A bit more than the expected wander

Lesser black-back, Crosby Marine Lake

After the fourth bad night's sleep and with eyes like peepholes in the snow I decided to go on a twitch. The white-rumped sandpiper was still at Meols, it would be a lifer if I could get it and being tired was no justification for not giving it a go. On paper the odds against my seeing my seeing one small bird on a vast stretch of beach were not good but experience shows that something "different" can jump out to the eye even when that difference is subtle. In this case I was looking for something like a small dunlin with long wings and doing it with bleary eyes and binoculars but I would have hated myself for not giving it a go.

Rock pipit 

It was a sunny day with a very brisk, cool wind. I got the train to Manor Road and walked down to the lifeboat station. The difference just over a week makes! The house martins and swifts had disappeared but there were rock pipits and pied wagtails bouncing between the promenade and salt marsh. Looking over towards Meols there were more shelducks than last time and dark bands of small waders feeding on the mud.

Dunlins, mostly, and black-headed gulls 

At this range I could only guess that the waders — or most of them — were dunlins. The good news was that the flock was at an angle to the seawall and got closer the further I walked down the promenade, a dark shadow became dots then birds. The other good news was the knot of birdwatchers just past the end of the tennis courts, which narrowed the search more than a bit.

The great thing about dunlins is that adult birds in breeding plumage have black bellies. On pale muddy sand that black sticks out a mile and I was quickly confirming that a lot of the small waders were dunlins. Unless something very peculiar was going on most, if not all, the plainer birds in the flock were probably also dunlins, young birds and adults moulting into non-breeding plumage. A couple of ringed plovers flew past, just to remind me not to get too cocky. As I walked along I started finding a few sanderlings in the crowd, larger and paler than the dunlins but still mostly in their breeding duds. For some reason they don't properly get into clockwork mouse mode until they get their Winter whites. 

A couple of curlews strolled across and mingled with the crowds. What had initially looked like a big flock of dunlins was four or five small flocks stretching out like braided ribbons on the mud between wet soft. The birds were very active, running round mostly in small groups or flying off a few yards to find a fresh patch. I was told roughly where to look — it had to be roughly as the birds were very active. I needn't have worried about only having the binoculars, they were adequate for the purpose and I could easily scan the flock in question.

One bird kept catching my eye, it took a few minutes to realise why: it seemed like the colours were toned down a lot, not so much greyer as under saturated. I wasn't sure that it was smaller than the dunlins around it but was somehow more delicate-looking. And longer wings. And pale grey on the breast and flanks.  I had me the white-rumped sandpiper. And no sooner had it than lost it as that group rose and flew twenty yards further out, a flash of white confirming the identity. If I'm perfectly honest, had I seen that on my own without being prepared for it beforehand I'd have been baffled. If I ever do again I think I'd be able to at least recognise it as a possibility.

I couldn't find it on the ground again but picked it out by its white rump as a hundred or so of the waders took flight and moved further out again. I thought I saw another white rump in the corner of my eye, on a bigger bird, perhaps a curlew sandpiper or the pale grey rump of a sanderling catching the light.

Hoylake Lifeboat Station 

I knew I hadn't the legs for the walk over to Moreton. I walked back and got a much-needed cup of tea. And lunch, which was unusual, I rarely bother when I'm out, I'll just nibble on supplies of oat biscuits and mints. Perhaps I had a premonition that it would be a long time til teatime.

I got the train back to Liverpool and headed for Waterloo, I'd got a Saveaway ticket for the day. I'd have a gentle toddle round Crosby Marine Park and then either move on to another site or, more probably, jack it in and go home. And so I did. The highlight of the journey being a dark green fritillary feeding on the hemp agrimony at Bidston Station.

Crosby Marine Lake 

A couple of dozen little egrets lined the far bank of Crosby Marine Lake. There were dozens of gulls about the marine park, equal numbers of black-headed gulls and herring gulls with a handful of lesser black-backs and a passing great black-back. Most of the herring gulls congregated at the deep end of the old boating pond as usual, the black-headed gulls were scattered all about. A first-Summer glaucous gull had been here yesterday, I kept an eye out just in case I was going to be lucky twice in one day. There were quite a few very sun-bleached young herring gulls but even the palest didn't have the low contrast sandy beige tones of a young glaucous gull and the tips of the primary wing feathers were always darker than the rest of the wing, never paler than a dark chocolate shade.

The old boating pond

Mute swans and coots mugged for scraps, the mallards dozed under the bank, when they weren't squabbling over the best seats. House martins zipped about at head height, occasionally dipping lower to get a drink or a bath, and a small flock of starlings fussed about in the grass on the other side of the pool. A screeching commotion was two juvenile common terns chasing after an adult with sand eels in its beak. Another screeching commotion was three black-headed gulls trying to steal food off a young herring gull only for an adult herring gull to come in and snatch it.

I startled a passing small dog by exclaiming: "Good grief! A clouded yellow!" at a passing butterfly. And so it was. It's been a good year for clouded yellows and quails and I've had no luck with either. And there it was, my first ever clouded yellow fluttering low over the grass. I was struck forcibly by the colour, in my head I was expecting buttery yellows, in reality it was the colour of ragwort flowers gone over: dark yellows and burnt orange. And very fidgety, when it wasn't being buffeted about by the wind. I got a couple of photos of grass then lost it as it blew away.

Crosby Beach 

Carrion crows fossicked about on the beach, herring gulls loafed on the tideline. A couple of common terns headed North. A couple of cormorants headed South.

Goldfinches twittered in the sea buckthorns by the perimeter fence to Seaforth Nature Reserve. Lapwings and black-headed gulls were arrayed on this end of the pool like a child had set out a box of toy soldiers. They were almost as animated. Herring gulls, cormorants, Canada geese and lesser black-backs loafed on the poolside. More herring gulls loafed on the grass by the fence further along. Their inactivity was more than made up for by the common terns noisily swirling round the nesting rafts at the end of the pool by the hides. Over that end there were lots of unidentifiable waders mixed in with the crowds of gulls and geese.

I walked along, different bits of the pool coming in and out of view behind the grassy banks in the foreground. More lapwings and black-headed gulls. A curlew. Three juvenile shelducks flew across towards the Coastguard tower. About halfway along the pool there's a small spit or point and this was carpeted with Canada geese and herring gulls. Young herring gulls stuck out like mounds of dry earth. There was one extremely pale sandy mound behind one of the Canada geese. A couple of very bleached herring gulls probably. A couple of steps further on it became apparent it was one gull, roughly the same size as the goose. A big herring gull or a small goose? I had another, proper, look. A low contrast beige gull without dark wing tips. A first-Summer glaucous gull. I hoped it would get its beak out of its back feathers but it wasn't for waking up just so some old bloke could confirm its identity. A big, mostly pale bill would have given me no chance of second-guessing myself. Not that I would have had any excuse for it anyway, no number of washes would fade a herring gull to that shade.

Large white

I walked round to the little nature reserve. The small blues and gatekeepers weren't for having their photos taken but a large white obliged. A chiffchaff squeaked in the trees and a wren scolded even before I passed by.

Crosby Marine Lake 

The train journey from Waterloo was uneventful. Lime Street wasn't. Nothing except the London train going through Crewe had left the overground station for the past hour or was likely to leave the station for the next few hours. A power failure had taken out signals throughout Greater Manchester. I weighed up the options: I could get the bus from Liverpool to Widnes, thence another to Warrington then the 100 to the Trafford Centre. Or the Northern Line to Liverpool South Parkway and pick up the same journey. Or… I was in luck (again!): the train from Headbolt Lane was running but only as far as Wigan. And as luck would have it, I managed to catch the train from Liverpool Central that connected with that train to Wigan. And I had a five-minute wait for the 132 to the Trafford Centre. Kudos to the train crew who did a good job of reassuring us all about our tickets being accepted for this run and the buses at the other end and the guard went through the train telling people which buses they needed to catch at Wigan. In the end I was only two hours late home, which wasn't bad in the circumstances.

Leighton Moss

Marsh harrier

The weather front presaged by that swarm of sand martins in Flixton came to pass. It heaved down Monday night and there were intermittent heavy showers throughout Tuesday. In between the showers it was like being in the steam room at a Turkish bath and I quickly gave up on my effort at having a walk. It was cooler today, low sixties with a strong wind knocking it down a lot, and fresher. I decided it would be a good day to be dodging showers on the train and nipping between the hides at Leighton Moss. The day had started very early and I wasn't up to anything energetic.

I got myself an old man's explorer ticket and headed North. There was not a lot of anything in the fields of Lancashire as the train passed by. The pools by the coastal hides at Leighton Moss were bone dry and cracked, a few black-headed gulls and little egrets seemed to be loafing there by habit. The tides were highish so the Kent and Leven were running high as the train passed over the estuaries. A couple of curlews and some lesser black-backs prodded about on muddy river banks, little egrets lurked in creeks, the dry salt marshes in between were left to carrion crows and swallows.

There had been a couple of very heavy showers along the way. I got off at Dalton and was treated to another in the ten minutes I had to wait for the train back. Even the herring gulls and jackdaws were grounded.

Coots

It was raining steadily when I arrived at Leighton Moss. I can't complain, it's badly needed. The pool at Lilian's Hide was crowded with gadwalls, mallards and coots clustered in the deep bits where the water went halfway up the shins of one of the three great white egrets, most elsewhere it barely wet the ankles. (Yes, I know a bird's "knee" is actually the ankle, the alternative non-technical label is: "bit the toes stick out of," which is more typing.) Four adult mute swans loafed on a mud bank that is usually a thin line of short reeds, I could see no sign of any cygnets. And all the while a swarm of sand martins and a couple of swifts whizzed low over the pool.

Gadwalls

A moorhen chick demonstrated why they're part of the staple diet of gulls and marsh harriers. In the end its parent gave up trying to call it back into the reeds and came out into the open with its sibling so it could keep an eye on it.

Moorhens

Great white egret, gadwalls and mallards

Luckily for the moorhens the marsh harrier that came over to the pool stayed on the other side, putting the wind up the gadwalls which all flew into the deepest channel they could find on the pool, which was dead centre and not very deep.

Marsh harrier

Me and the camera have a fight nearly every day but every so often we do something like the photos I got of that marsh harrier.

Marsh harrier 

Marsh harrier 

From the Sky Tower the reserve was a sea of reeds with pockets of mud and puddles. The rain tried its best.

From the Sky Tower 

The walk down to the Tim Jackson and Griesdale hides were mainly quiet. The squeaks of robins, chiffchaffs and willow warblers. A quietly singing reed warbler. A telling-off by a wren.

Walking down to the reedbeds

The main drain on the reserve

At the Griesdale Hide 

At the Tim Jackson Hide 

A white-rumped sandpiper had turned up at Meols. I toyed with the idea of chasing after it on the way home but the two o'clock early alarm call asserted itself. I went home, did not pass go, did not collect £200.

Flixton

Common tern. Irlam Locks 

It was a hot, muggy sort of a day with enough breeze to stop it getting unduly unpleasant. I spent the whole morning wondering what I was going to do with it and was set for spending the afternoon the same way so I got my boots on and played bus stop bingo. The 256 arrived first so I walked down from the terminus at Town Gate for a look at Irlam Locks then wandered back for a walk round Wellacre Country Park.

As I waited for the bus a common darter zipped across the road. A Southern hawker passed the bus by Woodsend Circle. I took these as good omens but they were the only dragonflies I saw all day.

Dunnock

A swarm of sand martins and a handful of swallows were busy low over the fields by Irlam Road. House sparrows muttered in the hedgerows and both woodpigeons and collared doves sang from chimney pots. A dunnock bobbed up out of the brambles to have a better look at me, decided I was nothing to look at and bobbed back down again. Large whites, small whites, red admirals and painted ladies fluttered about the wayside.

Great crested grebes

A handful of mallards quietly loafed by the banks of the Ship Canal. Out on the water a pair of great crested grebes had a well-grown humbug that was fully capable of diving but not very good yet at catching anything that its mother hadn't caught first.

Mallard 

Great crested grebes 

Black-headed gulls 

There were at least fifty black-headed gulls loafing on the locks and more fussing about the water treatment works with the magpies and a grey wagtail. A couple of lesser black-backs and a herring gull accompanied the black-headed gulls and cormorants on the side of the main bay, a heron was with the crowd on the lockside. A few of the sand martins zipped down to the water for a drink or a quick wash. It's not easy to tell when they're moving so fast and have wet faces but there were a few juvenile birds in the swarms.

Black-headed gulls and heron

A sudden splash made me turn round. A common tern was plunge-diving into the canal just behind me. The finger-sized silver fish it was catching looked like dace but I'm open to being corrected.

Common tern

Looking downstream from the locks I could only see a couple of mallards by the banks, and two young cormorants and a juvenile heron on the end of the lock.

Irlam Locks 

I walked back into the housing estate and round onto Jack Lane. The hedgerows along Jack Lane were quiet, the sand martins and swallows zipping over them at head height weren't. The martins chipped and the swallows twittered and every so often a martin would notice there were people on the lane and would let forth with a lot of excited chatter. In amongst the excitement I almost missed the couple of swifts circling overhead.

Jack Lane 

I got into conversation with a lady walking her dog. She told me that the tawny owls on their farm have at least one owlet out of the nest, which is good to hear. So long as you're not a mouse.

Jack Lane Nature Reserve was very dry and very quiet. Goldfinches twittered and a juvenile robin had a few goes at singing a couple of phrases and a juvenile moorhen retreated from the bare mud  into the reeds.

Jack Lane Nature Reserve 

Dutton's Pond was wetter but visibly lower than usual. The young coots and moorhens were full-grown but still showing their juvenile colours.

There were a lot of holly blues in the bushes by Dutton's Pond and by the lane passing by Green Hill to Carrington Road. Blue tits, great tits and dunnocks fidgeted in the depths of the undergrowth while magpies and woodpigeons barged about in the trees.

Were it not for a house sparrow tweeting at the roadside and a woodpigeon singing in a tree I'd have seen no birds by the river at Flixton Bridge. The river's low but not so low as to preclude any waterbirds, it just wasn't my turn to see any.

Flixton Bridge 

I walked down to Flixton Station for the train home. A song thrush sang in the arrival of the train.

Mosses

Common darter, New Moss Wood 

It was a bright, warm morning with a stiff breeze and I was tempted to go on a twitch. Very tempted, indeed. It would have been a lifer, and worth my going on a Saturday twitch for but it became apparent from the reports that the bird in question was a bit of a fidget. A Saturday twitch scampering about like Mike Reid's Runaround? I didn't fancy it. We'll see what Monday brings.

I had a lazy old time of it then got the mid-afternoon train to Irlam. I thought I'd have an hour's walk round New Moss Wood then see where I felt like going thereafter. Three swifts wheeled around the station as the train arrived, which was good to see, I'm worried about the state of our local swift population and can't do anything practical by way of helping them. The nestling lesser black-back on the factory roof on the way into Irlam is nearly as big as its parents now and has stopped looking fluffy.

Collared doves and woodpigeons sang as I walked through the allotments to Moss Road. A couple of magpies rattled in the trees and a lesser black-back drifted lazily North overhead. Large whites, red admirals and speckled woods fluttered about the brambles in the hedgerows. I crossed over and walked a little way down the lane by the railway line, adding a greenfinch to the songscape. A wren tutted, goldfinches twittered, red admirals and holly blues fluttered about the brambles in the hedgerows.

New Moss Wood 

I walked into New Moss Wood, a brown hawker patrolling the glade at the entrance. It was nice to walk on green grass and have the ground give a little as I walked. And it was very quiet save the occasional squeak from a chiffchaff. A Southern hawker passed by as it patrolled the rides. Large whites fluttered about but for all they there nettles there were no red admirals. The ground was soft enough for new molehills to have erupted along the wayside.

New Moss Wood 

Buff-tailed bumblebee 

I'm ambivalent about Himalayan balsam. I can see how they were attractive garden plants originally, they're bright and colourful and scented. But they are horribly invasive. I do my bit tugging up stems to thin them out as I walk along. Except when they're in full flower. The bees love them and there's precious little else providing them with a livelihood at the moment. Even the knapweeds and goldenrods are past their best. So I leave the ones in full flower alone, only tugging up stems where the flowers have gone over before they can set seed.

Honey bee

As I met one of the crossroads I realised I'd become a creature of habit so I turned into one of the wilder rides. Common darters zipped around as I walked. At the next crossroads I heard a long-tailed tit and stopped. I worked out which bush it was in and watched as a mixed tit flock flew across the ride into the bush and thence into the willows beyond. A family of long-tailed tits, a few great tits and blue tits, a coal tit and a chiffchaff. All silent except that one first long-tailed tit.

Common darter

This ride seemed to coincide with the divide between the drier part of the wood dominated by birches, oaks and sallows and the damper part dominated by willows, alders and birches. Wrens warned me off going too close to any dragonfly pools. A flock of swallows twittered high overhead. A willow warbler squeaked in the crack willows to my left. There was a different answering squeak in the sallows to my right. A chiffchaff popped out to check me out before quietly disappearing into the canopy. The willow warbler continued squeaking so I took the hint and moved on.

I decided I hadn't the legs for walking up to Little Woolden Moss then back one way or another to Irlam but I didn't want to walk back whence I came. So I walked up a little and took the footpath over to Astley Road. I'd forgotten that the steps on the stile by the road were missing so it was effectively a three barred fence. Luckily, aside from a singing collared dove there were no witnesses to the ungainly old main making a bog of clambering over it. Unfortunately I jarred the bad knee in the process. Nothing that couldn't be put right later but it detracted from the walk. The long grass and nettles along the path were busy with grass moths and small flies. Some larger moths were very keen to get back into cover when disturbed by my passing by. A painted lady looked straight off the production line. 

Painted lady

Some moths refuse to be identified, this one had a look of a box moth

Walking over to Astley Road 
The rosebay mark the land drain.

Squadrons of woodpigeons passed overhead like a military parade. Lesser black-backs headed North, presumably to Pennington Flash. Swallows skimmed over the grass in the fields. A pair of cyclists passed by, I knew they were coming by the bad language as they negotiated the stiles behind me. About fifty yards ahead of me they flushed a meadow pipits that had been feeding on the ground. As I negotiated the wobbly step onto the steel bridge over a land drain a whitethroat razzed me loudly from the willowherbs on its banks.

Astley Road 

I got to Astley Road and scanned the fields. There weren't even many woodpigeons about. I still took the time to inspect every big clod of earth just in case it might turn into a partridge. Hope springs eternal. A dunnock hopped onto a dead branch in the hawthorn by my side and gave me as close to a good telling off as a dunnock ever gets.

It was quiet walking down Astley Road into Irlam. A blue tit and a goldfinch called in the trees. One of the Zinnia Close house sparrows passed the time of day. A collared dove and a woodpigeon sang. I got the 100 to the Trafford Centre and thence home and my knee forgave me. It had been a very pleasant walk albeit a quiet one. And I would have been an hour too late arriving for that twitch.

Salford Quays

Lesser black-backs
(I rather like the air of menace in this photo)

It was another nice day and I wasn't disposed to do anything with it. I've found the birdwatching this past couple of weeks a bit dispiriting. They've been lovely walks and I've had my fresh air and exercise and all that but the shortage of birds has been inescapable. Much, much more than the usual July lull. The local swifts had their farewell party a couple of weeks ago, screaming round the chimney tops in the twilight. A couple linger on near the station, I hope this means they have a nest with mouths to feed on the go. Blackcaps and whitethroats, similarly, seem to have shut up shop early. It feels somehow like something is broken.

Lostock Park 

Fresh air and exercise is good for the spirit so after this morning's fifteen minute downpour I headed over to the park to see what was about on my local patch.

Three magpies, two woodpigeons, a great tit and a black-headed gull passing through.

Ordinarily this time of year I'd be hearing enigmatic squeaks and scufflings in the undergrowth and be scratching my head trying to identify them. Today, nothing. More life in a tramp's vest. But then, everything's so parched, even after fifteen minutes of rain, it must have an impact on the food and water supplies.

Barton Clough 

Thoroughly demoralised I walked through and got the 250, got off near Sir Matt Busby Way and walked through to Wharfside to see what was on the Ship Canal. By golly, I shall see a body of water today, I told myself. And so I did

Manchester Ship Canal

Black-headed gulls and juvenile lesser black-back
The adult black-headed gulls were in that odd grey-headed stage of moult.

For most of the gulls the breeding season is over though I'm still seeing a few large lesser black-back chicks on factory rooves. A raft of lesser black-backs and a few herring gulls bathed by the Lowry. Mute swans, coots and Canada geese drifted about the Central Bay. Sand martins were much in evidence, a dozen were feeding by this bank and more zipped across my line of vision as I scanned the gulls. There were maybe fifty black-headed gulls about and they seemed a bit skittish, tending not to settle on the water and fidgeting about whenever they were on the dockside furniture. Half a dozen very young-looking lesser black-backs begged by Clipper Quay and were extravagantly ignored by the adults at the scene.

Walking to Pomona

I walked over to Pomona, adding a couple of cormorants and a mallard to the tally. Walking back, a grey wagtail was heard and not seen, I suspect it was on the walkway on the Salford bank.

Walking back past Clipper Quay I noticed that three mallards and a moorhen had joined the crowd and the adult lesser black-backs had moved on. One of the young lesser black-backs took to the sky and spent the next three minutes being chased round the block by an adult until it got bored and flew over to the Lowry for a bath.

Even the Ship Canal's low

There was a steady traffic of large gulls of all ages, three lesser black-backs for every herring gull, drifting in and out of that raft by the Lowry. I kept my eyes peeled, the "usual" yellow-legged gull had been reported again earlier this week and I might strike lucky today. I wasn't seeing anything likely on the water. One subadult gull flying over the canal caught my eye but I had shockingly bad views of it because most of the time the sun was right behind it. It might have been a subadult yellow-legged gull but with the views I was getting it might just as easily have been a rather full-breasted lesser black-back with a chunky beak. 

Central Bay 

As I approached the Imperial War Museum another batch of gulls flew in from the Ontario Basin. I was in luck: one of them was an adult — the usual adult? — yellow-legged gull. It's an odd thing about yellow-legged gulls: compared to herring gulls, and even lesser black-backs, they always look freshly laundered. Perhaps it's just that that shade of grey seems to emphasise the whiteness of the head. The raft was dispersed when the tourist boat came in to dock, the extensive black tips to the primaries on the yellow-legged gull had the rather squared-off look, as if the tip of the wing had been dipped in a pot of paint. I notice that every time.

So I got my hundred species for the month after all. In snooker they apologise for a fluke. I'm a bit irritated with myself at the sense of relief I got that I made it.

I got the 30 to the Trafford Centre and the 25 back home. More lesser black-backs flew in to roost a the quays and a red admiral chased the bus out of its territory as we approached the bus station. The butterflies are in football hooligan on holiday mode this Summer, I think the heat's getting to them.