Horwich

Burnt Edge

The spadger production line may have slowed down but it's still productive, with yet another new spadgling sitting in the roses being fed by a male adult as I opened the bedroom curtains.

Lesser black-back, Bolton Bus Station

It was a cool, cloudy morning so I decided on a stroll on the Horwich Moors for a change of pace, the idea being to get the bus to Walkers Fold Road, walk up and over to Burnt Edge then come back down Georges Lane, perhaps with a detour via Wilderswood.

That was the plan. It didn't survive more than twenty yards. Walkers Fold Road was closed to both traffic and pedestrians for roadworks. I was told that it if I took the footpath towards the golf course I could loop round and get back to the road further up past the roadworks. And so I did, a couple of hours later.

I followed the path along then took the turning that would bring me back to Walkers Fold Road. Which it did, bang in the middle of the tarmac lorries. So I retraced my steps and carried on towards the golf course. The path was easy going through short grass skirted with brambles and willowherb. Swallows hawked low overhead and goldfinches and linnets skittered about between patches of thistles. 

Walking towards Bolton Old Links golf course

There must have been about a hundred meadow pipits about judging by the noises in the fields and the dozens flitting about from fields to walls and back again. I'd become so used to the milling mipits that I almost didn't register the two tree pipits that flew out of a bramble patch into a clump of small trees. The difference in appearance was subtle: the head slightly more front-end heavy, cleaner underparts with the streaking virtually disappearing below the breast, hindclaws that didn't look like abnormal growths. Needless to say, they weren't up for having their photos taken.

Descending from the golf course

I walked along the edge of the golf course, supplementing my diet with whinberries along the way, then descended into an unexpected and rather lovely woodland walk. Looking at the map on my 'phone I hadn't expected much of the walk here, just a sharp West turn on reaching Dakin's Brook then on to Walkers Fold. In fact there was quite a steep descent through the trees down to Barrow Bridge Road then the path took a hairpin bend, crossed Dakin's Brook then followed Dean Brook for a hundred yards or so. I was accompanied most of the way by a camera-shy male grey wagtail.

Dean Brook

I could hear, but not see, treecreeper and robins and barely got a glimpse of a calling great spotted woodpecker. I'd reconciled myself to another frustrating bit of high Summer woodland birdwatching when a mixed tit flock bounced through the trees. Mostly juvenile blue tits and coal tits with a family of long-tailed tits and a chiffchaff along for the ride.

Harebells

The path petered out rather. A younger, dafter, me would have persevered but I decided to turn back a little way to the steps up to the main path. How steep and how many steps wasn't apparent from the bottom, my knees were happy once I was up at the top. The walk from there to Walkers Fold was easy going. There were more swallows, goldfinches and linnets but the highlights of this stretch were the huge swathes of harebells and sneezewort running through the grassland.

Walking up to Burnt Edge

I walked up the path from the car park at Walkers Fold up to Burnt Edge. More goldfinches and linnets, a lot more swallows and small flocks of sand martins and house martins passed over. 

I had a nosy round the small conifer plantations on Burnt Edge. A few goldfinches and chaffinches twittered about and a chiffchaff foraged its way round a couple of spruces. I was just on my way back to the top of Burnt Edge Lane when a small bird flew in from the hilltops. It sat obligingly at the top of a tree though I had to manoeuvre myself through a clump of nettles so's not to be staring straight into the sun. Even so, it took a while to be able to work out that it was a whinchat rather than a stonechat (and only then because it turned its head just enough for the white eyebrow to emerge from silhouette.

Looking over to Winter Hill

I had a gentle amble down Burnt Edge Lane and Matchmoor Lane and down to Bottom o'the Moor for the bus back to Bolton. Lots more swallows, a flock of pied wagtails on a dungheap by a paddock of horses and a hovering kestrel, the only bird of prey of the day.