Leighton Moss

Blue tit

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

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

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

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

Juvenile robin

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

Treecreeper
You might want to look twice at those feet.

 

At Lilian's Hide 

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

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

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

Walking into the reedbeds

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

Speckled wood

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

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

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

Juvenile great black-back

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

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

Common darters

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

Peacock

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

The causeway 

The causeway pool 

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

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

Walking down to the Lower Hide 

The Lower Hide 

From the Lower Hide 

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

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

Red admiral

Silverdale Station was also awash with butterflies.

Meadow brown

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

Home thoughts

Juvenile blackbird

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

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

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

Wildfire haze

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

Buxton

Buxton Pavilion Gardens 

It was hot. I got an old man's explorer ticket with a view to getting about, having a quick look at a few places and spending most of the day sitting in air-cooled trains with their windows open. I had plans of going to see if that Slavonian grebe was still at Acre Nook Quarry or the green-winged teal on Sandbach Flashes. Dear reader, I stayed on the air-cooled trains with their windows open watching woodpigeons and butterflies as we passed them by. The outside world was like a school trip to an iron foundry.

By teatime it was bearably hot so I had a wander round the Pavilion Gardens at Buxton. The mallards and geese stayed in the shade of the trees with a couple of mandarin ducks, the drake already in full eclipse plumage. No birds bathed in the stream. The swarms of "bees" over the water turned out, on closer inspection, to be Batman hoverflies. I looked in vain for dragonflies. Not really surprising, I guess, an apparent swarm of bees wouldn't be a draw for them.

The stream through the gardens

It was a very agreeable wander round and much though I wanted to beat myself for being defeated by the weather I couldn't be bothered.

Wellacre Country Park

Coots

It was day two of what will the third heatwave of the Summer so far and I decided to play it safe and wait until after teatime to go for a stroll. I got the 256 into Flixton and debated whether to go for a walk round Wellacre Country Park or walk down to Irlam Locks. On a whim I chose the former.

Painted lady, a little bedraggled after a dogfight with a red admiral.

I walked into Wellacre Wood from Town Gate, blackbirds, song thrushes and woodpigeons singing in the trees and butterflies knocking holes out of each other in the nettles.

Red admiral none the worse after a dogfight with the painted lady. Tough little buggers, red admirals. 

Wellacre Wood 

I've run out of ways of saying the wood was quiet but busy — hints of robins in shadows, ninja titmice, blackbirds melting into the undergrowth, all that sort of thing — and that the sense of tranquil mystery about this sort of scene doesn't really survive song thrushes furiously singing at each other. So I'll just say that it was a very gentle walk through the trees on the approach to the golden hour.

Wellacre Country Park 

I didn't walk over to Jack Lane, I was keeping an eye on getting the bus or train home and had decided I'd have a look at Dutton's Pond then walk to the station via Flixton Bridge and get the train home. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also secretly hoping I might bump into the tawny owl again. (I didn't.)

The coots and moorhens pottered about on Dutton's Pond. The young coots are getting their white shields on their foreheads and are losing the last of their pale chest feathers. A dozen mallards were dozing at one side of the pond but floated over to have a look as an angler landed a large carp, took a photo and lowered it back into the water. Over the other side another angler stopped slinging out ground bait because a couple of black-headed gulls were getting to it quicker than the fish.

As I walked past Green Hill towards the Merseyview exit a mixed tit flock silently passed through the horse chestnuts and a Southern hawker zipped over to give me the eyeball.

Green Hill 

I didn't linger on Flixton Bridge, aside from the family of moorhens under the bank there was nothing on the river.

I got the train home from Flixton. As I left the station a couple of shapes shot across the road and over the school playing field and away. Kestrels don't often come this way, it's the first time I've seen one mobbed by a swift.

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.