Pennington Flash

Mute swan

The heatwave had arrived. I headed over to Pennington Flash, partly because there's plenty of tree cover, partly because if need be I could buy an ice cream, mostly because a couple of little terns had been reported there.

It was very quiet on the walk in from St Helens Road. I could almost hear the common blue damselflies zipping through the grass on the verge. A wren reassured me that I hadn't gone deaf. It was that sort of day so I stood on the bridge over the brook and watched the minnows swirling round in the brook.

Minnows 

Juvenile black-headed gull

Canada geese monopolised the shade on the car park, leaving the mallards and black-headed gulls to sit by the flash. More were offshore, drifting about in rafts to keep cool then charging onshore to have a peck at the grass before retreating back to the water. Not that there was much grass in any shape to be eaten: what hadn't been beaten down by the feet of people and waterfowl had been fried to a frazzle. A herd of mute swans cruised off the far bank, a small raft of mostly herring gulls with a handful of lesser black-backs spread itself across the midwater. A common tern flew over and started fishing over by the swans and a Cetti's warbler sang from the far bank, which I decided was a good omen because I was in the mood for wanting one.

Coots and mallards and Canada geese 

I wondered if I'd encounter the Egyptian geese back for their regular late Summer appearance. They honked as they passed by.

Egyptian geese

From the F.W.Horrocks Hide 

Even the F.W.Horrocks Hide was warm, but significantly cooler than outside so a definite relief. Mallards, coots and lapwings loafed about the near end of the spit, a few pied wagtails dashing about between them fly-catching. There were plenty of black-headed gulls about and much activity still on the nesting rafts off the end of the spit. The great crested grebes were still sitting on the nests beside the rafts. Woodpigeons and stock doves rummaged about in the grass and the usual motley assemblage of mallards, herring gulls, cormorants, coots and lapwings clustered at the end. 

I scanned round for anything that might be a little gull or black-necked grebe. All the small dark objects emerging off the spit were the heads of tufted ducks that had been diving for food. A common tern standing by a couple of black-headed gulls reminded me that though they're a similar length the terns always look very much smaller because they've got such short legs. A couple of small birds took flight from the crowd. At first I just saw a flurry of wings and thought they were waders, then as they rose above the crowd I could see they were terns and at that size could only be little terns. They did a quick circle over the end of the spit and disappeared back into the crowd. A brief and unsatisfying sighting but a tick all the same.

The Kidney Pool 

A mixed flock of great tits, blue tits, long-tailed tits and a chiffchaff bounced through the trees as I walked round to the Tom Edmondson Hide. A blackcap sang a phrase from deep cover and a sedge warbler scratched out a few riffs from the side of a small pool. A look at the Kidney Pool found me some mallards and a reed warbler not convinced that it wanted to sing its song right through to the end. It didn't, it ended in mid-riff and got back to the business of getting a beakful of insects for the kids back home.

The Tom Edmondson Hide was as quiet as the Kidney Pool, half a dozen near full-grown mallard ducklings skulked in the reeds with a family of coots.

The view from Ramsdales Hide 

Things were busier at Ramsdales but harder to see as the reeds have shot back up in the past couple of weeks. The lapwings had chicks running about pretty much fending for themselves while the adults kept a watchful eye from a distance. Mallards and Canada geese loafed. I could see no little ringed plovers, which doesn't necessarily mean they weren't there. Another mixed tit flock worked its way through the willows on the right of the hide then bounced through the reeds and into the trees to the left of the hide. A willow tit churred as it flew in the opposite direction.

Walking round to the canal from Ramsdales 

It was too warm for a long walk round. I found myself clinging to the shadows. I clung onto them all the way round to Plank Lane.

Female common blue damselfly 

Common blue damselflies were everywhere and swarmed about the pools, brown hawkers patrolled the pathways and the wayside was littered with red admirals and meadow browns.

Looking over towards the spit

I got to the gap in the trees giving the view of the end of the spit and looked for the little terns. My concentration on the task wasn't helped by the reed buntings and reed warblers singing beside me or the brown hawkers, black-tailed skimmers and red admirals flitting across my line of view. You get a good view of the end of the spit here but it is distant. What usually looks like a block of birds from the hide is actually a line of birds on the waterside and another line just offshore along a series of rocks and small mudbanks. From where I was standing today this latter looked like an orderly queue for the bus. A couple of cormorants, some mallards, a couple of tufted ducks, coots, more mallards, black-headed gulls, a common tern, two white blobs, a mallard… I looked again and tried my best to get a photo but it's too far away for this camera. The common tern looked half as tall as the black-headed gull standing by its right shoulder but looked nearly twice as tall as the little terns standing to its left. Both these looked like adults but at that distance I'd not be swearing to it.

The little backwater, I'm sure it must have a name

Further along the little backwater was awash with common blue damselflies. A couple of emperor dragonflies hunted over the pool, giving me some opportunity to get photos of the airspace they'd been in a moment ago. Every so often there'd be a moment where a sound like the crushing of dry parchment indicated that individuals of our two biggest dragonflies — emperor and brown hawker — had almost collided and were squaring off in midair. Each time they'd hover a moment, fly in synch for less than a second as if sizing each other up then zip off in opposite directions. It would have been curtains for any smaller dragonfly.

The rucks

I got to the rucks and looked at the path rolling over the tops towards the canal and for some reason thought of John Wayne in "Genghis Khan." I decided to stick to the path through the trees by the flash.

Wild carrot

Tufted duck and ducklings

I kept looking out for any black-necked grebes but found mallards, coots, great crested grebes and tufted ducks. A couple more of the grebes were sitting on nests. I was surprised to see a tufted duck and her ducklings nesting out in the open.

Great crested grebes
The grebe steaming in from the right was doing running repairs of the nest on the left.

Pennington Flash 

A family of willow warblers dashed about in the trees on the bankside, the youngsters having their attempts at flycatching supplemented by their parents. I hadn't heard or seen any chiffchaffs and didn't until I got to the car park on Slag Lane.

I checked the bus times. I had ten minutes for the five-minute walk to the stop in Plank Lane for the bus back to Leigh. I spent a minute of that checking that all the common blue damselflies on the yellow waterlilies in the marina were all common blue damselflies, just in case.

Longendale

Robins

It was a warm day, we're building up for the heatwave that's already arrived down South. A gentle toddle of a walk was called for so I headed over to Hadfield to do a mile or two of the Longendale Trail.

Along the way I counted the large white butterflies the train passed where ordinarily I would have been counting woodpigeons. Why not count both? you wonder. Well, apparently it's either/or. You see one or the other. Much in the same way you don't see Bruce Wayne and Batman riding a tandem.

One feature of the Hadfield line is that whichever direction of travel you're facing between Glossop and Manchester, you're facing the other way between Glossop and Hadfield. Which is why I was facing backwards as we passed Dinting Junction. I don't usually expect to see much as the trains passes the trees here, an occasional squirrel is a highlight. So I was surprised to see an adult tawny owl sitting on a tree by the trackside, half asleep watching the trains go by. Luckily, I was travelling backwards so I could keep an eye on the retreating figure and confirm I wasn't seeing things. Also luckily it was a stretch where not many trees come right up to the trackside so there wasn't a lot of leaf cover in the way. Both my recent encounters with tawny owls have reminded me that they're seriously chunky birds.

Starting the trail

I got off at Hadfield and walked round the corner and onto the Longendale Trail. Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about in the trees by the path, a chiffchaff sang, I could hear the thin contact calls of young robins to their parents. I got ready for another walk full of hints and whispers of small birds. And I was surprisingly wrong.

Robin, with a bustle of old feathers waiting to moult

A couple of blackbirds rummaged about the old trackside, a juvenile dropped down out of a tree onto a wayside seat the better to have a look at me as I walked past. A young robin flitted across the path and disappeared into a hawthorn bush, where it started begging calling. An adult robin with a preposterous bustle of unmoulted back feathers dropped out of the bush to hunt on the path, grabbing a beakfuls of insects and flying back to feed the youngster.

Juvenile blackbird

There was a passage of jackdaws overhead, flying down to feed on the fields by Bottoms Reservoir. They passed over in small groups of half a dozen or so birds, each group sounding like fifty. 

Juvenile robin

A little further on a juvenile robin sat by the old trackside watching passersby. It was old enough to be fending for itself though the wing-twitching when an adult flew into the next bush suggested it was still being fed occasionally. In a week or two there'll be enough red on its chest for its parents to be chasing it off their territory.

Juvenile robin

Although the robins were showing well the titmice, blackcaps and chiffchaffs were keeping to cover. As the path reached the open cover above Bottoms Reservoir a song thrush ran across the path and started fossicking about under the hedgerow. A few goldfinches, and fewer greenfinches, twittered about in the trees and hedgerows.

The trail opens up above Bottoms Reservoir 

Agrimony

The grassy verges, more knapweeds, vetches and agrimony than grass, were busy with meadow brown butterflies and an assortment of bees. Swallows flew low over the fields above and below the trail, chattering as they passed overhead. Down from the path jackdaws and rabbits outnumbered the sheep in the fields.

Rabbit

Bottoms Reservoir 

The reservoir was showing what a dry year it's been. Caravans of Canada geese strung across the water as they shuttled between the banks. A few lesser black-backs flew low over the trees by the side, there were more of them loafing with a crowd of black-headed gulls over by the dam.

The Longendale Trail 

I walked up as far as Valehouse Reservoir and had a sit down. A willow warbler a couple of trees away made a point of ignoring me. An oystercatcher flew by. A couple of rooks flew over to join the jackdaws. It was a not unpleasant quiet July afternoon out in the open country.

Small skippers courting

I made my way back. I noticed a lot of small skippers in the wayside. You can bet your boots I had a good look to make sure they were small skippers. A chiffchaff made itself known in the hedgerows as I passed.

As the embankments rose over the path it looked like every family of robins had come out of cover to present itself to the world. Some youngsters will soon be chased out into the world, some had barely left the nest. One proud parent with a couple of downy youngsters sat on a bare twig in a patch of sunlight posing for old men with cameras.

Robins

Robins

Robins

The lighting was challenging, the backlighting of the robins and the background in deep shade ran the risk of burning out the figures of the robins but the photos turned out okay. I had less luck with the young robins being fed at the top of the opposite embankment.

Juvenile robin

I was so engrossed in the beauty pageant on the embankments I didn't notice the brown hawker patrolling about me until it did a close fly-by of my left ear.

I had ten minutes to wait for the train at Hadfield. I spent the time watching the swifts wheeling lazy circles over the station. I looked out for the owl on the way back but it had moved on. It must have known I had my camera ready this time.

Mersey Valley

?Essex skipper, Stretford Meadows

Yes, I did watch the football, and yes, I did have eyes like peepholes in the snow all morning. It was a fine, bright day and not too hot. The back garden is looking like the Lost City of the Incas but I decided against doing anything about it. Yesterday's short effort at reining in the tall grasses and goose grass, and the two hours spent sneezing consequently have convinced me that it would be wise to wait until the end of the hayfever season then blitz the lot. Which is good news for the wrens, they sound as if the youngsters are out of the nest and would benefit from the extensive cover.

By mid-afternoon I'd decided I wasn't for lolling about all day. Seeing all those marsh helleborines at Nob End the other day reminded me I should go and look out for the broad-leaved helleborines on Sale Water Park. If I walked over via Stretford Meadows I could also see if I could find the twayblade I found on the mound the year before last. And if I put the effort into looking for the twayblade I might accidentally encounter a lesser whitethroat, they've been conspicuous by their absence on the meadows this year.

A rather nice large-flowered pink bramble by the car park

Stretford Meadows 

Blackbirds, song thrushes, wrens, a blackcap and a chiffchaff sang in the trees by the car park on Newcroft Road. Dozens of ringlets and large whites skittered about the drifts of thistles and great willowherbs, a few red admirals chased around the the nettle patches. Whitethroats sang from the large hawthorns out in the open, a couple of them performing their flying songs, longer and with more trills, crescendo to the top of the flight and diminuendo as they drifted back down to the trees. Squadrons of woodpigeons passed overhead, moving from the fields and woods by the river into the town centre for who knows what reason.

Meadow brown

Meadow browns fluttered deep in the grasses and vetches out in the open country. Up top of the mound, where the song thrushes sang from the little oak trees, the grasses are finer and shorter. I don't know why, it has a cropped look about it but I've seen neither rabbits nor rabbit droppings here. My eye was caught by a small heath which somehow disappeared into a patch of fine grasses and low-growing white clovers. I had no luck finding the twayblade. Nor any lesser whitethroats. 

Cinnabar moth caterpillar 

Not for the first time I wished I was better at identifying the grass moths and not for the first time I had to concede I'm unlikely to get any better at it. The cinnabar moths were unmistakable, even in caterpillar form. Small skippers fluttered about the clovers, vetches and vetchlings, keeping low in the cover of the stems and grasses, not often giving me much chance of getting a photo. Having said that, they were infinitely more accommodating than the birds. Even the goldfinches were twittering from deep in the bushes and the magpies were noises off in the long grass.

Small skipper

A few skippers were showing well as they fed on red clover flowers. As I took their pictures I felt there was something very slightly different about them. I recalled reading the other day about the spread of Essex skippers into Northwest England, including high numbers being found on Woolston Eyes. I also recalled looking up the identification criteria and thinking: "No chance." I looked them up again and had another look at the skippers in front of me. In the end it was the black ends to the antennae that finally persuaded me. Then I persuaded myself I was wrong. And I'm still not sure. There were lots of small skippers about and at least two of them were probably, possibly Essex skippers.

?Essex skipper

?Essex skipper 

Three song thrushes sang a duel in the hawthorn bushes around the bramble patch surrounding a plum tree, drowning out the songs of a blackbird, a whitethroat and a dunnock. For a moment I thought I heard a lesser whitethroat tutting at me from the brambles but was deafened by song thrushes before I was sure and after ten minutes I had to give up on hoping I might hear it again or go mad. 

Hold your plums

Stretford Meadows, walking to Stretford Ees 
The fence really does bend like that, its not a camera artefact.

Blackcaps, blackbirds, chiffchaffs and a whitethroat sang in the hedgerows as I walked over to Stretford Ees. Families of long-tailed tits moved like shadows in the trees, young great tits were called back into cover by their parents. Brown hawkers patrolled the waysides, gatekeepers and red admirals fluttered about the brambles.

Passing under Chester Road 

I passed under Chester Road and walked on beside Kickety Brook. Magpies and woodpigeons barged about in the treetops, song thrushes and wrens sang, goldfinches twittered, parakeets screeched. And  for all that the only birds I was actually seeing were the carrion crows flying overhead.

Walking by Kickety Brook 

The pigeons sat, evenly spaced in a line, on the support girder for the aqueduct arch as I walked underneath. In retrospect I should have risked upsetting them and got a photo so this post would have had a picture with some birds in. It's that time of year. Insects, flowers and landscapes will feature over the next couple of weeks.

Stretford Ees 
The tramline to Altrincham is behind the fence.

Large whites, ringlets, small skippers and peacocks fluttered about the brambles and hedgerows of Stretford Ees. Whitethroats sang in the scrub by the gate, blackbirds, chiffchaffs and song thrushes in the trees. The wrens were silent, stopping only to give me dirty looks before retreating into cover. I was struck forcibly by the difference between knowing there were robins out there somewhere and being able to record any evidence of them. The parakeets screeching in the treetops provided their own testimony.

The grey wagtails that had been nesting by Crossford Bridge had had some success, the female was supervising a rather downy youngster on the rocks by the riverbank as I crossed.

Sale Water Park 

Sale Water Park was busy-quiet. A big herd of mute swans was muscling out the Canada geese over on the landing stage and a couple of lesser black-backs loafed on the open water. There was no sign of the great crested grebes. All the mallards were in their moulting shyness, small clusters hiding on the little islands or on the pools and ditches of Broad Ees Dole. 

The Teal Pool 
Only mallards today.

The view from the hide on Broad Ees Dole was slightly obscured by the foliage outside but not enough to not be able to see what was about. There was just the one heron loafing on the islands, and that pretty much crowded out by the mallards. They were well into their moult, the drakes not having much grey left in their plumage and more brown than green on their heads. A few coots and moorhens pottered about, there was just the one lapwing and a couple of black-headed gulls were having a bath. Sight or sound of dabchicks there was none.

Broad Ees Dole 

I found the broad-leaved helleborines, a few days past their best but still game. It's only ever one or two plants and I often worry that they may be tidied up out of existence at some point.

Broad-leaved helleborine

The walk round Sale Water Park took longer than intended because I got into conversation with a chap by the lake. He's written a book about cryptocurrency so of course we discussed that but we generally ranged over the subject of work-life balance. And dragonflies. He'd been blown away a few days earlier by an encounter with a large dragonfly along a canal towpath and had been frankly amazed to discover he'd spent half an hour watching it. I laughed and welcomed him into the club and warned him that his first encounter with a Southern hawker might freak him out because they're dead nosy and will come right up to eyeball you. We were just saying our farewells when one did precisely that. The next fifteen minutes was spent with our trying to keep track of it and the two brown hawkers also circling us both.

By Barrow Brook 

It was getting on. Blackbirds, chiffchaffs and woodpigeons were doing the bulk of the singing and swifts were flying lazy circles high overhead. I checked the bus times, if I got the tram I had a fighting chance of getting the next bus home from Chorlton. I watched the bus sail past as I tried to cross the road and had an half hour wait for the next. It was only when I sat down at the bus stop I realised I'd been on my feet the past four-and-a-half hours. It was a typical July walk, the bird life hinted at more than seen or heard. And it seemed that I might have seen my first Essex skippers, though I still wasn't convinced.

A couple of juvenile swifts were chasing their parents over the rooftops when I got home. Time marches on.