Mosses

Stonechat, Chat Moss

It was another warm but overcast day and after feeling dog-rough last evening I had a lazy morning and had an afternoon potter about on the Salford mosses.

I got the train into Irlam and walked up Astley Road. Pigeons, woodpigeons, lesser black-backs and black-headed gulls passed overhead. A young robin squeaked from a hedge. Goldfinches twittered in treetops. Where were the house sparrows? No idea.

Black-headed gulls 

The sun was poking through the cloud cover as I left town and carried on walking up the road. Squadrons of woodpigeons passed overhead in all directions. Greenfinches and goldfinches sang in the trees. Blackbirds, great tits, chiffchaffs and robins rummaged quietly in the depths of cover, the blackbirds occasionally breaking cover to cross the road or the fields of turf. Wrens popped up out of nowhere, tutted and vanished like pantomime demons. Way, way over, probably over Barton Moss, a buzzard was putting the scares on a flock of woodpigeons. And the hedgerows were bustling with gatekeepers, large whites, red admirals and peacocks.

Irlam Moss 

Passing the Jack Russell's gate a great spotted woodpecker took exception to me from somewhere in the canopy of the roadside trees. Speckled woods and small whites fluttered about, the speckled woods chasing off any passing large whites. (I have speckled woods in my back garden. A whip and chair is a sensible precaution.) Swallows and swifts circled overhead and one of the lesser black-backs flying North, perhaps heading for Pennington Flash, turned out to be a subadult great black-back. 

Mugwort

I scanned the fallow field by Prospect Grange, all that thistledown and scarce a goldfinch to be seen. As I stepped back onto the verge to let a car go by a brown hawker zipped over my shoulder and followed in the car's wake.

Chat Moss 

The turf fields North of the motorway were green deserts, save the occasional swallow hawking low over the ground. A few fields distant a field had been turned over and was carpeted with over a hundred black-headed gulls and dozens of lesser black-backs and herring gulls. A bit further along a couple of strips of turf had been removed from a field and a dozen carrion crows were raking over the spoils. I looked in vain for any flavour of wagtail and was mightily relieved that house martins were still hawking over the farmsteads.

By Lavender Lane 

The walk down Lavender Lane felt quiet despite there being lots of woodpigeons and magpies about. The pair of kestrels were hunting over the fields either side of the lane but didn't look to be having much luck. I muttered to myself that I hadn't seen or heard any whitethroats and almost immediately a family of them popped up out of a bramble patch, hurled some filthy abuse my way and, having done what they had set out to do, retreated into cover. It was a warm, muggy day, I had every expectation of seeing a few dragonflies and saw not a one.

Juvenile stonechat

The first stonechat I spotted was a juvenile bird fussing about in a stand of mugwort in a thistle patch. The male stonechat spotted that I had noticed and made a point of looking very conspicuous as it hissed at me.

Stonechat

Willow warblers squeaked and one sang in the trees by the entrance to Little Woolden Moss. A stand of hemp agrimony in a corner was heaving with butterflies: peacocks, meadow browns, gatekeepers, large whites, speckled woods and — outnumbering the rest put together — red admirals.

Red admiral on hemp agrimony 

Walking in through the trees a wren sang as I passed by while blue tits and willow warblers ignored me and carried on with their business. A lot of gatekeepers fussed about the grasses and heather by the path as I emerged into the open. I hadn't gone far when a brown butterfly that wasn't a gatekeeper or a meadow brown fluttered past. Even though I knew what it was I needed to convince myself, I'm lucky if I get to see a large heath here once a year. "Large heath" suggests a big butterfly but these things are relative, they're about the same size or perhaps slightly smaller than a gatekeeper but are big compared to small heaths. Whereas the gatekeepers and meadow browns will occasionally stay still for a photo the large heath was an utter fidget, not stopping anywhere longer than a second or two.

Gatekeeper

Lapwings

I worried that the pools on the reserve may have dried out completely. They hadn't but they were very much reduced and for the most part only ankle-deep to a pied wagtail. As one demonstrated. A family of oystercatchers made a lot of noise, a couple of curlews slept and about a dozen lapwings loafed about, taking occasional snaps at passing insects. The pied wagtails were much more active, dashing about and catching insects in mid-air. A mystery bird was asleep on a log. Round and brown and lapwing-sized with dark legs. I was baffled until the oystercatchers woke it up and it fell off the log. A very young black-headed gull still not quite ready to be a master of the sky.

Curlews

A couple of black-tailed skimmers zipped about over the water, Southern hawkers patrolled the willow scrub. And for once there was not a single darter of any type to be found, very unusual in high Summer. I couldn't blame today's weather, the sun had come out and it was warm and muggy.

Stonechat

Stonechat

Walking back down Lavender Lane painted ladies, common blues and a large skipper joined the butterfly ball. The female stonechat joined the male in watching me on my way. It took me a while to find the young kestrel noisily begging for food, it had perched close to the top of a telegraph pole, a couple of poles away from where the female was keeping an eye on it.

Kestrel

Twelve Yards Road 

I headed down a rather quiet Twelve Yards Lane. A few swifts circled overhead, more squadrons of woodpigeons passed by, a dozen stock doves almost sneaked past my notice. The little pond that had formed in the corner of the fallow field was bone dry and deserted. Painted ladies and red admirals basked on the road. All the red admirals were pristine and new, the painted ladies split fifty-fifty between faded individuals almost grey and transparent and bright salmon-pink ones fresh from the production line.

There were a lot of these ghostly painted ladies about

After debating whether or not to take a detour up to the fringes of Croxden's Moss in the hopes of finding more dragonflies I decided against. I didn't have the legs for it.

Twelve Yards Road 

The lighting effects became impossible to ignore. Fields full of straw glowed against a backdrop of thunderous navy blue clouds. Yet the thunder never came, not a drop of rain. For which I was profoundly grateful but we do desperately need the rain.

There was a lot of activity in one rowan tree, more than there had been in all the hedgerows along this road so far. A family of whitethroats chased each other about, goldfinches twittered, a greenfinch sang, a chiffchaff squeaked and a blackcap hopped onto a perch to glare at me before flying into the neighbouring hawthorn. It turned out to be more activity than all the hedgerows for the rest of the walk down Twelve Yards Road and Cutnook Lane into Irlam for the bus back to the Trafford Centre.

Cutnook Lane 

I'm going to have to come back soon and look for darters on Chat Moss. There's something seriously wrong with the scheme of things in their absence.

Clifton Country Park

Nithatch

It was a lot cooler today — low to mid seventies in old money — and overcast. The mystery of the morning was why the collared dove should suddenly start singing at twenty to three in the morning and then suddenly stop. In my befuddled half-asleep state for a moment I wondered if a tawny owl was in the garden.

The lake at Clifton Country Park 

For some reason I felt achy and tired and headachy and I let the need to run an errand be the excuse not to go on the planned excursion for the day. Instead I played bus station bingo, got the 22 into Clifton and went for a walk round the country park.

Mute cygnet

The mute swans had well-grown cygnets in tow. I worried that one had a length of fishing line in its beak but it turned out to be a long length of fibre from a Himalayan balsam stem it had been chewing. The black-headed gulls had plenty of young birds with them, the adults were in that strange grey-headed phase where the white Winter plumage isn't quite replacing all the brown feathers on the head. The youngsters were in various stages of looking very tea-stained. The coots had small chicks, the mallard ducklings were full-grown and capable, just, of flight, and all the tufted ducks were adults.

Black-headed gull

River Irwell 

I walked round to the bridge over the Irwell into Bolton. The beach on the bend here always looks like there should be waders on it and there never is. Up North there'd be a common sandpiper sure as eggs. A few Canada geese cruised upstream, black-headed gulls and magpies caught midges by the outflow from the water treatment works and grey wagtails bobbed about on rocks by the bankside.

The path by the river

I turned back and took the path that follows the river downstream. It's a higgledy piggledy sort of a path, up and down like a rollercoaster, lurching round trees and here and there showing signs of disappearing into either the river or the hollow ground on the other side. It's rather fun when it's not muddy.

Mallards

The views of the river are mostly obscured by trees, which is frustrating when you can hear a kingfisher. Every so often there's a good view of the river, I found that if there weren't grey wagtails about there were mallards. I caught up with the kingfisher a few hundred yards downstream when it flew down a small course of rapids.

Grey wagtails

The birds in the woods by the path were mostly silent and skulking. Except the young robins that were showing off a bit. A pair of nuthatches were so busy being silent and skulking they didn't notice me standing by the tree they were feeding in. 

Juvenile robin 

The river was a lot lower than usual and was exposing large expanses of the sandstone strata it runs over and through. Brown hawkers patrolled over the shallows and rapids. My first common blue damselfly of the day was in the beak of a young grey wagtail. I was looking out for dippers and having no luck. I was also looking for goosanders and wasn't having much better luck until I spotted a couple of young redheads loafing on a shelf of damp sandstone. They'd spotted me first, barked and swam off downstream. It only occurred to me then that I had had no idea what noise a goosander makes.

The path by the river

I followed the path round as it turned away from the river to a little pond where common blue damselflies swarmed, pond skaters zipped about on the surface and broad-bodied chasers made inroads on the midge population. A little further on I had a sit-down to decide which paths to take back, having conceded it was too warm for the walk into Prestwich, and I was serenaded by a blackcap. Which probably just objected to my being there. I knew there's a bridge over the railway this side of the motorway so there should be a path into Clifton, I decided to take that as it was the shortest route to a bus stop.

At this point the knees had words. They were not nice words.

Luckily I knew there was a bridge there so I was looking for a path to it, it turned out to be an inconspicuous gap in some elderberry bushes. My knees asked if we really should be doing all them they steps, little did I know what lay ahead. The first few hundred yards on the other side was not the prettiest stretch of The Salford Trail but there was the consolation of watching a buzzard looking out for anything flushed out of cover by passing trains. 

The Salford Trail into Clifton

Then the path turned into some woodland. And lots of steps. At the fourth flight I noticed a path haring off to the left in the direction I was headed so I took that. Which turned out to be a gently sloping meander up the steep bank ending with a mad scramble up to the official path as it goes by Clifton Farm. Which all in all was a very nice walk even though it was very quiet birdwise.

I'd no sooner joined the path than I was passing St Anne's Church, which was dead handy as the bus stop on Manchester Road is by the front gate.

I was shattered when I got home and wondered why until the sensible voice in the back of my head I ignore a lot pointed out that even though it's a lot cooler than it was last week, by any objective measure today was A Hot Day. I'll try to bear this in mind.

A day out

Wren, Lapwing Hall Pool

Despite the weather being less fierce than it has been — but still a tad warm —I've had a very lazy weekend and felt the need to get some traipsing about done. I got myself an old man's explorer ticket, played Piccadilly Station bingo and found myself going to Stoke. Like you do.

The building work on the University of Staffordshire campus has cut off most of the footpaths to and around the River Trent on Manorfields. I walked across the sports field, across the bridge, and along the few hundred yards of path up to the construction site then retraced my steps back to the station. It wasn't an entirely wasted hour, though 

Comma

Magpies and black-headed gulls found what shade they could at the corners of the rugby pitch as they fossicked about in the parched grass. One magpie had had enough and clung to the base of a goalpost to catch its breath in its relatively deep shade. Meadow browns, gatekeepers and a comma bustled about in the thistles by the side.

Female large blue
I think. I couldn't get a better look than this at the underwing so there's the possibility it might be a brown argus. It wasn't attacking any other butterflies and it was that which persuaded me it was a female common blue in the end.

The walk was dominated by butterflies, most of the birds were rustlings in the trees and hedgerows. A mistle thrush joined the blackbirds feasting on rowan berries. Titmice flitted past like shadows, a chiffchaff squeaked, a jay screeched, a great spotted woodpecker called as it flew low overhead and into the trees by the construction site. 

Ringlet

The most picturesque stretch of the river had a child in it. He and his mother were having a picnic and I couldn't blame them. The mallards and moorhens muttered loudly about having their favourite lounging spot thus occupied. The moorhens, as ever, were very vocal about their grievances.

Mallards

I decided to go over to Acre Nook Quarry to see if I could find the ruddy shelduck that's spent the past few days there. It was a long shot as it was reported as being over at the far end of the quarry away from Lapwing Lane but don't try, don't see. I got the train back from Stoke, got off at Macclesfield and got the 87 bus to Chelford, getting off at Ivy House, just by the roundabout.

Chicken of the woods

It was a warm walk down Holmes Chapel Road and I was grateful for the shade of the roadside trees. In the eerie quiet — there weren't many cars either — a calling nuthatch sounded vaguely uncanny, a green woodpecker would have put the wind up me and no mistake. A coal tit came out of the trees to have a look at me as I negotiated the very narrow pavement over the South bridge and I was very glad to see it.

Holmes Chapel Road 

The sheep weren't on the parkland further down the road, the usual crowds of jackdaws evidently went with them. I walked under the dappled shade of the sweet chestnuts on my side of the road, tiptoeing round common blue damselflies and razzed by the blue tits in the hedgerow. Over the far side of the field behind the hedgerow the little pond was hidden by vegetation but was made conspicuous by the lush greens against the straw browns of the rest of the field and the dozen Canada geese and pair of Egyptian geese craning their necks to check me out.

Egyptian geese and Canada goose 

The walk down Lapwing Lane was pretty quiet. Swallows and house martins hawked overhead and tree sparrows muttered in the hedgerows.

Painted lady 

The path to Acre Nook Quarry was busy with common blue damselflies and the verges busy with gatekeepers, red admirals and painted ladies. Southern hawkers and emperor dragonflies patrolled the banks of the quarry and the edge of the trees by the path, and very intimidating they were too.

Acre Nook Quarry 

Nearly all the birds were way over the other side of the quarry, there was only a mallard and a couple of black-headed gulls on this side. There was a noisy raft of black-headed gulls further out, separate from a smaller raft of lesser black-backs and a few herring gulls. Great crested grebes, tufted ducks and coots pottered about, a couple of cormorants dried their wings and the far banks were littered with Canada geese and mallards. Way, way over there were lots of white dots that were almost certainly black-headed gulls and dark dots that may have been coots or tufties. Yonder, probably,  was the ruddy shelduck. Ah well, no matter, it was a fine day for seeing what you can find on a big pool. A drake pochard was a surprise. The reed buntings fussing about in the willows on the bank weren't but they were reassuring to find. And a female emperor dragonfly actually stopped for a break long enough for me to take a photo.

Emperor dragonfly 

Acre Nook Quarry, Alderley Edge in the distance 

My eye kept getting drawn to a figure on the edge of the Canada geese over on the far bank. It was a silhouette and I couldn't make it out and I gave up. As I was walking back I had another look at it and was still puzzled. The change of angle meant I was seeing the bird on its own. It wasn't low-slung like a mallard but it wasn't a coot because it was mallard-sized. It was like a nagging tooth and I kept looking back at it as I walked along. The fourth time the angle had changed enough for the bird to be no longer in silhouette and sure enough, it was the ruddy shelduck I'd told myself I wasn't going to get to see today.

Walking back to Lapwing Lane 

Lapwing Lane 

I carried on down Lapwing Lane and turned into The Mosses. This end of Lapwing Lane had been busy with titmice, blackbirds and a couple of willow warblers, and commas and holly blues fluttered about the bushes. The Mosses were very much quieter, a few woodpigeons, blackbirds, chiffchaffs and wrens and the butterflies were gatekeepers and large whites. I didn't mind, the dappled shade was welcome and it was a very agreeable walk.

The Mosses 

By Lapwing Hall Pool 

It wasn't so quiet by Lapwing Hall Pool but it was a slow start. At first I was only seeing woodpigeons, red admirals and meadow browns. Then a few peacocks and gatekeepers fluttered onto the scene. I could hear but not see mallards. It was only when the path met the hedgerow by Congleton Road that I started seeing and hearing much birdlife. Titmice and nuthatches fidgeted through the mature oaks by the road, reed buntings and willow warblers in the willows by the pool, and goldfinches, blackbirds and dunnocks in the waysides by the path. As the path shifted away from the pool chiffchaffs were flycatching from hawthorn bushes and long-tailed tits bounced through the brambles. Common blue damselflies swarmed about the patches of open meadow, Southern hawkers patrolled the margins of bushes and hedgerows. At last the path returned to the lake where a pair of coots were feeding a couple of youngsters and a pair of mute swans fed just off the bank.

Common blue damselfly 

Lapwing Hall Pool 

It had been hard walking: the ground had been baked dry and it was rougher on the feet than road-walking. I decided not to complete the circuit of the pool and took the gap in the hedge onto Congleton Road and walked back to Chelford. As I was walking over the South bridge I had a nosy to see if anything was on the little stream and noticed a female banded demoiselle sunbathing in the bushes.

Banded demoiselle 

By the time I'd walked over to Chelford Station I was feeling hot and footsore so I knocked on the head any mad fantasies about having a late teatime stroll round Sandbach Flashes. Still, I hadn't done so bad.