Horwich

Goldfinches, Bottom o'th Moor

The weather forecast has been promising heavy rain each day for the past week and delivering not much more than a modestly damp cat so I decided to call its bluff and set off for a walk on the Horwich Moors. It was overcast and muggy when I got the 125 from Bolton and it had started spitting with rain by the time we got to Doffcocker but it didn't seem too bad and by the time I was getting off the bus at Bottom o'th Moor it seemed to be passing over, a stiff breeze sending the rain Manchester's way.

Moorgate Fisheries 

I had a nosy at Moorgate Fisheries, the little flooded quarry by the Blundell Arms. A heron decided it wasn't for being stared at and took itself over the other side of the pool behind some saplings. The usual pair of Muscovy ducks dozed, there was just the one pair of mallards on the pool and nine moorhens seemed to have found plenty to peck at on the far bank.

Shepherd's Drive 

I decided to wander up Shepherd's Drive as I've never been up that way and it looked like the footpath meets Matchmoor Road about halfway up. It might well do but I quickly lost the path and had to retrace my steps but not before bumping into small flocks of starlings, swallows and goldfinches which split their time between sitting on telegraph wires and feeding on the fields by the lane. A kestrel flew downhill at a rate of knots pursued by a black-headed gull (there's always a backstory). The bramble patches along the road were busy with speckled woods, meadow browns and wall browns, these last have been thin on the ground this year. Looking back I saw the flock of starlings return to the wires, accompanied by a couple of young mistle thrushes. I'd already scanned this flock just in case it was my turn to find a rosy starling so finding a couple of interlopers came as a surprise. Always look twice, I guess.

I walked down to Georges Lane with the weather taking a turn for the worse: the wind was lessening but the rain was letting itself be known. I hadn't gone a hundred yards up the road when the heavens opened. I decided it might not be a good idea to carry on with the plan of walking up to Winter Hill and then down to Walker Fold via Burnt Edge.

Wilderswood 

I carried on up to Wilderswood, where dozens of swallows were lined up on the telegraph wires, then took the old Old Rake path over to Factory Hill, taking advantage of the cover of the woods and forgetting that the woods had had to be considerably thinned due to larch dieback. There was enough cover not to get atrociously soaked but not enough to stop the patter of rain on my hood drowning out most small bird noises in the undergrowth. Ironically, the open glades were the most productive with a few wrens and chaffinches and a flyover tree pipit (as always I had to check my identification by listening to a few flight call recordings on Xeno-Canto). I'd found myself a chiffchaff in a hawthorn when a stoat bounded over the path and dived into a dense patch of heather out of the rain.

I was enjoying the walk despite the weather. I turned onto Brownlow Road and headed down into Horwich, the rain getting heavier and the hedgerows busier with blackbirds and robins. I didn't have long to wait for the 125 back to Bolton so I called it quits: I'd had three miles' exercise and the wildlife had more sense than me and was keeping out of the rain which was now a dense sheet of water. I did have the sense to buy myself a new flat cap once I got into Bolton though.

Portrait of the author as a drowned rat