorants were flyovers and that was it for this half of the game.

Broad Ees Dole 

Mute swans are nesting on Broad Ees Dole. Moorhens and gadwalls pottered about on the Teal Pool. At first glance the pool by the hide was quiet, just a handful of Canada geese and a pair of gadwalls. A dozen teal were feeding in the far corner and a pair of dabchicks slowly drifted out of the reeds. A redhead goosander which had been asleep on the island woke up and waddled into view. Blue tits, long-tailed tits and a reed bunting fossicked about in the brambles by the hide. I shared the hide with a chap who was taking his young Abyssinian cat for a walk, she was more interested in the jet skis on the lake than the birds.

Wrens, robins and a song thrush sang in the trees and goldfinches twittered in the treetops. Blue tits and long-tailed tits bounced through the willows and birches along the drains and a treecreeper skittered up the tree trunks.

Mute swan

The "quiet" end of the lake was dominated by mute swans and Canada geese. There weren't many mallards or coots about, a sign they're occupied in hidden corners nest-building. I've only seen the one great crested grebe on here lately so I'm not convinced that there might be another one sat on a nest somewhere. A mixed flock of gulls — half a dozen lesser black-backs and a couple of herring gulls — dropped in for a bath. Black-headed gulls and cormorants flew by but didn't stop.

Sale Water Park 

Cow Lane 

Every so often a heavy cloud passed over the sun and early April was replaced by mid-February in an instant. Walking through the woodland along Cow Lane chaffinches, blackbirds and a bullfinch joined the songscape and parakeets screeched through the treetops. I had a sit down by the café and watched the great tits, blue tits and coal tits on the feeders. A nuthatch sidled up a tree trunk and flew over onto the fat ball feeder. I hung around a bit to see if a willow tit might turn up. In the end I decided that the wind was too strong and too cold to linger any longer and I moved on.

I had a half-hearted potter about between Barrow Brook and Jackson's Boat before calling it quits and heading home. I'd had a better walk, and better birdwatching, than I'd been expecting given the weather even if I had been disappointed in finding the scoter.

Merseyside bumper bundle

Waders, New Brighton
Redshanks and turnstones with a dunlin (first left) and purple sandpipers (on the left-hand corner of the pontoon).

The weather was billed as being cool but sunny and after the past few days I had some catching up to do. I thought I'd max out the value of an all areas Saveaway and see if I couldn't nudge the year list a bit.

I've had no luck with purple sandpipers at New Brighton for ages. One had been reported earlier in the week, I thought I'd go and see if it was still around. It was a bit of a chance as I'd be arriving just after low tide so it might be gamboling out of sight on breakwaters, if it was still there at all. If I was lucky it might be amongst the waders loafing on the pontoons on the marine lake after pigging out on the ebbing tide.

It was a mercifully uneventful journey into Liverpool and the first train in downstairs at Lime Street was the New Brighton train. It's nice when things work. 

Liverpool Docks from New Brighton

It was bright, if cloudy, when I arrived at New Brighton and there was a great swathe of exposed beach out there with not very much on it. There were more herring gulls at the station than on the nearby beach. On the beach they were accompanied by a few lesser black-backs and black-headed gull and a lone common gull. All the real gull action was going on far out at the tideline where a thick white line was punctuated by cormorants.

Redshanks, turnstones and purple sandpiper (first left)

There was a small crowd of waders on the corner of the pontoon. A few redshanks mingled with a chattering mass of turnstones and just to one side was a dunlin. And two purple sandpipers. I was happy with that. They're nice little birds. A bit of a further wander round didn't add anything to the mix so I chugged back up the hill to the station and headed for Meols.

It still rankled that I'd dipped on the black redstart at Meols so I thought I'd give it another go. I walked down nearly to the promenade but turned down Guffitt's Rake to join the Wirral Coastal Path behind the Coastguard station. This is where the bird's been seen most regularly and it looks like textbook chat country so I spent a while nosing about and looking in the adjacent fields. Lots of magpies pottering about, robins and great tits sang. No black redstart. It occurred to me that if I walked down the Coastal Path looking for wheatears I might find the black redstart, so this is what I did.

Wirral Coastal Path 

Redshanks fussed and bathed in the creeks on the beach, lesser black-backs and herring gulls loafed, a handful of curlews strutted about and a pair of shelducks had a falling out. There was a hint that the tide might be on the turn: a cloud of herring gulls rose high from the tideline and circled their way inland, complaining all the way.

Lesser black-back (left) and great black-back

A great black-back and a lesser black-back loafed reasonably close together on the open mud. It's not often they obligingly appear in the same camera frame without a whole crowd scene in the way so despite the distance I took a few photos to try and get a decent comparison shot. I didn't but this heavily cropped one (below) will do for now. Besides the size difference and the leg colours (pinkish grey for great black-back, yellow for lesser) the colour of the wings and mantle is key. This lesser black-back is quite a dark example of our local subspecies, graelsii, found around Western Europe. (There's some variation, some are distinctly lighter than this and if the light's just wrong a very pale one may set you wondering about yellow-legged gull.) Even though it's dark there's a difference between the grey of the back and the black of the primary flight feathers. The great black-back is near enough black and doesn't show this contrast. (The Scandinavian subspecies of lesser black-back, intermedius, is the same shade as the great black-back. They're uncommon in the U.K. The nominate subspecies, fuscus, the Baltic gull, is very rare in the U.K. and looks different again, having sooty black upperparts.)

Lesser black-back (left) and great black-back

Female stonechat

It was nice to see so many pairs of stonechats and singing linnets on Meols Dunes. House sparrows rummaged about in the brambles, goldfinches twittered about the trees, linnets bounced in and out of gorse bushes and stonechats struck poses on any likely twigs that took their fancy.

There seemed to have been a mass emergence of seven-spot ladybirds

A heron and a little egret fished in the pool by the groyne. A small cluster of knots loafed at the edge of the pool with a few redshanks.

Leasowe Common 

I decided I wasn't heading inland to walk the path by the paddocks. I'd promised myself a low-mud day. Besides, I could get good views of most of the paddocks between the trees from the path through Leasowe Common. Woodpigeons lined up on the fence like an identity parade (they were all woodpigeons). A movement just in front caught my eye and just as I was about to dismiss it as wind-blown debris the only wheatear of the day hopped up onto a pile of horse dung and surveyed the surroundings. While I was scanning around to see if any more wheatears were about I found a very nice, bright male white wagtail. A couple of fellow birdwatchers let on and we exchanged hopes for a fruitful Spring passage.

Stitchwort

Despite my promise to myself I took the muddy patch into the thin woodland by the pond. Titmice bounced through the trees, chiffchaffs and a reed bunting sang from willows, woodpigeons clattered about, and blackbirds, robins and wrens bustled through the undergrowth. A great spotted woodpecker was quite rude about my passing by, the woodpigeons in the nearby paddocks weren't remotely fussed.

Birch woodwort, I think,  even though it's on willow

Coots and mallards — and a couple of small, fluffy dogs that were having too much fun to listen to their owner — splashed about in the pond. The singing Cetti's warbler in the reeds can't have been more than six feet away but see it I did not. Nor the totally unexpected dabchick that suddenly started hinneying not much further away.

By the pond

I had no more luck seeing the Cetti's warbler singing in the brambles by the lighthouse. The crowd of greenfinches, house sparrows and dunnocks were more obliging but very fidgety.

Kerr's Field was busy with woodpigeons, moorhens and magpies. A curlew fossicked about and was the only wader to be seen. The only small birds were robins and dunnocks. A pair of stock doves kept themselves away from the woodpigeons and a couple of pigeons that had flown in. They were a nice surprise, I seldom see them here.

Curlew and woodpigeons

Last year it seemed I was falling over spoonbills, I've not seen one this year. One was reported as showing nicely at Marshside this afternoon so I decided that would be the last stop of the day. 

Black-tailed godwits

It was teatime when I got there and as I walked down Marshside Road the marshes were settling down for the night and the clouds had rolled in, deepening the gloom. Wigeons and teal whistled in pools. There were lots of Canada geese and a few greylags, all spaced out just outside pecking distance. There seemed a lot more mute swans than usual on the marshes and the cobs were in full display mode. Lapwings and redshanks were few and far between. A pair of great black-backs dominated the Junction Pool just by their presence. A few dozen black-tailed godwits bunched up tightly and twittered nervously. The great black-backs took flight and all the godwits went up and disappeared into the estuary. Way in the background a couple of hundred pink-footed geese rose from the salt marsh on the other side of the Marine Drive. I couldn't see the culprit but I suspect it was the male marsh harrier that made a pass over the pool by Sandgrounders ten minutes later.

Black-tailed  godwits, black-headed gulls and great black-backs

Shovelers

Shovelers

Sandgrounders was closed but I had a look at the pools from the screens. Shovelers and teals dabbled, tufted ducks and wigeons dozed. The black-headed gulls were busy establishing nesting territories. This colony's shrunk over the past few years, starting before the arrival of avian flu. I don't know why, it seems to be a trend echoed elsewhere in the Northwest.

Black-headed gulls and teal

The spoonbill was gratifyingly easy to pick up. It was on the pool across the road from Sandgrounders and it was very actively feeding. Frustratingly, it was hugging the near bank so most of the time I was just seeing its back and the top of its head. It came out into the open often enough to confirm it was a spoonbill and not two egrets playing a jape.

Spoonbill

Spoonbill

I'd misremembered the 44 bus times, I thought they were every half hour after six o'clock, they're every hour. I walked the length of Marshside Road, got the X2 into Southport and got to the station just in time to see the Manchester train close its doors and depart. So I doglegged it back, getting the train back to Liverpool and the Manchester train back. What I lost by getting home ten minutes later than planned was gained by not having to walk home from Urmston, such are the vagaries of our local train service. I was quite worn out but I'd bumped the year list up to 149 even though I'd dipped on that black redstart again.