Winter wonderland

Robin auditioning for a Christmas card
Dairy House Meadows

I had a day out in Cheshire, taking advantage of the usual empty trains between Christmas and New Year and its only being a half hour trip from Altrincham to Northwich. I was hoping to add to the year list: there had been repeated reports of a firecrest at Marbury Country Park and a bittern on Budworth Mere and lesser spotted woodpeckers are a rare resident thereabouts. The plan hadn't reckoned on more overnight snow. The slush of Stretford was firm snow by Altrincham and the countryside by the Mid-Cheshire Line was covered by a white blanket. Of particular note was one field just outside Mobberley that was covered in cock pheasants.

Bullfinch, Northwich Woodlands

I walked down to Northwich Woodlands from the station, making slow progress due to treacherous conditions underfoot. I decided to give the flashes a miss and have a nosy round them on the way back, heading straight for Marbury Country Park (with an accidental exploration of Uplands Wood after taking the first path on the left instead of the second).

Along Marbury Lane

The hedgerows along Marbury Lane were full of robins, wrens and goldfinches. The tit flocks were small, generally only great and blue tits; just the one flock included a family party of long-tailed tits. There were lots of nuthatches but they were generally feeding on the ground in the company of robins and dunnocks.

Nuthatch, Northwich Woodlands

A less conventional view of a nuthatch

There were a lot of jays about in the woodlands, not being at all shy about their business. Jackdaws, carrion crows and buzzards added to the soundscape.

Marbury Country Park

The paths through Marbury Country Park were busy so I took to the rough paths through the trees, which weren't a lot worse underfoot than the metalled paths. There were a lot of blackbirds and song thrushes feeding in the undergrowth, but I only found a couple of redwings.

Marbury Country Park

The paths by the shore of Budworth Mere were very busy so I didn't linger long. Most of the open water was still ice-free so great-crested grebes could carry on with their fishing. Mallards, coots, mutes and tufties haunted the shoreline in the hopes that all these people meant someone would have brought some food with them. A herd of Canada geese on the opposite side were making a hell of a racket.

Nuthatch, Marbury Country Park

I found the Woodland Hide which is reported to be the best place for seeing the firecrest when it's about. The feeding station was very busy with titmice, robins and nuthatches. I scanned around in the hopes of the firecrest or a lesser spotted woodpecker but it wasn't my day for them, even after one of the regulars pointed out the favoured holly and yew trees. Ah well, you live in hope.

Dairy House Meadows

I walked over to Neumann's Flash via Dairy House Meadows, which looked very picturesque. Most of the flash was frozen over with clusters of coot and mallard huddling under drowned willows and a flock of wigeon loafing on the ice with a few dozen black-headed gulls. Ashton's Flash was entirely frozen over, with all the action limited to the blue tits and reed buntings feeding in the reeds.

And then back to the station, in plenty of time for the next train. Four hours' walking and I have to say that I hated most of it: nearly all the paths were slippy with half-melted ice, slippy with wet mud, or slippy with half-melted frozen mud and I'm an uncertain walker on ice, I'm too long in the leg for the circumstances. I had one bit of luck when the shoulder strap on my bag came adrift so I had to carry it like a briefcase: what I lost in ease of use of binoculars and camera I gained by having a relatively low slung pendulum helping with the centre of gravity. Why do I do this when I could be sat at home reading comics and drinking too much tea? An old chap I bump into at Pennington Flash sums it up nicely: "It's an addiction. I get fidgety if I've not gone out with my bins for a few days."

Train home, a rather nice Cheshire sunset matched by the rise of the full moon, and as I put the key into the lock of my front door a skein of pink-footed geese flew overhead, honking in the darkness.