Woolston

Juvenile grey heron, Woolston Brook 

It was a game of two halves. The morning continued the heavy rain of the night before and had a cold wind to add to the misery. The wind lingered past lunchtime but the clouds rolled away and by mid-afternoon it was a sunny Summer's day. I decided I'd have a walk down to Woolston Eyes to see how the nesting Mediterranean gulls were getting on — the reports are that they have chicks — and see if I have any luck spotting any young black-necked grebes.

Woolston Brook 

I got the train to Padgate and walked down to Woolston Brook. Blackbirds, blackcaps, wrens and robins sang in gardens and the hedgerows by the brook. The wind eased and I took my coat off as I walked along the brook. A chiffchaff joined the songscape, as did greenfinches, dunnocks and woodpigeons. A song thrush scuttling along the path had too many worms in its beak to venture a song. Blue tits marshalled youngsters through the trees like the Bash Street Kids on a school trip. Halfway along a young heron, all dark and grey, was picked out from hiding by the sun shining through the reeds.

The New Cut

The songscape was sparse along the New Cut Trail, for the most part just the occasional chiffchaff, woodpigeon or wren, the songbirds were busy gathering food for hungry mouths or herding unruly youngsters through the undergrowth. Dunnocks and blackbirds reluctantly made way for passersby, flying up into the trees on the cut if the passersby had four legs each. Song thrushes were a bit more cautious, the robins so cautious I was a long way down the trail before I heard or saw one. The warming sun brought out the butterflies, a few speckled woods and large whites skittered over the reeds in the stretch by Grey Mist. My first black-tailed skimmer of the year hawked low over a patch of borage sown behind one of the gardens by the trail. 

Ladybird larvae eating aphids
I think these are harlequin ladybirds, there were a lot of 13-, 14- and 15-spot ladybirds about.

The calls of black-headed gulls heralded the approach to the end of the cut at Woolston Weir. Just before I got there I heard an unfamiliar gull call and looked up to see a Mediterranean gull, a second calendar year bird, float over the treetops. I shouldn't have been so surprised, if there's a pair nesting on Woolston Eyes it's not unreasonable to find others nearby.

Tufted ducks

The river was high and fast after a weekend of heavy rains. A crowd of tufted ducks dozed on the river upstream of the weir and a gadwall quickly disappeared into the cover of the bank. Mallards fussed about by the bridge over the gates. As I crossed over I was escorted by a cob mute swan whose pen was on a nest in the reeds on the other side.

Woolston Weir 

The walk up and along the bank by No.2 Bed was accompanied by peacock butterflies and a thin songscape of blackcaps, chiffchaffs, Cetti's warblers and song thrushes. Black-headed gulls flew about, calling loudly whenever a lesser black-back cruised by. The views of the river were now largely obscured by a lush growth of bracken and Himalayan balsams. Every so often I'd see a few tufted ducks or a great crested grebe. Most of the time I'd just see a lush growth of bracken and Himalayan balsams.

Walking over to No.3 Bed

I was so busy worrying about fiddling with the padlock on the gate on the bridge and dropping my keys in the river that I walked past the path to the bridge, only realising I'd overshot when I got to the car park. Which shows how useful irrational anxieties are. The padlock opened first go and I was across the bridge. For once there weren't any ducks at all lurking on the river on this bend.

Blackbirds and blackcaps were doing the bulk of the singing on the other site with backing vocals from wrens, chiffchaffs and dunnocks. As I got to the top of the bank a buzzard flew over from No.2 Bed and headed westwards. Oddly, this didn't cause a clamour from the black-headed gulls nesting on this bed. Unlike the great black-back that passed by as I was settling into the Sybil Hogg Hide.

From the Sybil Hogg Hide 

A crowd of gadwalls littered one of the pools by the hide. Canada geese, coots and greylags cruised about, the greylags heard more than seen. There was a lot of kerfuffle in the distance as the black-headed gulls saw off a lesser black-back. Closer to hand a male marsh harrier rose out of the reeds and quickly flew over the river.

Blue-tailed damselfly 

The bracken and brambles by the hide swarmed with blue damselflies. There were yet more along the path. Most were common blue damselflies, they swarmed about the bracken tops. Blue-tailed damselflies flitted about the path verges with their rather fluttering flight. A few azure damselflies were mixed in with the common blue damselflies, I could see that they were different but it was only when I caught them at rest I was confident of the identification.

Azure damselfly

Common blue damselfly

I'd managed to pick out the azure damselflies — well, the male ones anyway — from the swarms but there were a few individuals that looked different again. I wasn't sure if it was just that they were freshly emerged and still not in their mature colours or if there was something else I was seeing but not registering. Luckily a couple stayed still long enough for me to take photos to check out when I got home. I had a surprise. I've often thought I'd have no chance identifying variable damselflies but it wasn't much of an issue because they're very uncommon in Northwest England so it wasn't like I'd be likely to bump into in one. Well, I was wrong. 

Variable damselfly
The wine goblet-shaped black mark at the top of the abdomen is the easiest identifying feature.

Blue tits, goldfinches and long-tailed tits fidgeted about in the trees and bushes along the path. As the path led into the meadows whitethroats churred from the brambles or jumped up into hawthorn bushes to watch me on my way. There weren't a lot of butterflies about, just a handful of red admirals. After an encouraging start it's being another bad early Summer for butterflies.

A map of No.3 Bed

From the John Morgan Hide 
The nesting rafts are on the right.

I went straight to the John Morgan Hide to see what was about. A couple of lapwings flew about, it looked like they'd finished their breeding season, I couldn't see any evidence of any youngsters. Most of the black-headed gulls were nesting on the rafts in the pool though one pair had a nest on the go in front of the hide.

Black-headed gulls 

Canada geese, gadwalls, shelducks and pochard

Canada geese, gadwalls, a few mallards and shelducks loafed and dozed. Tufted ducks and pochards pottered about or drifted on the water. Here and there a great crested grebe cruised by the reed margins. A dozen swifts hawked low over the reeds, I couldn't see any hirundines. Aside from the black-headed gull colony, a big aside admittedly, it was all rather quiet. 

The grass on the little islands was high enough to nearly hide Canada geese, the gulls on nests were small patches of white showing through. The rafts further out were carpeted in gulls. They were too far away to be able to see any youngsters though it looked like parents were feeding something at a couple of the nests. The Mediterranean gull nest was largely hidden from view from where I was sitting. I was relying on memory as to where it was and had just decided I'd got it dead wrong when I was proved right as the pair switched over and the sitting bird got up to stretch its legs and have a quick wash.

Black-headed gulls, Canada geese and Mediterranean gull (left)
(Heavily cropped photo)

Black-necked grebe 

The black-necked grebes were mostly distant and hugged the reed margins. A couple had youngsters in tow. One pair and their youngster were closer to hand but kept the reeds between them and the hide.

Black-necked grebe and chick

I decided that the cuckoo I was hearing was wishful thinking but it was very insistent and flew behind the hide and called for a good five minutes, which I concluded was convincing evidence it was real.

Walking back to the bridge

As I wandered back one of the whitethroats sang from the air before settling into a hawthorn bush. Walking down to the bridge I bumped into a family party walking up. "Is the cuckoo about?" I was asked. "Yes, it's calling now," I replied. The Cetti's warbler belting out a song by the path obligingly took a break and the cuckoo could be heard from the meadow. We parted and I walked down to struggle with the padlock on the gate and thence back onto the path by the Ship Canal.

Google Maps always tells me I'm going to take ten minutes longer to get to the bus stop at Latchford Locks than it does but better safe than sorry. I bustled by singing greenfinches, Cetti's warblers and chiffchaffs. Blackbirds, song thrushes and a chaffinch sang in the trees. I was expecting the ducks flying in out of the sun to be mallards but they were shovelers, a reminder not to make assumptions.

I had ten minutes to wait for the 5a which took me into Partington and five for the 255 back to Urmston whence I walked home. The noisy part of the breeding season is definitely over but there's still plenty about to be seen.

Home thoughts

Spadgling

The blackbird and the robin started singing simultaneously at ten to four, as if on some prearranged cue. Why any of us were awake at that time of the morning is a question for the ages.

I've been noticed

The spadgers and the blue tits are doing a good job of demolishing the suet blocks, and a better job of making the squirrels feel unwelcome at the feeder. They're a lot more careful about the magpies, and not without reason.

It occurred to me that I'm taking it on trust there's a resident blackcap, I've not actually seen it since the beginning of May. For all I know it may be a dunnock with a tape recorder.

Over the road a substantial tonnage of woodpigeons has been grazing the turf. The peak count for the week has been eighty-four birds, it's not often less than fifty birds if the kids aren't using the field.

Stretford Meadows

Whitethroat

There have been times this week when the back garden has resembled a crèche. The blue tits, great tits and spadgers park the youngsters in the rowan tree and Pyracantha bush to fend for themselves for a bit, either catching their own insects or dropping down to the feeder and having a go at the suet blocks. After half an hour or so the parents check in, there's a bit of fussing about and the family moves on as a unit to reappear later when the parents want a rest. The first batch of young goldfinches arrived today. Ordinarily I'd have feeders full of sunflower seeds for them but the advice from all the bird charities is to not do so this year to try to curb the spread trichomonosis. They'll have to make do with dandelions and nipplewort gone to seed this Summer.

I decided I'd go orchid-hunting on Stretford Meadows. In part because I didn't want to miss them like I did the cuckoo pints in Cob Kiln Wood, in part because if I was specifically looking for orchids there'd probably be more birds about than usual. And so it came to pass.

(A quick confession here: I find the marsh orchids baffling, there's lots of variation and they hybridise like billy-o so my identifications are tentative. Having said that, there's no excuse for my misidentifying southern marsh orchids and thinking they were early purple orchids the other day. I've gone back and rectified the error in the blog post.)

Stretford Meadows 

A grey, gloomy and heavy sort of afternoon kept hinting at rain. The trees at the end of Newcroft Road were seething with birdsong. Even the house sparrows joined in. Blackbirds, dunnocks and wrens provided the bulk of the chorus with support from blackcaps and chiffchaffs. For once the robins were silent. Out on the meadows every substantial bramble patch and many of the hawthorn bushes had a singing whitethroat. Goldfinches and greenfinches gamboled about when they weren't singing from saplings, song thrushes duelled from young oak trees, reed buntings from stands of great willowherb, chiffchaffs and blackbirds from the trees by the cricket ground and dunnocks from the bits of willow scrub at the edges. Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about, parakeets screeched from the treetops, jackdaws and carrions crows flew overhead, a couple of swallows zipped by, a heron flew low across the corner by the stables, a couple of mallards low over the cricket pitch. It was the busiest I've seen here for ages.

Marsh thistle

Common vetch

Southern marsh orchid

And so I looked for orchids. The Southern marsh orchids were plentiful, though mostly poking through in the depths of grasses, willowherbs or goldenrod. Here and there I found what I think are early marsh orchids, the concrete cap on the municipal tip underneath all this dampish earth would probably provide the right conditions. Then there were a lot that were best described as "almost certainly Southern marsh orchids" with variations in markings and shapes of the lower lips of the flowers. Bafflement abounded.

?Southern marsh orchid

?Early marsh orchid

Southern marsh orchid

I went looking for twayblade up top, I've found them there a couple of times. Its probably a bit early but I thought this might be a good way of bumping into a singing lesser whitethroat. I had no luck in either case.

Incoming rain

A glance to the East saw a band of filthy weather heading this way, I decided not to walk headlong into it on my way into the Mersey Valley. There are plenty enough paths up top to be able to avoid retracing my footsteps on my way back to Newcroft Road. I bumped into more greenfinches, song thrushes and whitethroats. 

At this point I consoled myself that we can't have all this green without some rain.

The teeming rain, accompanied by bright sun and dramatic lighting effects, hit a hundred yards away from the car park. I'm not sure if the great spotted woodpecker in the trees was objecting violently to me or the rain. Rather than walking home in it I got the bus into Urmston, did a shop and got the train home.

Marshside

Shoveler ducklings and mum

I really wasn't sure what the weather was going to be like today so I spent a lot of time carrying my coat around. The pollen count was set to High so I set off for the coast in the hopes that a sea breeze would keep things manageable. I had errands to do first thing so I missed the easy connection for the Southport train, rather than muck about with hanging about for connections in Manchester and Bolton I got the Liverpool train and got the Northern Line up to Southport. It takes about the same time but none of the connections are more than ten minutes' wait and the trains to Southport are every fifteen minutes.

After a grey and gloomy morning I arrived at Marshside on a bright and sunny afternoon. House sparrows, starlings and goldfinches zipped about Marshside Road, there weren't many house martins about, they turned out to be hawking over the marshes.

The marshes were largely empty stretches of grass. A few Canada goose families were dotted about Sutton's Marsh, across the road there was hardly anything to be seen. Handfuls of lapwings and redshanks were about and an oystercatcher rummaged in the grass, and I could hear skylarks and meadow pipits, but nearly all the bird life was by or in the pools and creeks. Nearly all. Three spoonbills — an adult and two youngsters — lurked in the long grass on Sutton's Marsh near the junction with Marine Drive. I wouldn't have noticed them had one of the youngsters not been skittish and chased after a little egret. I have to say that "skittish" is not a word I would usually employ concerning spoonbills.

Spoonbills, adult (left) and two youngsters

I hadn't heard much birdsong on the walk down Marshside Road save a bit of twittering of goldfinches. It came as a relief to hear a sedge warbler quietly singing to itself in the bushes near the Junction Pool and a reed warbler in the drain by the opposite corner.

Redshanks, avocet and curlew sandpiper (centre)

Four curlew sandpipers had been reported on the Junction Pool and lo and behold, there they were. Three kept together in a group feeding besides redshanks and a couple of avocets. One kept wandering about, making me keep checking to make sure there weren't five of them after all. 

Avocet, redshanks and curlew sandpipers 

A Cetti's warbler sang from the drain as I walked over to Sandgrounders. I was keeping an eye out for bee orchids on the bank, they never seem to flower from the same place two years running. This time I found two plants flowering close together with a Southern marsh orchid in between them acting as a handy marker.

Bee orchid

Southern marsh orchid

Bee orchid

The black-headed gulls nesting on the pool were unsurprisingly noisy, clamouring whenever a herring gull passed by. Canada geese, mallards and tufted ducks dozed by the banks. It felt very much like we were already in the Midsummer quiet period.

Black-tailed godwit

The black-headed gulls on the island in front of Sandgrounders and the marsh beyond sounded busy but I couldn't see much in the way of youngsters, the grass already being tall enough to hide most of the adults. Lapwings and black-tailed godwits rummaged about, all the godwits looked to be non-breeding yearlings. The shovelers had been productive and one pair paraded their brood up and down in front of the hide.

Shoveler duck

Shoveler drake

Shoveler duck

Shoveler ducklings

The avocet chicks were striking out on their own but their parents would suddenly arrive on the scene if anything remotely threatening appeared on the horizon. That included the little ringed plover having a bath in the corner of the pool.

Canada geese, avocet chicks (the tiny white figures in the centre) and tufted duck

I spent a while watching the the young birds pottering about then I glanced at the time. The day's errands were not all done yet and it was time to move on. As very pleasant interludes go, this was a good one.

Pennington Flash

Little ringed plover

Another showers and sunshine day boded slightly better late afternoon so I took a roundabout route to Pennington Flash to avoid the blackest clouds of the afternoon and struck lucky with bouts of sunshine. It's nice when the trick works.

Ragged robin

Even though it's still only the beginning of June the walk in from St Helens Road was a lot quieter than on my last visit. Robins, like the titmice, tended to be noises in the shadows or hinted at by leaves moving against the wind. Blackbirds, blackcaps and wrens sang fitfully to put placeholders on territories while they got on with the business of feeding hungry mouths.

Bradshaw Leach Meadow

Pennington Flash 

The wind was strong so most of the waterfowl were keeping to the banksides, a raft of coots by the near bank and a herd of mute swans over the other side. A few mallards and Canada geese lurked by the car park, kettled into one area by the fencing that's been put along the flash in preparation for the Iron Man swimming competition. It's occasionally easy to forget this is a National Nature Reserve.

Little ringed plover 

The F.W.Horrocks Hide can be a cold and windy place at the best of times, if it's a cool and windy day you definitely feel it. The spit was in one of it's quiet moods, the usual congregation of cormorants, herring gulls and lesser black-backs loafed at the end, mallards dozed, a pair of lapwings supervised at least one chick, and a little ringed plover skittered about the waterside near the hide.

Little ringed plover 

The black-headed gulls on the raft at the end of the spit were very active and made plenty of noise but it wasn't possible to see how productive they might have been being.

It was such a quiet walk to the Tom Edmondson Hide that it came as a relief when a chiffchaff started singing. A reed warbler riffed quietly from the Kidney Pool opposite the hide as though singing to itself. The pools at the hide were quiet, pairs of coots fed youngsters, a couple of gadwalls and mallards pottered about in the reeds. A young heron fished from the reed margins but seemed to be mostly catching insects off the surface and the occasional leaf. It's a rough learning curve once they leave the nest.

The Kidney Pool 

At Ramsdales 

It was quietly busier at Ramsdales, with the occasional burst of song from the Cetti's warbler in the usual corner. Canada geese loafed on the islands while mallards and gadwalls dabbled along the channels. I was surprised to see a drake teal out in plain sight, the teal are in deep cover this time of year. I very rarely see teal ducklings until they're nearly full grown. Lapwings fussed about well away from where their chicks were foraging. One pair made a big fuss of a little ringed plover walking too close to them.

Pennington Flash 

I decided I'd walk round to Plank Lane for the bus into Leigh. Scanning the flash from the North, to a background of singing reed buntings and reed warblers, there was a line of a couple of dozen great crested grebes cruising by the end of the Horrocks spit. It was a very orderly queue, I couldn't work out what it was about. Swifts swarmed low over the flash, oddly I couldn't see any hirundines whatever. It seemed good hunting weather for sand martins, perhaps it's just too far away from their nesting grounds.

Walking between the rucks and the canal, the canal bank's on the right

Willow warblers sang in the scrub on the rucks. I listened in vain for any whitethroats.

Greylag and goslings

Mallards and greylags cruised about on the canal. The greylags had plenty of well-grown goslings in tow. In contrast, the Canada geese still had downy yellow goslings with them on the towpath. A drake mandarin duck pottered my way then steamed off in the other direction when the camera appeared.

The mandarin duck didn't want to know

As I was taking photos of the yellow waterlilies in the marina another family of goslings rushed over in the expectation of a free meal. I made my excuses and left for the bus stop.

Yellow water lily