Home thoughts

It was a surprisingly mild and pleasant day today. I quelled the urge to tempt fate with Sunday public transport and set to trying to catch up with the chopping back and chopping up that needs doing in the back garden if it's not to become impenetrable. There were rude noises off from the house sparrows and great tits but they were mollified by my refilling all the feeders. The robins, dunnock and woodpigeons were busy singing so didn't take much notice of me, neither did the blue tit that came in. 

Rather to my surprise, given how mild it's been lately, a pair of chaffinches came in for a feed.

Whether or not I see the coal tits in the garden is a matter of pure dumb luck, they sneak in and out like ghosts in the night. I'm hoping something similar is the case with the wrens, I've heard or seen nothing of them so far this year.

The collared doves, which had been singing incessantly throughout January, have gone very quiet, which means they have nests on the go. The magpies seem to be renovating the nest in the tree across the road, I must remember to leave some twigs for them to pick up. If only so they leave the cherry tree alone this year.

• Black-headed gull 1
• Blackbird 2
• Blue tit 1
• Carrion crow 2
• Chaffinch 2
• Collared dove 1 
• Dunnock 1
• Goldfinch 1
• Great tit 2
• Greenfinch 1
• House sparrow 14
• Jackdaw 2
• Magpie 3
• Ring-necked parakeet 1
• Robin 2
• Starling 2
• Woodpigeon 3

Lists and taxonomies

The weather's been vile so I'm catching up on my reading. At the beginning of each year there's a flurry of activity on the taxonomic front as revisions to official lists get published. This year the big change to the British List is its being aligned to the recently developed World List called AVList, an internationally pulling together of all the existing official lists in the hopes of ironing out inconsistencies so that everybody's singing from the same song sheet. Which is important as birds don't respect man-made geopolitical or biogeographic boundaries. 

As ever with these changes there are lumps and splits, this time there tends to be more birds getting lumped together into one species because it made sense to take a conservative approach in developing the first edition of the World List. Some of these might get split back up again in future editions after future research. Or not, as the case may be. Which raises the question: why are there any changes in the first place?

One reason is that the species concept is a man-made construct trying to impose set boundaries on dynamic realities. A dog is obviously not a cat and so can easily be consigned to different species. But how different does one population of animals have to be to another for them to become different species? That's trickier. Especially as there are so many different ways of observing difference and there are so many ways that being extremely different isn't necessarily different enough — a Great Dane and a Chihuahua are both dogs after all. And evolution keeps carrying on its merry way so some isolated populations are in the process of becoming new species, and some that were in the process of becoming new species jumbled back together as climates and breeding ranges change while others met but stayed distinct from their close relatives — all of which is why large gull taxonomy and identification in particular is like knitting fog. (It's an order of magnitude messier in the botanical world and they have my sympathy.)

The other key reason is research. Two species might look near enough identical but turn out to be biologically very different, or look very different but turn out to be biologically the same (see: Great Danes and Chihuahuas). The development of DNA sequencing has added a further dimension to this. As a for instance, our Eurasian magpies turn out to be more closely related to the American yellow-billed magpie despite looking nearly identical to the black-billed magpie. It wasn't so long ago that all magpies with black bills were thought of as the same species.

Of course, the birds themselves don't give a monkey's so why does it matter? One reason, beside the basic human instinct to put things in pigeonholes, is the academic study of evolutionary biology, migration, ecology and the like. The other is that, sadly, it's easier to get the resources and support necessary to conserve a population of animals that is a distinct species than it is if they're a lower taxon such as a subspecies.

So what's all this means for everyday life for everyday birdwatchers? Usually not a lot. Most birdwatchers, like me, have informal lists for their own amusement. Its generally the hardcore listers who feel the impact of the changes. For me the British List at the start of the year is the British List for the year. Which isn't the list on my spreadsheet with the nearly fifty worksheets in it. That's terribly inconsistent with me recording some subspecies and distinct varieties and not others. Because it's my list for my records. So rock doves and feral pigeons are recorded separately but are counted as one and the same as far as my British List is concerned. Similarly, light-bellied, dark-bellied, "grey-bellied," and "brent geese of one sort or another," are recorded separately but count as "brent goose" on my British List. Other subspecies don't get listed separately on my spreadsheet but if I see them and can identify them I do record them on BirdTrack and, if required, provide details to County Recorders. Examples would be the recently mentioned Continental ater coal tits, Scandinavian argentatus herring gulls and carbo and sinensis cormorants. That sort of detail may be useful to other people and I'm happy to pass it on but it's not something I've got into the habit of hanging onto for myself. About ten years ago I was tempted to do something about that but the magnitude of the changes I'd have to make in the rearranging of my records, and the scope for my making a right bog of it, persuaded me to leave well alone. That's also the reason why the sequence is based on one adopted back in the seventies.

There is something that the changes to the list do that does make a difference to everyday birdwatching: they flag up distinct taxa that may have been hiding in plain sight. Thirty years ago any large gull with a grey back seen in Britain was a herring gull. A Caspian gull was a yellow-legged gull, which was a herring gull. All the grey-backed gulls might or might not have been what we would now define as herring gulls, I wonder how many of the other taxa went unrecorded because we just didn't know to look if they were different.

There's more about this, as well as the list itself, on the British Birds website.

Platt Fields

Canada geese, mallards and coots

Looking out of the window watching the spadgers make swift inroads on a feeder full of suet pellets it struck me once again that me and the Met Office have different ideas of "Light rain." Time was I'd not have cared and would have gone bouncing out to some rain swept corner, which possibly explains why I now have joints that can tell you it's going to rain tomorrow.

The rain eased a bit at lunchtime so I decided I'd bob over to Platt Fields in Manchester to see what was on the duck pond. By the time I arrived it had stopped raining completely though it was still a thoroughly miserable afternoon.

Blue tits, great tits and robins sang in the trees as I walked in from Wilmslow Road. It sounded like the ring-necked parakeets were already going to roost though they were making enough noise to raise the dead. The magpies were positively sedate by comparison.

Platt Fields duck pond

I keep expecting herons on this island but I've yet to see one here

I expected more mute swans and Canada geese on the pond, there were a handful of geese and a couple of swans. On the other hand there were plenty of coots and mallards and a dozen tufted ducks. I checked just in case it was Manchester's turn to host a ring-necked duck again. It wasn't. I had an hour's putter about without adding anything else to the tally so I headed home.

I knew the 150 bus back to Stretford was due soon so I checked on Google Maps. It was due very soon so I clicked on "directions" to see how likely I was to miss it. Google Maps told me it would take half an hour to walk to the bus stop, which was nonsense. I checked it again while I was waiting to cross the road at the corner opposite the bus stop. Sometimes you have to conclude that Google Maps has been drinking.

Some travel advice can safely go unheeded

Leighton Moss

Pintails, mallards and teal

I would have put good money on my first words of the day not being: "Where's your tail?" As I opened the front door I'd disturbed a magpie that had been rummaging round the plant pots and it bounced down the path and shouted rude things from the tree across the road. It had evidently just had a mauling from something, as well as being tailless it was holding its wings stiffly and the blood on its left wing hadn't dried. It's been the best part of a week since I last saw any of the neighbourhood cats and the other magpies hadn't made the commotion I'd expect from a visit by the sparrowhawk. I wonder if it had pushed its luck with one of the carrion crows. 

The weather was set foul and the wind was cold and fast. It was a day for pottering about inside, or failing that sitting on an almost warm train for long periods. I settled for the latter, got myself an old man's explorer ticket and got the Barrow train.

The bird life seen from the train on the way up was a lot quieter than usual. Woodpigeons and magpies, if seen at all, were huddling out of the wind in lower branches of trees. Their usually favoured trackside furniture perches were deserted. We passed by a few small groups of gulls, mostly black-headed with a few herring gulls North of Preston. 

Mute swans, greylags, teals and mallards cruised the pools at the coastal hides on the approach to Silverdale. There were a host of other ducks out there that I couldn't identify as we chugged past. A great white egret stuck out from the rushes on one of the islands. Another great white egret was stalking flooded fields on the approach to Arnside. 

When we left Lancaster the Lune looked to be at high tide. The Kent at Arnside looked halfway up and the mud banks were still being explored by redshanks and curlews. A redhead goosander steered its way away from the viaduct as the train passed over the main channel.

The salt marshes on the other side were busy with mallards, teals, carrion crows and shelducks. But no little egrets. Having had a quick look at my records I discover that I don't often see them on Morecambe Bay in February. Looking out of the train window I couldn't blame them for going for more sheltered spots inland.

The Leven was running very high and scores of wigeon moved away from the viaduct as the train passed over. I keep hoping to see a few eiders here but I've had no luck yet this year and didn't on the way back, either.

I didn't want to wait fifty-odd minutes for the next train back from Barrow and the weather didn't suggest itself for a walk round Barrow Park or Cavendish Dock so I got off at Dalton and waited five minutes for the train back to Silverdale. I managed to see a couple of little egrets on the way back, singles on sheltered pools at Kents Bank and on Meathop Road outside Grange-over-sands. The Kent still wasn't anywhere near as high as the Lune or Leven, a flock of lapwings loafed on one of the mud banks as we passed.

I got off at Silverdale and walked round to Leighton Moss. The vegetation's been stripped off the station wall and great lumps have been taken out of the stones in the process.

It wasn't the weather for a prolonged visit. I decided I'd be getting the next train back to Manchester. I had The Hideout to myself, the weather was that bad. The greenfinches on the feeders were making most of the noise but the chaffinches were outnumbering them three to one. Great tits muscled in as best could. Blue tits, coal tits and marsh tits dashed in an out whenever there was a lull in the feeding. Today's mopping-up crew were a couple of mallards, a pheasant, a moorhen and a crowd of chaffinches. The robins were mostly busy singing in the bushes.

Leighton Moss 

The view from Lilian's Hide 

The walk round to Lilian's Hide confirmed this was going to be a short visit. All the small birds noises were creaking and groaning branches. The ducks weren't fond either, great masses of them had beached onto the bank in front of the hide and gone to sleep. A raft of coots were drifting about midwater when I arrived. They quickly headed for the bank when a shower of horizontal rain passed by. A raft of pintails stayed out a lot longer, the drakes were busy trying to impress the ladies. They only shifted when a female marsh harrier drifted over, they flew up in a panic and joined the crowd of ducks on the bank. Another female harrier was flying about with a male way over by the causeway, it was impossible to tell whether or not they were paired up or a coincidence. Any ideas the pintails had about drifting back out into the water were knocked on the head when the pair of great black-backs drifted by.

Shovelers
The first-Winter drakes, like the one in the front, were starting to show the green on their heads.

Shovelers 

Coot and teal

Mallards and teal

Pintails 

Marsh harrier
The reason for the pintails' skittishness.

Pintails' 

Chaffinch 

I headed back to the visitor centre, passing a squealing water rail in the reeds by the hide. A small flock of goldfinches were trying to get a go at the feeders but the greenfinches and chaffinches weren't for letting it happen. I had to walk around a marsh tit on the path, it was very intent on something in the gravel.

Marsh tit 

I got the next train back. Fortunately so, it started pouring down before we got to Carnforth. It had been another lazily productive day's birdwatching. 

Worsley Woods

Teal, Old Warke Dam

It was a slightly milder, but still cool, day and the wind was still making itself felt. The spadgers in the back garden somehow managed to demolish a feeder full of fat balls in just over a day (even the magpies didn't get much of a look-in). I've been having a lazy few days so I thought I'd best get a walk under my boots. I went over to the Trafford Centre to play bus station bingo, a toss-up between Pennington Flash and Amberswood, and my bus got me in during that mad gap in the new timetable where there's a half-hour wait and the 126 and 132 arrive together. So I got the 22 to Monton and walked up to Worsley via Duke's Drive and Worsley Woods. Which turned out to work well, what parts of the walk that weren't sheltered by trees were along old railway cuttings.

Carrion crow, Duke's Drive 

I got off at The Bluebell, which sounds a bit Stanley Lupino but there we go, and walked past the already crocus-strewn Monton Green and onto Duke's Drive. Robins and woodpigeons sang in the trees and they were soon joined by blue tits, coal tits and great tits. Carrion crows and magpies rummaged about in the verges, jackdaws and ring-necked parakeets made a racket in the trees in the parkland and the golf course and squirrels scampered about as if there weren't a host of dogs being taken on their lunchtime walkies. A nuthatch kept calling in the avenue of trees but I couldn't place it. I had a bit more luck, eventually, pinpointing the singing song thrush. It was a very pleasant walk.

Duke's Drive

A family of long-tailed tits bounced through the trees as I approached the old Worsley Station and a goldcrest struggled to make itself heard against a background of blue tits, great tits, goldfinches and coal tits. I had no more luck spotting the nuthatch calling by the station than I did the one on Duke's Drive.

For some reason the light at the end of the tunnel

gets smaller the closer you get.

The passage through the little tunnel under Worsley Road marked a change, the robins still sang but there wasn't a lot else about.

I climbed the steps up to the path through the woods to Old Warke Dam. A mixed tit flock including a troupe of long-tailed tits bounced quietly through the trees, I actually saw a nuthatch this time. Unlike the chaffinches, which invariably saw me first.

Climbing up to the woodland path

The Aviary at Old Wark Dam 

I heard the teal on the dam pool well before I got there. There were only half a dozen of them but their whistles penetrated the woodland. I arrived at the lake to find the usual motley crew of mallards, coots and black-headed gulls. Interestingly my walking down to the end of the pier to look over the other side of the pool didn't worry the teal one bit so I got some close photos of them.

Teal

Coot

I carried on walking past Old Warke Dam back into Worsley Woods and dropped down to Worsley Brook. Unsurprisingly the going was very muddy. Woodpigeons, magpies and parakeets clattered about in the trees. There were plenty of blue tits, great tits, robins and blackbirds about but it was the coal tits doing all the singing.

Worsley Brook 

Velvet shanks, I think

I was taking some photographs of fungi on a fallen tree when a grey wagtail came to see what I was doing.

Grey wagtail 

Further along a dozen mallards were chased off the brook by a frisky and already very wet labrador.

Walking up from the brook

I climbed the steps up from the brook and walked into Worsley for the bus back to the Trafford Centre. Canada geese and moorhens puttered about on the canal at Worsley Delph and the jackdaws had started going to bed. Given the weather I was inclined to follow suit but I had a social engagement later on so I had to trust in the revivifying nature of a pot of tea. Which worked, as it always does.

Insert motivational message here

I woke up early, heard the wind rattling the extractor fan in the bathroom, checked the weather forecast and asked myself if standing on a Wintery windswept beach staring into the distance hoping to see black dots is the most comfortable way I could be using my twilight years. I decided to catch up on my sleep.

I've not been up to Rochdale yet this year. I've not got peregrine falcon or dipper on the year list yet. I decided to head up that way, see if there's been a reappearance of the Town Hall falcons and check out the river for dippers.

On the train I decided to stay on to Littleborough. It wasn't the weather for a visit to Hollingworth Lake but I could get the 458 from the station, get off at Wardle for a quick look at Watergrove Reservoir then catch the 458 into Rochdale. Which is a sound plan, I've done it often before. I didn't do it today. Waiting for the bus I checked the weather forecast, the wind speed numbers offered by the Met Office did not accord with the rattling of the bus shelter. It was so gloomy 91 jackdaws went to roost in the trees by the church. I decided to stay on the bus to Rochdale.

Dozens of jackdaws flew in and gathered in the trees in Hurstead, Wardle and Smallbridge. Black-headed gulls teemed about Rochdale town centre. The weather was set not altogether pleasant. 

River Roch, Rochdale

I checked the river by the bus station, a moorhen had it all to itself. Even the usual gaggle of geese was nowhere to be seen. Walking over to the Town Hall I stopped and checked the river as I went along. A pigeon landed and had a drink before joining the crowds on the treetops.

There was no sign of peregrines on the Town Hall. Not even any droppings on the stonework of the clock tower.

I played bus station bingo and got the 409 to Ashton-under-Lyne. If the weather picked up I could get off at Tandle Hill or I could see if the herons were back on the heronry at Alexandra Park in Oldham. I got the 216 at Ashton Bus Station and went back to Manchester and thence home.

Southport

Pied wagtail

It was an early start. The blackbirds and robins sang a lusty dawn chorus. By the time the early morning errands had been done they'd been succeeded by blue tits, coal tits, house sparrows and woodpigeons. It was a mild grey morning so I got the Liverpool train and an all-areas Saveaway, the plan being to go up to Southport to try and put twite on the year list while I was still awake then drift back calling at wherever and seeing what was what.

Suburban railway stations are an underappreciated birdwatching resource. Waiting for the Ormskirk train at Liverpool South Parkway a mixed tit flock — silent blue tits and long-tailed tits and noisy great tits — bounced through the trees and a carrion crow love triangle played out in the treetops. My year list at my local station currently stands at 24 species.

The highlight of the journey North was the quartet of roe deer grazing in a field just South of Hightown.

Southport Marine Lake 

Arriving in Southport I went straight to the marine lake and had a walk round to see what was about. 

Greylags 

Herring gulls and mute swans

The wind picked up and had an edge to it but it was otherwise pleasant walking. The inland sides of the islands were lined with greylags, Canada geese and coots. The mute swans out on the water were tending to cruise about in pairs but an impressive caravan of them kept passing up and down beneath the Marine Way Bridge. Most of the mallards were loafing on the side by the Promenade, together with a few pairs of gadwalls and yet more coots. The herring gulls outnumbered the black-headed gulls about two to one and I couldn't find any lesser black-backs. I looked in vain for either the smew or the snow goose. The only diving ducks were a pair of tufted ducks bobbing about near the paddle steamer and two female goldeneyes out in the middle of the lake. Dabchicks bobbed up and down in the water with gay abandon. The only white goose was a white farm goose with the mob of swans, greylags, coots and herring gulls on the corner jetty.

Herring gulls 

Gadwall

Tufted ducks 

Jackdaws, magpies and carrion crows idled in the trees on the island. Until they noticed that a sparrowhawk had landed in a tree for a rest. It was quickly seen off the premises.

Blackbirds, song thrushes, greenfinches and chaffinches were busy in the sea buckthorns on the seaward side of the lake. The tide was best part low so I didn't expect much chance of twites in the sailing club compound but it was worth a go. I wasn't surprised to only find a meadow pipits and some oystercatchers. A skein of pink-footed geese flew over and into the salt marsh beyond.

I crossed the road for a look at the salt marsh. Wherever any pink-feet were they were either well in the distance or mid-distance with their heads down, grazing. There were plenty of shelducks about and a drake pintail flew in and landed where the salt marsh meets the beach a couple of hundred yards out from the road. Closer by, skylarks and meadow pipits flitted about the marsh while pied wagtails rummaged about at the base of the sea wall.

I was watching a pair of meadow pipits chasing each other round the marsh when I noticed a flock of finches rise out of the marsh and fly about a bit before settling back down and becoming immediately invisible. I'd seen where they'd gone so it was a simple matter of waiting for them to rise again to move on a bit. I was lucky, I only had to wait a couple of minutes and they were back up. This time I could be sure they were a couple of dozen twites as much by what I wasn't seeing as their snub faces.

The salt marsh North of the pier

Redshanks and black-headed gulls pottered about on the mud around the pier, oystercatchers loafed on the margins of the marsh to the South. It seems strange not to have a snow bunting hereabouts this Winter, I had a look for one anyway, just in case. The only little egret of the day (I seem to be writing that a lot lately) flew in and rummaged about on the marsh with a dozen starlings.

Southport Beach 

I walked down to the Transpennine Trail Gateway and asked myself what I wanted to do next. The day and the wind had caught up with me so I walked down to Lord Street and got the X2 to Liverpool. As the bus waited at the lights to join the Formby Bypass I glanced up at a bird drifting high up in the breeze. As it slowly drifted closer I realised it was a red kite. I should have realised before it got that much closer, nearly anything other than a kite would stall and drop out of the sky flying at that speed. I wonder if it's the same one I saw near Bank Hall last month, or the one that keeps turning up unexpectedly over Marshside.

There was the possibility that after a bit of a breather I could get off and walk over to Lunt Meadows or a visit to Crosby Marine Park. It remained a possibility, I just didn't have the energy. I did somehow rack up 55 species for the day, though.