Bats

Lostock Park 

I had lots of plans for a mild, sunny Saturday, slept through the setting-off times for most of them and settled down to a lazy day. I felt guilty about this so I thought I'd do a bit of local patch-watching to see if I'd have any more luck finding much going to roost than I've been finding during the day. 

The answer was no There were plenty of woodpigeons about, some joining a magpie in having one last rummage in the grass before going to bed. A wren sang. A migrant hawker patrolled the sweet chestnuts by the skateboard park. And lesser black-backs headed for the Salford Quays roost.

Barton Clough 

Lostock Park 

As the sun set the parched grass glowed eerily and reminded me of photographs taken on infrared film. I'd brought my bat detector along hoping to find something but didn't even pick up any mutterings about the bat nesting/roosting boxes. The latest candidate for my last swift of the year shot overhead bearing Southwest.

On the way back home I had a look for any bats at the station and saw a couple of soprano pipistrelles (I need the detector for the ID) flitting round the trees on Humphrey Park.

It took me more than ten minutes to walk the less than hundred yards home. Nearly all that time was spent watching another soprano pipistrelle dancing round the railings by the playing field. Yet another joined it for a moment before being chased off into the night, the victor coming back to its dance.

Wellacre Country Park

By Green Hill 

I decided that I was going to be frustrated that the day's tally hasn't got to fifty, especially as one of the birds I hadn't seen today was blue tit. Instead of getting the train back to Urmston and walking home I stayed on to Flixton and walked over to Wellacre Country Park to try and bump that total up a bit.

It was dead quiet on the Mersey at Flixton Bridge, save for a woodpigeon having a drink. Holly blues and large whites fluttered about the bushes by the road.

I walked along the path at the edge of Green Hill looking to see the usual family of blue tits in the willow trees. I didn't. Chiffchaffs, wrens and dunnocks squeaked me on my way.  Large whites, speckled woods and holly blues skittered about the brambles. A Southern hawker patrolled the canopies of dogwoods, elderberries and whitebeams. A few bumblebees visited the goldenrods punctuating the bramble patches. But no blue tits.

Goldenrod 

Mallards, coots and moorhens dozed on Dutton's Pond and a chiffchaff squeaked in the willows. The willows along the railway embankment were very quiet of anything and there were only couples of carrion crows and woodpigeons on the fields.

Walking to Jack Lane 

Jack Lane Nature Reserve 

I found a blue tit — a blue tit — on Jack Lane but I found a goldcrest first. A young moorhen fossicked about in the reedbed by the path. The single pool that was left, about the size of a table cloth and not a lot deeper, was covered in pond skaters so crowded they could barely move without colliding.

Pond skaters

A couple of swallows flew by. A chiffchaff, a robin and a wren marked my passing by. There was a reassuring clatter of woodpigeons in the treetops.

Walking down Jack Lane into Town Head there was no sign of the swarm of sand martins of my last visit. Nor any sign of the flock of house sparrows usually resident in the hedgerows.

I headed for Irlam Locks for a nosy. A few swallows flew overhead. There were sparrows in the hedgerows by Irlam Road. Collared doves sang in the background. 

Irlam Locks 

Mallards dozed by the canal. There weren't as many black-headed gulls about as my last visit but I was a couple of hours earlier this time. A few herring gulls and lesser black-backs loafed on the lock with mallards, black-headed gulls and cormorants. The great crested grebes' humbug was successfully fishing for itself. A common gull flew in. The common tern fished by the gates. Over on the water treatment works magpies, carrion crows and black-headed gulls fussed about on the pans while woodpigeons and collared doves fed in the grass. And no sand martins.

I looked downstream from the lock. A couple of mallards drifted by the bank and cormorants fished midstream. Carrion crows and pigeons loafed on the bays. Then a raven flew over and into Irlam, a beardless youth missing a few tail feathers and looking very front-heavy as a consequence.

I turned and walked back. A sand martin hawked over the field by Irlam Road. I got the bus home with a day's tally of fifty-four and a sense of seasons passing.

Marshside

Snipes

We're in the new normal where "cooler and fresher" means high seventies. It was certainly cloudier. I set out for a nosy at Marshside. 

The trains behaved themselves and lunchtime found me walking down a very quiet Marshside Road. The house sparrows, starlings and pigeons were keeping a very low profile and I didn't see any house martins overhead. A cool sea breeze made the walking very pleasant indeed.

Sutton's Marsh from Marshside Road 

I got to the reserve and looked over the marshes either side of the road. My first impression was that they looked lush and green then I realised that I was comparing them to the bleached straw colours I've been seeing the past few days, including the roadside verges here. Still, dry though they were the marshes had green grass and Sutton's Marsh was busy with greylags and Canada geese but only in the corner by Marine Drive where the ground was still damp. The white shape tiptoeing about the grazing cattle's legs was a little egret. A heron stood to one side watching for anything to be disturbed in its direction.

Greylags

The land drains and little pools away from that corner were dry and cracked. Flocks of starlings and handfuls of linnets and meadow pipits fossicked about in the grass. Black-headed gulls were few and far between. A couple of house martins hawked over the marsh and a swallow flew by. A flock of a dozen lapwings flew over the road into the marsh, followed by a couple of curlews and three snipes. They'd been disturbed by a tractor over by Nels Hide.

Tansy and, I think, white mignonette

There were still flowers in bloom along the verge but there were hardly any butterflies, just a few large whites. For all that tansy is a mass of tiny flowers it doesn't seem to be much favoured by insects. Nor were there any signs of warblers and the stonechats I sometimes see along here weren't in evidence.

There was nothing on the remains of Junction Pool except a couple of sleeping Canada geese. A sign told me Nels Hide was closed until the end of the month. I walked over to Sandgrounders. There were plenty of goldfinches twittering about and a dunnock and a chiffchaff squeaked from the old sand plant.

Canada geese, standing room only

The lagoon was crowded with Canada geese. Even the usual great black-back had to muscle its way through the throng. It found a carcass in the water and dragged it ashore to feed on it. I honestly couldn't tell what it was, it was a limp bag of whatever and looked rancid. It evidently tasted rancid, too: the gull took two bites then left it and took a long drink to take away the taste. The carrion crow that has been hanging round for seconds wasn't enthusiastic once it got its chance for a closer look.

A couple of tufted ducks and a gadwall drifted about as best could, mallards dozed, coots and moorhens pottered about the sides. A few dozen gulls, mostly herring gulls with just a few lesser black-backs, loafed in the grass beyond. Beyond them, starlings and lapwings fossicked in the grass. There was a conspicuous lack of godwits or ruffs.

At Sandgrounders 

The pool in front of Sandgrounders had been reduced to an expanse of mud with a shallow channel either side. Canada geese and coots thronged the banks. A few teal dabbled, a couple of wigeon, arrived early and still in eclipse gingery browns, grazed as best could on the island. Black-headed gulls and a lone common gull dozed in the grass further out. Little ringed plovers, mostly juveniles, skittered about on the mud.

Little ringed plovers, not so easy to spot when they're still

Snipes

The star turns were the snipes. There were over a dozen of them all told feeding in the channels. Most were juveniles with broad buff bracelines down their backs and gingery tiger-striped plumage. Four of them came close to the hide and showed exceptionally well.

Snipe

Snipes 

Snipes

Snipes

Snipe

Snipes

Snipes

Also showing well was the charm of goldfinches feeding on the thistledown on the marsh. Small family groups would break out to go for a drink before rejoining the feast, the young birds always following an adult, never going out on their own. Some of them were still young enough to be fed when they begged, they can't have been long out of the nest as adult goldfinches very quickly put a block on that. At least two juvenile linnets had attached themselves to the flock.

Goldfinches 

A last scout round found a common sandpiper lurking in a corner. I left Sandgrounders and asked myself if I wanted to walk round to Crossens and the answer was no. A scan over the salt marshes found a few herring gulls, carrion crows and swallows. A couple of cormorants flew out into the estuary. As I walked down Marshside Road a pair of stock doves flew into Sutton's Marsh and a flock of pigeons flew over to the rooftops of Marshside.

As I waited for the bus back into Southport a buzzard circled overhead with the inevitable pair of carrion crows suggesting it might want to move out of their patch.

Much to my surprise the day's tally came to forty-eight. I wasn't sure whether to enjoy the pleasant surprise or be frustrated it hadn't reached the fifty mark.

Scorchio

It was going to be a very hot day. I decided I'd take the risk and spend the day tooling about in air-conditioned trains and hope that the schedules aren't too fouled up (they were, by the by). 

The back garden is parched, there's literally one flower, a wilted rose on the Zephrine Drouaine, all else has gone over and fallen, even the hardy geraniums have packed it in. I've no idea what the holly blues, speckled woods and large whites are feeding on, though I know what they're laying their eggs on. I thought I'd best get the bird baths refilled before going out for the day. I came back in half-roasted and spent the next half hour blowing my nose. I decided against going out on an adventure. There's no excuse for this weakling stuff, back in the hot Summer of 1976, as you will doubtless have heard, we just took our second pullovers off, rolled up our sleeves and got on with working at t'mill. Which is nonsense, of course. Back in 1976 we treated it like the Second Coming, which is why people have been banging on about it for the past fifty years.

The worst of it is that in next to no time we'll be moaning about it being cold and wet all the while.

A robin has found its song in the back garden. The puzzle every year for me is whether it's one of the adults back from moult or a youngster taking over the territory. Robins tend to have short and hectic lives so it could go either way. In the absence of individual physical peculiarities or a leg ring I'm not likely to know. Anyway, there's one strutting his stuff out there sitting on a pine cone feeder singing along.

I weighed up the pros and cons of going out looking for bats this evening and decided I wouldn't bother, I'd finish the block of writing I'd set myself to do and get an early night. My typing speed is directly proportional to the amount of tea that I drink so there will be the occasional natural break. As I was washing my hands just after sunset I heard the call of a female tawny owl. It had moved on by the time I got to the front door. That's either the second or third time I've heard one passing overhead. I'm pretty sure we don't have a resident owl locally because with my sleep patterns I would have heard it.

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.