Mersey Valley

Buzzard, Stretford Meadows

It was a fairly lazy day in the garden with birds quietly popping in and out to feed or sing from the sycamores on the railway embankment but no  dramas or crowd scenes. A day typified by the pair of collared doves dozing off a warm mid-afternoon in the cherry tree.

Collared doves

By teatime I eventually decided this wouldn't do, I should shift myself and get a bit of exercise. So I toddled down to Stretford Meadows. I decided to take the paths closest to the cricket pitch this time as this is where most of the reports of the feeding pair of lesser whitethroats have been coming from. I also wanted to see if I could get to see the pheasant I keep hearing calling from round here. I heard the pheasant but we were obviously circling round each other because a couple of minutes after I heard it calling immediately in front of me it was calling from behind me. I decided it wasn't worth turning the walk into a Roadrunner cartoon and gave up on it. I had very slightly more luck with the lesser whitethroats: a couple of calls from one of the bramble bushes and a brief and entirely unsatisfactory sighting as a male flew from a clump of comfrey into the depths of a goat willow then disappeared God knows where.

In contrast, common whitethroats, blackcaps and chiffchaffs were bounding all over the shop, most of them carrying a beakful of catterpillars or flies.There was a lot of singing, too, with the warblers being joined by reed buntings, dunnocks and wrens and every copse of trees had its resident song thrush belting out its song. No willow warblers today but they seem to be confined to the area around the horse paddocks at the end of Newcombe Road.

My first orchids of the year — early purple orchids, I think — were scattered around where the grass and nettles were thin and spindly.

Early purple orchid, Stretford Meadows

A large crow flying north high over the paddocks didn't look right and on inspection turned out to be a second calendar year raven, big and heavy-beaked but still beardless. A shape lumbering out of the trees just after the cricket ground turned out to be a buzzard. Once it emerged from the trees it slowly circled up then drifted over in the rough direction of Trafford Park. A partial moult and worn old feathers made it look a bit tatty round the edges but I think this is the same bird I see every so often at Barton Clough.

Sunbathing blackbird, Stretford Meadows

A bit further along I spent a few minutes watching a male blackbird sunning itself on the dusty path ahead of me. I waited until it had moved on before continuing. Not very long after I heard a couple of blackbird alarm calls and glancing up I saw a male sparrowhawk soaring overhead.

The plan had been just to have a stroll round the meadows but I didn't fancy walking back home from the top corner through the housing estate so decided to join the path running by Kickety Brook then through Stretford Ees and go home via the town centre.

Stretford Ees was a lot busier than the meadows had been. Even so, on a whim, I decided to carry on down to the river. The grassy meadows either side of the path were busy with feeding house sparrows and reed buntings. I don't know why, it's always nice to see a lot of reed buntings in one place. A couple of young moorhens were feeding on the moss covering the shallow pool at the end of the brook.

Young moorhen, Stretford Ees

Joining the path to the river I was scouring the waterside for wagtails of one sort or another when my eye was taken by something very dark and very bright. I don't recall ever seeing a banded demoiselle before. A very handsome beast.

Banded demoiselle, River Mersey by Stretford Ees

Past Turn Moss, which was littered with family groups sitting and enjoying the sun a good distance apart from each other, aside from the group in the corner having a barbecue who seemed to have decided we're back to business as usual. It sounds like the parakeets here have successfully reared some youngsters, there were a lot of raucous begging calls coming from the ash trees.

Away from the river Chorlton Ees was much quieter as far as people were concerned, a lot louder as far as robins, blackcaps and song thrushes were concerned. The chiffchaffs were quieter and were usually carrying too much in their beaks to be  much vocal. A jay by the little hidden pool was uncharacteristically quiet: I only noticed it because its claws made a bit of dry bark rustle as it moved along a branch.

I cut through Hardy Farm and then through Ivy Green, where a family of jays were making a blood-curdling racket and my first chaffinch of the day was singing. From there on to Edge Lane and back home through Stretford.