July round-up

July's always a difficult birding month, most of the small birds are quietly going through their post-breeding moult, the ducks are hiding while they moult their wing feathers and the weather can be a bit overwhelming. Add to that this year bus strikes, rail strikes and train services that were as reliable as a government promise when they were running and I didn't get about nearly as much as intended.

Having said all that it was a productive month with a total of 113 species seen, rather to my surprise. 

I try to get a bit further afield in July and August to keep the year list ticking over during the Summer lull. That paid dividends with the trip out to Bempton giving me a pair of life ticks in black-browed albatross and red-tailed shrike, as well as some very welcome puffins and gannets. I finally bumped into Egyptian geese at Pennington Flash and a green sandpiper at Martin Mere and I struck lucky with Manx shearwaters at Lytham.

Spoonbills, cattle egrets and wood sandpipers are still notable absentees on the year list, which should give me an incentive not to be any too idle. It's also a bit thin on peeps so I'll need to do a bit more beach watching in the hopes of seeing sanderlings and/or little stints now the waders have started their return passage.

The year list's currently at 194. I wonder if I'll hit 200 in August.

Salford

Heron

I looked at the morning's cancellations and gave up on today's plans to visit Leighton Moss. Every other train to Barrow was cancelled and given how much a problem getting home can be when services are running properly I decided I could do without the grief.

I noticed that I've not seen any goosanders this month so I went for a toddle along the Irwell between Lower Broughton and Peel Park in Salford.

River Irwell, Lower Broughton 

The flock of Canada geese at Broughton Bridge was smaller than usual, just a couple of dozen birds. There were a few more on the river but nothing like the usual crowd scenes. The Mocha Shopping Centre has been demolished and the Arriva buses that service this stop are on strike but that may be coincidental.

Black-headed gulls

Goosander

The river was very low, exposing gravel banks that are usually just odd bits of turbulence in the river. There were lots of black-headed gulls about with a few lesser black-backs to quarrel with. A redhead goosander loafed on a bit of old tree trunk, there were a few more upstream loafing on the shoals. A heron stalked  near the bank by the bridge, upstream an older bird in full breeding plumage lurked by the Adelphi Bridge. It took me a while to spot the grey wagtail foraging on the far bank, I never did manage to see the chiffchaffs and long-tailed tits calling in the hedgerow by the path.

Goosanders

Peel Park was quieter, a few mallards and black-headed gulls on the river with a Canada goose and a couple of lesser black-backs. I think both of the black-backs were third year birds, one had an enormous bill which I think suggests it was a male. There was a big flock of black-headed gulls up by the Frederick Road bridge, loafing on the gravel banks.

Lesser black-back

I'd had a bit of a potter about and didn't much fancy going back into the city centre so I crossed over the road and got the 100 back to the Trafford Centre then into Urmston for a bit of shopping.

Martin Mere

Sedge warbler, Martin Mere

I decided to have another go at tackling Martin Mere today. The Barrow train was cancelled again but I just had enough time to run between platforms at Deansgate to catch the Blackpool train and make a connection with the slow train to Southport at Salford Crescent. 

I got off at New Lane and took the long way round, taking the pedestrian crossing over the railway near Langley's Brook then following the path round the reedbed walk and on to Martin Mere.

There was some work being done at the water treatment works (I didn't envy the workmen on a warm, muggy day like today) so there wasnt a crowd of birds about, just a few black-headed gulls and lesser black-backs and a couple of pied wagtails. The house martins and swifts were feeding quite high up. There weren't many birds in the hedges, just a couple of blackbirds, but they were more than made up for by the crowds of butterflies, mostly gatekeepers and meadow browns. 

Fennel 

Just before the crossing one of the fields has been entirely planted with fennel, presumably for the seeds because it was all in full flower. It smelt wonderful and provided cover for chiffchaffs, whitethroats and a pheasant.

Kestrel, Langley's Brook

Meadow brown, Langley's Brook

Peacock, Langley's Brook

The field on the other side of the line was awash with meadow browns. The sheer number of them distracted me from a buzzard and a kestrel that were both hunting over the field. At the bottom of the field in the thistles and nettles a mass emergence of peacocks outnumbered the meadow browns. A mixed flock of linnets and goldfinches fed on the thistle seeds.

Heading towards the reedbed walk 

I turned onto the path that goes round the reedbed walk. It was notable for being very quiet, any other time of year it's heaving with bird song and bodies. A couple of chiffchaffs called, a willow warbler took exception to me and a few blackbirds could be heard rustling and muttering in the undergrowth. 

There were yet more butterflies all along the path. Dragonflies, too: brown hawkers and common hawkers patrolled the reed borders, a couple of emperor dragonflies hunted in the trees. One emperor flew close to me, caught a fly and ate it as it flew off. 

I came to one of the gates and had a scan round the small pools I could see through the reeds and spotted a couple of ducks dabbling round the edges, a young mallard and a female shoveler. I could hear, but not see, a lot of greylags. Towards the end of the path I could hear a reed warbler practising its subsong and a sedge warbler poked its head out of the undergrowth to make sure I wasn't trouble.

Juvenile shelducks, Martin Mere

Lapwings and juvenile common tern, Martin Mere

The mere was relatively quiet: there weren't the huge crowds of black-headed gulls or ducks of earlier in the year. Lapwings were the most numerous birds, perhaps a couple of hundred of them. There were perhaps fifty black-headed gulls about, equal numbers adults and youngsters, with a few common terns and their young mingling in with them. Most of the ducks are skulking in cover elsewhere while they moult their wing feathers, there were just half a dozen mallards hiding in the vegetation on the islands. The juvenile shelducks have been left to their own devices, some have taken to the bird gardens, a couple of dozen of them kept each other company on the mere. The adults have nearly all gone off to their moulting quarters, there was just the one to be seen today. Other than lapwings the waders were conspicuously lacking. It's unusual not to see even one ruff or black-tailed godwit. I was just lamenting this when a flash of black and white like a big house martin shot across the far bank, my first green sandpiper of the year.

The Hale Hide was even quieter, just half a dozen young mallards hiding in the reeds.

A walk down to the Ron Barker Hide was accompanied by twitching leaves and branches, some of which turned out to be long-tailed tits, robins or blue tits. Tree sparrows chirruped from the depths of hawthorn bushes. At least the moorhens showed themselves, a couple of them were busy feeding on the first of the season's windfall apples.

Lapwings and whooper swans, Martin Mere

Green sandpiper, Martin Mere

The first thing that struck me at the Ron Barker Hide was how dry the marsh was. It was evident that the remaining pools weren't very deep, barely ankle-high on a lapwing. There were more juvenile shelducks with the lapwings and a couple of teal lurking by the reed margins. A couple of families of greylags grazed the banks. I was surprised to see a couple of pairs of whoopers, it's not unusual for one or two individuals to stay behind for the Summer but these were obviously paired birds. Just when I'd got to thinking about moving on I noticed a green sandpiper shuffling out into the open on one of the islands.

On my way back I had an unsuccessful look in the ivies for any tawny owls.

Red Cat Lane 

I headed off for Burscough Bridge and the train home. Swallows hawked low over the barley fields while house martins swooped and chipped high overhead. There must have been fifty of them feeding over the farmyard at the corner of Curlew Lane. The collared doves at Brandeth Barn have had a good year: fifteen of them were lined up on the gutter of the potato store. I looked and listened in vain for any corn buntings.

A covey of grey partridges, Red Cat Lane

Just before I got into town I noticed a lot of activity in one of the paddocks. A covey of about twenty grey partridges rushed away from the roadside and into the next field.

I timed it right for getting the train back, which is just as well as the next train was cancelled. It had been another of those quiet July days where the birdwatching was hard work but still quite productive, I'd somehow managed to see fifty-four species while all the time thinking I wasn't seeing much. 

Mosses

Red admiral and cinnabar moth catterpillars, Little Woolden Moss

After yesterday's debacle I decided on a nice leisurely stroll over the Salford mosses. I got the 100 bus to Cutnook Lane and had an afternoon wander.

Cutnook Lane was very quiet save the constant passing of woodpigeons between fields. That changed a lot once I passed the fishery: two of the juvenile kestrels were shouting the odds from the scrub behind the trees.

Cutnook Lane 

I carried on up the lane. The pools were largely hidden by the trees, I saw and heard a couple of moorhen families. The chiffchaffs squeaking in the trees by Twelve Yards Road were replaced by willow warblers in the willows by the pools. The birds were difficult to spot, even the long-tailed tits were keeping well undercover. The butterflies on the thistles and nettles were more obliging. Most were large whites with a supporting cast of gatekeepers, speckled woods, common blues and my first small copper of the year. A few brown hawkers whizzed along the path verges and an emperor dragonfly patrolled the treetops. I was taking this all in when a couple of alarm calls came from the great tits in the trees. A dark shape suddenly loomed, a female marsh harrier readied to land in the treetop not twenty feet away, spotted me and shot back whence she came.

I found myself walking through a cloud of deer flies. I don't know which particular species they were but they were very pretty, with black Mayan glyphs on their clear wings and iridescent eyes in golds and greens. They were a damned nuisance. I got a couple of bites (neither party got to enjoy their meal) but nothing major. I've come to the conclusion that the sun cream I've been using has "Bite me" written all the way through so I did without today, two nibbles after quarter of an hour's worth of walking through the swarm seems to support the theory. A few horseflies joined in, landing on my hands but not biting (I had a hand like a bag of tapioca last week).

Rejoining Twelve Yards Road I walked down to Four Lanes End. A couple of buzzards flew over to Little Woolden Moss and a kestrel hovered over a field of barley. The whitethroats were very quiet, not even chacking at me as they disappeared into the mugworts and rank hogweed in the drains. A couple of singing yellowhammers were a pleasure to hear.

There was an eruption of woodpigeons from Little Woolden Moss. Just what you need on a nature reserve: some chuff on a microlight flying down to thirty feet to have a nosey. There was a lot of noise from the buzzards, I hoped one of them had got him.

Gatekeeper, Little Woolden Moss

I got to the entrance to Little Woolden Moss accompanied by young robins, goldfinches and a couple of dead silent willow warblers. Little Woolden Moss is generally either famine or feast. Today was one of the famine days, possibly as much down to weather conditions as frightful aviators. Most of the pools were bone dry and the only birds on the mud were the usual family of crows. A male kestrel hovered over the barley field while much, much higher a flock of swifts were swooping up midges.

Buzzards, Little Woolden Moss

Buzzards, Little Woolden Moss

Buzzard, Little Woolden Moss

I decided I'd go for the bus at Fowley Common Road, walking through the farm and onto Moss Road, so I walked along the path on the Northern margin of the reserve. The buzzards were still calling, as I got to the corner of the path they rose up from the trees and started catching the thermals, spiralling higher quite quickly. By the look and sound of them it was two juveniles and a big adult female. They hadn't had the microlight aviator, I saw him heading off in the distance towards Astley. Shame.

There were at least a dozen meadow pipits fossicking about in the cotton grasses, none of them easy to see. The linnets were more accomodating, flitting about with a flock of goldfinches in the birch scrub by the drain. Red admirals and small tortoiseshells fed on the thistles by the wayside. A couple of large heaths were a first for me.

Bracken and heather, Little Woolden Moss 

Mosslands Farm 

Half of the barley field had been harvested, about fifty woodpigeons rummaged in the stubble for scraps. It was only on my way home that I realised I didn't see or hear any skylarks or lapwings on this walk (and the only wagtail was the male pied wagtail flitting between people's feet at the Trafford Centre bus station). Still more butterflies, including some gorgeously bright, brand new salmon pink painted ladies, looking so very different to the faded individuals still holding territories on the path from Four Lanes End. 

Painted lady, Marsh Moss Farm

The were plenty of spadgers and starlings by the farm houses and one of the chickens had a mixed bag of a brood no two of which were alike.

Hen with her mixed bag

The Glaze Brook was a lot lower than usual. I was just remarking this to myself when a kingfisher shot from under the bridge and disappeared upstream.

The plan was to get the 28 from Fowley Common Road to Warrington then get the 100 back to the Trafford Centre. There was twenty minutes' grace to make the connection at Warrington Interchange. Except there was nothing to say where the bus was going from. Google Maps and the bus timetable said the bus went from the interchange but the interchange disclaimed any knowledge of such a bus and certainly didn't include it on the departure board. I spent twenty-five minutes scurrying around the badly-signed bus stops of Warrington town centre trying to find where the 100 might go from. In the end I gave up and went back to the interchange for a bus up to Leigh. Luckily, the 100 was twenty minutes late due to traffic around the M6 so I discovered that whatever the interchange's signage might say that bus does go from there (it's platform 13 if you need it).

Moss Lane

That last frisson of panic aside, it had been a good afternoon's walk with a quiet but surprisingly productive bit of birdwatching.

Helsby

Linnets

I'm feeling a lot down lately, partly because I'm still feeling a bit broken after last week's heatwave, partly because this past week every time I make plans for getting anywhere by train those plans, and any contingency plans, get scotched by cancellations due to a shortage of train crew. I was starting to wallow in it a bit this morning so I decided to drag myself out for an afternoon walk, intending to catch up with either Leighton Moss or Martin Mere, neither of which I've visited this month. Martin Mere was favoured as I was substantially less likely to be stranded for hours due to cancellations. Either way I'd be getting the Barrow train through to at least Wigan, changing there for the Southport train to Burscough. 

Which train, of course, was cancelled.

I hadn't long to wait for the Llandudno train and it had occurred to me the other day that I haven't visited Frodsham Marsh since January so I got a return to Helsby, the intention being to walk down Rake Lane onto the marsh and get the train home from Frodsham.

The journey to Helsby was uneventful and I was looking forward to a good walk. After I'd crossed over the motorway the sun started to come out and a fresh breeze cut through the muggy air. Swallows hawked low over the fields of barley and linnets twittered in the hedgerows. At the corner by the farm the swallows were joined by half a dozen sand martins flying slightly higher and they, in turn, were joined by a dozen house martins flying at rooftop height. A couple of fields away a flock of a couple of dozen black-headed gulls foraged with a couple of carrion crows.

Along Rake Lane

I'd nearly got to Lordship Lane when I had to give up: a lorry had tipped itself into a ditch, was being laboriously winched out and then left where it was because it was pulling the witching lorry into the ditch.

Road closed

On my way back I assayed another path which the map reckoned would eventually get me onto Lordship Lane. I got as far as a farmyard littered with "Beware of the dog" signs and gave it up. I retraced my way back down Rake Lane, pausing every so often to make room for a passing tractor which was pulling a cess pool emptying trailer up and down the lane for no apparent reason. Unless the driver was being paid by the visit.

Rake Lane, Helsby Hill in the background 

The only option was to walk back into Helsby and go up Smithy Lane and take the path to the next footbridge over the motorway. A buzzard was feeding on something or other on the field by the railway line and as I passed the church a sparrowhawk put the fear of God into a flock of pigeons and was seen off by a black-headed gull that was too close to the drama for its liking.

I walked up Smithy Lane, over the railway and past the last of the houses. The footpath quickly got very unkempt, A hundred yards further on one had to wonder if it had ever been kempt. I got to the corner where the path runs parallel to the motorway and stopped. The last passerby was probably Æthelstan, on his way to sort out the Vikings. I admitted defeat and walked back into town.

I wondered if the path had ever been kempt

I got the number 2 bus into Frodsham, telling myself I could still get over to the marsh from there and knowing full well I hadn't the energy or patience to bother trying. I'd spent the best part of an hour and a half walking three and a half miles to get no closer to Frodsham than a hundred yards from Helsby Station. A dead waste of time, money and a sunny afternoon.  Days like today make me wonder what the hell I imagine I'm doing with this life.

Black bryony

Seaside

Herring gull, St. Annes Beach

Today's plans were put on hold when our local services were cancelled because some poor devil got hit by a train. Which puts the inconveniences of public transport into unwelcome perspective. The change of plan was that I could get into Manchester on the bus with plenty of time to walk to the station for the Southport train for a series of wader watches down the Sefton coast. Except that was one of this morning's cancellations due to lack of train crew. (Saturday was particularly bad for them, which put paid to the teatime walk I'd planned.) Nil desp, I could get the Blackpool train and make connections at Bolton or Preston. When it eventually came…

Which is how I ended up having a walk along the beach from Starr Gate to St. Annes. I'd missed the planned connections but only had half an hour to wait for the Blackpool South train. I changed at Kirkham & Wesham as that's infinitely less oppressive than Preston Station.

St Anne's beach

I got off at Squires Gate and walked down to Starr Gate, a five minutes walk unless the traffic's busy at the main road. It had been pouring down when I left home, here it was dry but very muggy and heavy and even a blustery North wind didn't relieve it much.

Herring gulls and lesser black-backs, St. Annes Beach
An interesting variety of dark greys on the lesser black-backs, not all of which were tricks of the light

The tide was ebbing and the windsurfers were giving way to the dog walkers. There were plenty of gulls scattered around on the beach, mostly in groups of a couple of dozen, loafing or bathing in pools. Predictably, most were herring gulls, a mixture of adults and first-year birds with very few birds of intermediate ages. There were also good numbers of black-headed gulls, rather fewer lesser black-backs and a handful of common gulls. The only great black-back on the beach stood out in the middle of the crowd.

Herring gulls and a great black-back, St. Annes Beach

Herring gulls and black-headed gulls, St. Annes Beach

A passing common tern was a welcome bit of variety. I had hoped on seeing waders coming in as the tide retreated but the only waders about were a dozen oystercatchers and most of them flew off with the tide.

Manx shearwater, St. Annes Beach

Looking out to sea there wasn't much about, not even many passing gulls or any passing cormorants. About half a mile out a trio of eiders flew south over the waves. It took me a while to see any Manx shearwaters and I only noticed the first group flying past as they had to tower and dive over the waves to negotiate a particularly disruptive gust of wind. In the end I saw three groups, each perhaps a dozen birds, which isn't a bad haul by binoculars from a beach. To see big numbers you need to be on a boat or standing on the end of a pier with a telescope.

St Anne's beach 

Once I got to St Anne's I noticed there was a train due in twenty minutes so I got a cup of tea and made my way home via Colne and Rochdale just to max out my old man's explorer ticket and enjoy the views in the rain. It hadn't been a particularly productive day's birdwatching but I'd got my bit of exercise and added Manx shearwater to the year list.

St Anne's Pier 

Season's greetings

The difference a drop of rain makes. The first proper Winter gull flock descended on the school playing field this evening. Seventy-one black-headed gulls and a herring gull spent a while stomping the damp grass for worms before heading off for the evening roost. It won't be long before we start getting the common gulls back

Home thoughts

The gulls are to-ing and fro-ing overhead from the crack of dawn to dusk. Most are lesser black-backs with about half as many black-headed gulls and the occasional herring gull. Ordinarily this time of year they'd be congregating on the school playing field, loafing or padding for worms in between peak scavenging periods just after break times. The grass has been mown to the point of being scalped and the ground is rock hard so the gulls haven't lingered, leaving the crowd scenes to a flock of pigeons.

The magpies have managed to raise a couple of very noisy youngsters, They've not been much in evidence this week as the cat's been spending all her time outside in the warm weather. As far as I can determine the only other difference this arrangement has made is that the hedgehog is getting regular free feeds. Even the woodpigeons aren't much fussed: I was astonished to see the cat and one of the woodpigeons asleep together at the bottom of the cherry tree in the back garden in the worst of the heat wave.

The young robin keeps well undercover regardless, I'll often hear it squeaking in the rose bushes but I'll see it perhaps once a week. The blue tits and great tits have been similarly shy. There's nothing remotely shy about the spadgers, the hard part is catching them and keeping track when they come in for one of their hit and run raids of the feeders. The breakfast run is usually the busiest, I only managed to catch part of the early lunchtime trade this morning.

Easily the most conspicuous birds in the garden have been the family of blackbirds that have moved in to make inroads on the rowan berries, a pair with three noisy full-grown juveniles that between them can send a squirrel off on its heels in a welter of pecks and bad language.

• Black-headed Gull 1 overhead
• Blackbird 5
• House Sparrow 5
• Jackdaw 1
• Lesser Black-backed Gull 1 overhead
• Magpie 1
• Woodpigeon 1

Mersey Valley

Cob Kiln Wood 
(This is the path that's usually six-inches deep in mud)

If I didn't feel like doing much yesterday I felt like doing a whole lot less today after a horribly humid night and a not much better morning. I was wondering why it was feeling so clammy on such a cool day so I checked the weather and found out it was still 26°C and the humidity was 82%. The "cool day" was actually warm and muggy. There'll be some recalibration needing doing after the three day heatwave.

It was cooler outside than in thanks to a steady breeze so it made sense to go for a walk. I began to question the wisdom of this when the breeze dropped but I persevered. This turned out to be the right move as the afternoon slowly got less humid, which was odd as it was looking more and more like it was going to rain. I walked past the allotments with their noisy blackbirds and goldfinches and moseyed on over to Cob Kiln Wood.

I was pleasantly surprised to bump into a female emperor dragonfly when I arrived at Cob Kiln Wood, she was quartering the little clearing by the entrance.

The most immediately obvious thing about the wood today was that every path was bone dry and as hard as concrete. The one obstacle was a branch of crack willow which had done what it says on the tin and cracked in the hot weather but it wasn't difficult to climb around it.

The second most immediately obvious thing was that the cooler weather was triggering more bird song. Chiffchaffs, blackcaps and song thrushes sang in the trees, families of greenfinches and goldfinches sang and twittered as they passed overhead. (A feature of the whole afternoon was the squadrons of woodpigeons flying overhead between fields.) As I walked through the clearing by the electricity pylons families of bullfinches and chiffchaffs foraged in the treetops and wrens and great tits worked their way through the bushes.

As I crossed the Mersey a mallard was escorting her three young ducklings as they moved upstream up the weir.

Banky Meadow was noisy with the songs of chiffchaffs, wrens, blackcaps and song thrushes. A pheasant called from somewhere in one of the fields and a couple of ring-necked parakeets screeched their way over to the rugby pitch. I wouldn't have spotted the family of willow warblers in one of the big alder trees had it not been for the insistent nasal squeak of the youngsters. I dropped down to the river for a nosey then thought the better of it as an old rough was monopolising the beach for firing practice with his pistol. (I had wondered why a gang of kids were in a rush to go up as I was going down).

I debated walking on over to Carrington to get the 255 bus home (the Arriva bus drivers are on strike at the moment so there was no number 18 to pick up in Ashton-on-Mersey). Then I noticed there was a 280 to Altrincham due in five minutes so I caught that. This bus takes in a big loop through Carrington, Partington, Warburton and Dunham Massey, I've been wondering how easy or not it would be to get to Dunham Massey Park and it turns out to be quite easy.

Pennington Flash

Egyptian goose

I was still feeling the effects of the past couple of days and didn't feel like doing much so I dragged myself over to Pennington Flash for a couple of hours' soft ambling about.

Fish frenzy

The stretch between St Helens Road and the car park was dead quiet, even the woodpigeons were quiet. There was a lot of splashing about on the brook as I crossed the bridge, a shoal of roaches were catching the emerging midges before they could take flight and start bothering passers by.

Egyptian geese

I had a scan round the flash from the car park. There were the usual mallards and Canada geese on the lookout for kiddies with bags of food for them. The mute swans were over on the other side of the flash with a few more mallards. There was a raft of over a hundred coots near the shore, further out there were small rafts of a dozen or so black-headed gulls and yet further out towards the sailing club there were rafts of dozens of large gulls, nearly all lesser black-backs with a few herring gulls. There were a few great crested grebes but most of them were in the bight by Ramsdales. A flock of fifty-odd swifts hawked low over the water in the company of a similar number of sand martins and a dozen or so house martins. By far the noisiest birds on the flash were four common terns that were chasing each other about.

There's the beginning of a passage of common scoters going on at the moment and one was spotted here this morning, it had moved on before I arrived. Which didn't stop me having a look for it just in case.

I had one last scan of the shorelines before moving on in the hope that the Egyptian geese were about and available for being seen. They arrived at the beginning of the month, as usual, but I've had no luck so far. It looked like I was having no luck today, too, until I realised they were sat at my feet watching what I was up to. Just two birds this year, not the usual three.

Lesser black-back

There wasn't a lot to be seen from the Horrocks Hide and both the Tom Edmondson Hide and Ramsdales were fairly quiet. There were plenty of mallards about but other ducks were conspicuous by their absence. The usual Cetti's warbler at the corner by Ramsdales could only muster a few bursts of song, barely finishing the phrase each time. Even the lapwings were being unusually self-effacing.

I followed the path round to the Teal Hide. It was approaching teatime so the warblers were starting to lumber up, the chiffchaffs were making the most noise, a few blackcaps burbled from the hawthorns by the canal and a garden warbler had a quick gallop of song from the depths of the willows.

The Teal Hide was the busiest of the day, mostly with mallards, black-headed gulls and magpies. A couple of families of moorhens fussed about the reeds and a dabchick bobbed about in the only deep water on the pool. A few lapwings loafed on the little islands and the car park oystercatcher poked around in the mud by the black-headed gulls. There were just half a dozen young gadwalls, I wonder if the adults are amongst the huge moulting flock on Woolston Eyes. A couple of teal flew in just to make up numbers.

The feeders were down at the Bunting Hide so it was quiet. A couple of robins hunted scraps on the bird tables while a family of great tits checked out the scraps left behind by messy squirrels. A small shape moving about in the undergrowth turned out to be a young-looking chiffchaff.

Robim

A

Chiffchaff

Chiffchaff

Even though it was so quiet it had been a surprisingly productive visit, over forty species recorded over a couple of hours.