Hindley

Broad-bodied chaser

I've been going out for walks looking to find birds and I'm finding butterflies and dragonflies so I thought today I'd go out looking for butterflies and dragonflies and see what birds turn up. Mid-afternoon I headed out to Amberswood to look for Norfolk hawkers.

I got off the 132 at the Gregory Street stop and walked into Amberswood at the Manchester Road entrance. Almost immediately I bumped into a Southern hawker and felt a bit hurt by its complete lack of interest in me. To be fair, there was a banquet of tiny flies rising from the brambles.

Walking in from Manchester Road 

The only time of the year the gorse isn't in flower

A young great spotted woodpecker was calling from the trees about fifty yards deep into the woods. The call was so prolonged and insistent I had to double-check it wasn't a green woodpecker. The birds closer to hand were nearly all silent, an occasional contact call from a blue tit or great tit, a tut from a robin or a wren, the odd rattle from a magpie for five seconds of song from a woodpigeon. The most conspicuous birds were the dunnocks, which sort of tells you how it was.

Holly blue

In contrast, the holly blues, red admirals and large whites were all over the wayside brambles and nettles. The holly blues stayed still long enough to let me try and take their photos, something I've giving up on at home. Approaching the lake I was rather surprised to hear a couple of garden warblers singing at each other from either side of the path. The only other warbler I'd heard in the woods was the occasional squeak from a chiffchaff.

Amberswood Lake 

Reed warblers quietly sang to themselves at the lakeside and every so often I'd see one flitting between patches of reeds. Young blue tits monopolised the fat feeders at the corner by the paths, the adults fidgeted their way through the reeds. I found just the one reed bunting, and that was heard not seen. Reed buntings prefer to sit on a vantage point to sing, this one was deep in the depths of the reeds. 

Broad-bodied chaser 

The dragonflies were aggressively more conspicuous. Half a dozen brown hawkers zipped round me as I tried to see the reed bunting, the nearest passes close enough for me to hear their wing beats as they shot past my ear. A lot of the time they ran straight at me, veering away at the last minute like a game of chicken. For all there were lots of midges and mosquitos about none of them were getting close enough to land, let alone bite. A very unnerving alternative to citronella repellents. 

There were a couple of smaller hawkers, more stubby than the Southern hawker that passed by and predominantly brown with green stripes. I looked for the green eyes that would confirm them as Norfolk hawkers, easier said than done as they zipped around in the crowd. They were a lot shier than the brown hawkers, always keeping out of arm's reach. It took a few minutes before I could be sure they were Norfolk hawkers — head on, the brown hawkers had bright chestnut brown, almost red, faces while those of the Norfolk hawkers looked pale yellow, it was only when they veered and I got a side-on view that the milky bright green of the eyes became apparent and it took a few goes to be sure I wasn't just wishing it so. Another puzzling factor, almost certainly down to refractions and reflections, was that when they were flying at me the Norfolk hawkers appeared to have a golden sheen to the wings, nothing like as deep as the rich amber tones of the brown hawkers. Seen from below the wings were dead clear. The broad-bodied chasers posing for the camera on stems were a much more straightforward proposition.

Broad-bodied chaser 

Broad-bodied chaser 

Amberswood Lake 

Out on the lake the great crested grebes had a nest on the go, a couple of young black-headed gulls sat on the water catching emerging midges and the coots were busy feeding their second brood. A couple of dozen mallards loafed on the bankside muttering at passersby.

Meadow brown

On the way out to Liverpool Road the drifts of thistles by the pathside were buzzing with bees and butterflies. For all that there were plenty of commas, red admirals, peacocks and painted ladies the meadow browns and gatekeepers outnumbered them three to one.

Gatekeeper 

I crossed the road over to Low Hall where woodpigeons and song thrushes sang in the trees. Mallards, moorhens and the pair of mute swans moved in slow motion as they fed on the pond. Even the coots didn't have the energy to squabble. Titmice bounced through the trees, blackbirds and robins disappeared into the shadows under trees and the first jackdaws and woodpigeons flew overhead to roost. 

Low Hall 

There were fewer butterflies about than at Amberswood, but lots more damselflies. The dipping pool, particularly, was busy with common blue damselflies and I noticed a couple of blue-tailed damselflies zipping through some sedges.

Common blue damselfly 

I checked the bus times and found that the 559 to Bolton was due in ten minutes. Given that I'd miss the 132 back to the Trafford Centre whichever way I got back to Hindley town centre I decided to get the 559 and get the 20 back to the Trafford Centre from Over Hulton. In the ten minutes I waited for the 559 there was a definite passage of peacock butterflies over the road from Low Hall to Amberswood, perhaps they were heading to roost, too. Or perhaps they'd heard the thistles were doing good business.

Southport scorchio

Tufted duckling

It was a day that looked cloudy but wasn't. The smoke haze hung over Stretford and Manchester like a mist. The plan yesterday has been to nip over to Marbury Country Park to chase after the Caspian tern that spent most of the day there but the combination of heat, pollen and smoke laid me low after an atrocious night's sleep where I'd have been better not sleeping at all. Today I would run away from the smoke, I decided, and have a day at the seaside.

For once I had the sense to sit on the Northern side of the train to Southport and not melt my face off before arrival. We left the smoke behind just after Bolton and arrived in Southport to clear blue skies and a pleasantly fresh breeze that let me pretend it wasn't Very Hot.

Walking down Marshside Road most of the marshes were given to woodpigeons, starlings and house sparrows, the roadsides the haunt of goldfinches, a couple of whitethroats and a sedge warbler, as well as rather a lot of meadow browns, peacocks and a bewildering medley of assorted bees. I'm nearly up to speed on the bumblebees and carders so long as I've got a crib to check my guesses, I'm well out of my depth with the rest. House martins hawked high over the dry marshes, swifts low over the areas of greener grasses where the ground still held some moisture. The cattle had been split into two herds, one waiting by the roadside to be told where they were to be deployed, the other being taken to graze by the stretch of cracked mud that should be Polly's Pool. 

Part of the herd that crops the marshes

There was water only in the deepest drains at the end of the road, the others, and Junction Pool, were dry. Most of the birdlife was concentrated at this end of the marsh. Canada geese and a few greylags pottered about, a small crowd of gulls littered the area near Sandgrounders, black-headed gulls near the pools, herring gulls and a few lesser black-backs on the dry marsh.

Little egrets

Heron

A large bird in the distance caught my eye as it flew over the salt marsh into the estuary. Thinking it a marsh harrier I was puzzled when I got the binoculars and saw that it had a pale belly and head. I don't see ospreys often enough in places I wasn't already expecting to see them, the penny's always slow to drop.

Greenfinch

The verges by Marine Drive were busy with butterflies and bees. Greenfinches sang in the hawthorn bushes by the marsh, goldfinches from the trees on the sand plant across the road. Swifts darted low over the road and I was becoming very grateful to that cooling wind. There was a kerfuffle on the marsh, lapwings and black-headed gulls rising up and half a dozen curlews flying away. I couldn't see the cause and the remaining birds settled down almost immediately. Perhaps the heat was getting to them, too.

The excellent year for painted ladies continues

Common blues

The lagoon by Sandgrounders was busy with black-headed gulls, coots, Canada geese, mallards and cormorants and I almost missed the couple of spoonbills asleep in the corner.

Black-headed gulls, black-tailed godwits, herring gulls and Canada geese

Tufted duckling

There was a limited amount of water in front of Sandgrounders. Tufted ducks, mallards and shovelers made the most of it. One mallard had a couple of tiny ducklings with her. The tufted ducklings were striking out own their own, barked to attention every so often by their mother. Lapwings and ruffs bustled about the water margins, all the small figures fidgeting about on the banks were either starlings or goldfinches. Thick bands of densely packed black-headed gulls and black-tailed godwits loafed on the dried mud beyond. Most of the adult godwits were still in breeding russets and gingers though some were already showing signs of moulting. The youngsters caused me to look twice as besides being in non-breeding greys and beiges they were significantly smaller than the adults and with slightly shorter bills.

Ruff

Despite being so late in the late session this lapwing kept giving come-hither signals to passing males.

Tufted duck

Black-headed gulls, black-tailed godwits, herring gulls and Canada geese

Black-headed gulls, black-tailed godwits, herring gulls and Canada geese

Canada geese and spoonbills

On the way out of Sandgrounders I got a better view of the spoonbills on the lagoon. Out over the salt marsh skylarks flew in and out of the long grass and herring gulls fussed about on the shore of the estuary. A female marsh harrier flew in from the estuary and started hunting over the distant marsh before floating off in the direction of Banks Marsh.

Poppies

Peacock

I decided against having a long walk round, I was feeling the heat somewhat. I headed back to Southport for the mid-afternoon train back so I'd be able to avoid the rush hour. As I walked up Marshside Road a brute of an immature great black-back flew into Sutton's Marsh. Give it a few months' experience and it'll be putting the fear of God into the flocks by the pools.

Starlings on the fog bell

And then there was the journey home…

The train back to Oxford Road struggled to get past a slow canter and finally gave up the ghost in Bolton. Luckily, I thought at the time, the next train into Manchester wasn't one of the ones cancelled due to signalling problems so I got in half an hour later than planned but still three-quarters of an hour too early for the train home so I got off at Deansgate for the 255 back to Stretford. This is not the year Manchester City Centre avoids having it's annual Midsummer transportation meltdown. One of the reasons I disapprove of replacing train services with trams, besides the years' worth of travel disruption, is that for all their myriad, obvious faults the rail networks aren't shut one month out of every twelve for repairs. The city centre gridlock and the additional demand on the bus services meant that the bus was heaving and running forty minutes late by the time it got to Deansgate. The driver collapsed with heat stroke in Old Trafford and had to be carried off into the bus shelter for to be given air and water by passengers. The 256 which was running forty-four minutes late was right behind, so I got that home. Which sounds heartless but I would have been no damn use to the driver.

Leighton Moss

Blue tit

By ordinary standards it was a very hot day but compared to last week it was bearable so I decided on a trip out, if only to escape the passing wafts of smoke from the moors. I got me an old man's explorer ticket and headed up North for a visit to Leighton Moss. I didn't feel up to anything strenuous after feeling rough all weekend, a gentle toddle round the reserve would do me good.

As has become my custom I stayed on the Barrow train and doubled back to Silverdale, giving me a couple of chances to see what was about on the North side of Morecambe Bay. On the way up I noticed that the pool at the Allen Hide was almost bone dry. There was still water by the Eric Morecambe Hide though a large strip of open mud attested to how dry it's been. A herd of swans fed in the outer pools, there were definitely lapwings, black-headed gulls and black-tailed godwits in the high tide roost, I suspect I missed a lot of other waders in the passing glance I had as the train slowed for the level crossing and the station. I reckon I miss more than half of what's out there when I pass a crowd scene like this on the train. I've learned to be philosophical about it, it's better to be sure of recognising and recording something than being unsure about everything and not even recording that.

The tide was high so although the Cumbrian salt marshes were bone dry, the grass parched and the mud cracked, there were crowds of waders and gulls at the edges. On the Meathop side of Arnside Viaduct it looked like about a hundred black-tailed godwits huddled by the water's edge, a few curlews stood out from the crowd, some other shapes might have been redshanks. Black-headed gulls littered the shore by Grange-over-Sands, marauding gangs of carrion crows did the rounds and despite the lack of water in the pools little egrets seemed to be making a living. The lack of shelducks wasn't surprising — this time of year they decamp en masse to join huge moulting flocks on their traditional sites, the ones from Morecambe Bay probably join the flock in the Mersey Basin — the lack of oystercatchers was, a bit.

The salt marshes of the Leven, also dry, were given over to woodpigeons, crows and little egrets while swallows hawked low over the ground. Oddly, there weren't any ducks of any kind on the river as the train passed over. I had six minutes to wait for the train back from Dalton where the buddleias and bedding plants were busy with butterflies and you cannot imagine how much effort I've put into trying to avoid that outbreak of alliteration but couldn't come up with anything that wasn't even clumsier. Red admirals, large whites, meadow browns, small tortoiseshells and painted ladies fussed about the platform. A definite bounce-back after a sub-par May and June. On the way back there was a handful of eiders on the landward side of the viaduct over the Leven and some redshanks on the banks of the Kent at Arnside, which restored my faith in the scheme of things.

Juvenile robin

Given it was a bright, sunny afternoon Leighton Moss was remarkably quiet. On arriving I drifted over to The Hideout to get my eye in. The feeding stations are still suspended so there wasn't the usual frenzy of activity but there were plenty of small birds quietly going about their business in the trees and bushes, notably a chiffchaff urgently fidgeting its way through the bush by the hide, gleaning insects from the leaves and dashing out every so often for a bit of flycatching. As I left the visitor centre and headed for Lilian's Hide a treecreeper landed in a tree I was passing by. I took the opportunity to stand in a patch of deep shadows to watch it.

Treecreeper
You might want to look twice at those feet.

 

At Lilian's Hide 

There were lots of ducks on the pool at Lilian's Hide and all the ones I could see were mallards. A family of mute swans drifted over the other side of the pool and coots were liberally scattered all around. There was no sign of any gadwalls, pochards or tufted ducks. The cloud of swifts and sand martins swirling over the pool probably substituted for them weight for weight. There must have been plenty of midges about, they weren't just providing meals for the birds, the dragonflies were getting plenty, too. As well as the usual broad-bodied chasers and brown hawkers there were a couple of emperor dragonflies on the hunt. Less conspicuously, a reed warbler flitted about in the depths of the reeds in front of the hide and a blue tit was busy pulling the heads of reedmace to bits.

Bramble
There was a lot of these tiny brambles along the path in the trees. The flowers were about half an inch across, This plant was about three inches high.

A reed warbler sang by the Sky Tower as I walked down to the reedbeds. All the other small birds were silent shadows disappearing behind leaf cover, even the robins. Especially the robins. 

Walking into the reedbeds

I had to tiptoe around a lot of common blue damselflies as I walked through the reedbeds. Speckled woods and red admirals fluttered about and I was buzzed by a careless brown hawker.

Speckled wood

The Tim Jackson Hide was very quiet of birds, just a mallard and a family of coots. The oystercatchers had moved on from their nest, I couldn't see any signs of how successful or not they had been. The pools were lively with broad-bodied chasers and black-tailed skimmers and at the speed they were zipping round it was hard to tell which I was looking at most of the time.

Great black-back
If a great black-back is on the warpath and has noticed you this is the best angle to see it from.

The walk to the Griesdale Hide was also quiet, save for a few noises off from a great tit in a willow tree as I passed by. This lack of welcome was extended by a great black-back circling the hide at treetops height. It called menacingly once it spotted me and turned back for another look. I thought I was in for a torrid time but it passed low over, turned for another look, called to remind me I was being watched and carried on with its circuit of the pool. Relief was the word, I've had close encounters with arctic terns and arctic skuas and I reckon a great black-back would be a couple of orders of magnitude worse than that. I settled in the hide and sat down as the gull settled on the nest platform. I couldn't see the cause for concern, the chick was missing from the nest. The gull set off for another lap, calling all the time. Something was definitely up. I noticed that the cormorant that usually loafs in the tree next to the platform was in another tree way over to the left. I also noticed there were no ducks or coots on the pool, only a couple of greylags. Then I noticed the juvenile great black-back sitting under the reeds.

Juvenile great black-back

The adult came back to settle on the nesting platform but just as it was landing it spotted something and was off. It chased a female marsh harrier right across the reedbeds and over towards the causeway. A bit uncalled for, if you ask me, the young gull was at least the same size as the harrier and looked rather a lot heavier so I doubt it was in danger from that quarter.

I walked back, adding some common darters, azure damselflies and a large red damselfly to the tally and wishing some of the other damselflies would keep still long enough for me to work out what I was looking at. The dark shape speeding overhead out of the sun turned out to be a woodpigeon. It's become a great year for hirundines and dragonflies but a dry one so far for hobbies.

Common darters

The new Lower Hide's been open for ages and I've still not had a look at it. I decided I'd make an afternoon of it and get the later train back to Manchester so off I set. The roadside buddleias were awash with butterflies and bees and swallows hawked low over the field by the path to the boardwalk.

Peacock

The boardwalk was eerie quiet. The causeway wasn't much better but had least had swifts swirling round overhead to confirm the presence of birdlife. Not a sound from any warblers — not even Cetti's warblers — or wrens.

The causeway 

The causeway pool 

The causeway pool was busy with mallards, mute swans, coots and about a dozen gadwalls which looked like a family group. An absence of great crested grebes was noticeable.

It was a lovely walk down to the Lower Hide, the trees provided dappled shade and the wind took the edge off the heat of the sun. Blackbirds, robins and squirrels rummaged about under the trees and bushes, titmice silently bounced through the trees and me and a rabbit pretended we hadn't seen each other. All very pleasant.

Walking down to the Lower Hide 

The Lower Hide 

From the Lower Hide 

The new Lower Hide is very nice indeed. Unfortunately, with the sun full on the windows it was also stiflingly hot. There were more mallards, coots and mute swans. There were also three full-grown shoveler ducklings that spent more time pecking each other than doing anything constructive.

I walked back to the visitor centre for a much-needed cold drink. Leighton Moss was in one of its quieter moods, both in terms of visitors and wildlife, but had still been well worth the visit.

Red admiral

Silverdale Station was also awash with butterflies.

Meadow brown

I did a shop on the way home so it was getting on a bit when I got back. The sun was low and sitting in a clear blue sky looking to the West. To the East a large orange and purple cloud rose from the horizon. It takes ages to get a moorland wildfire under control, the dry peat burns underground as well as on top.

Home thoughts

Juvenile blackbird

Another hot day started with a thin and patchy dawn chorus kicked off by the robin, the only time he sang all day. The collared dove kicked in after the robin finished, a quarter of an hour later his rival from down the street came over for the usual morning punch-up then they sang at each other for half an hour. The wren had been about, he and one of the blackbirds had escorted a cat out of the garden earlier, but he waited until he was sure the collared doves had packed in before giving five minutes' worth of song. The blackbird didn't even give it five minutes when he took his turn. The woodpigeons had just started their turn when I finally dozed off.

I'm not seeing much use of the bird baths because I've put them all under shady cover. A damp blue tit confirmed they are in use. The spadgers are mostly dust bathing under the Pyracantha bush. And the blackbirds are sunbathing on the rooves of wash houses and garages.

The school playing fields have been deadly quiet the past few days, mostly the haunt of a few woodpigeons and the local flock of pigeons tend to call in at midday. The family of carrion crows, two youngsters and their parents from the nest over by the old library, come in late teatime. One of the youngsters must have found something really good this evening because four lesser black-backs appeared from nowhere to try and mug it from them. The crow family tore in like the Seventh Cavalry and one of the adults chased off the gulls. Then stole whatever it was from the still-bewildered youngster.

Wildfire haze

Every year in the hot spells we get a few days of hazy skies as some dozy pillock or other manages to set fire to a bit of the Pennines. This weekend it's been the moors above Dovestones that's been set ablaze, it's twenty-odd miles away but the prevailing wind has been blowing the smoke this way. It was particularly bad this evening when I was working in the front garden. I thought we'd have the consolation of a spectacular sunset but it turned out to be a bit of a fade into beige. The swifts have spent all day hawking way above the haze, only coming down into sight late on when bits of clear sky started asserting themselves.