Leighton Moss

Goldcrest

There are two reasons why I go out birdwatching, besides the love of the thing. One is to get some exercise, in particular the walking keeps the leg joints working. The other is to clear my head, breaking the feedback loops that infest depressive episodes. I get impatient with a lot of the guff about mindfulness but the basics are sound: you're doing something that requires concentration on something that might not even be there, providing both a distraction and leaving no room for other thought. Today I was so wound up it nearly didn't work, it took about three hours before it started taking effect. Still, it worked in the end.

By the visitor centre

Leighton Moss wasn't excessively busy today, it still had that sense of post-school holiday calm about it. The mallards by the picnic area were having to make do with the scraps from the bird feeders which were very busy with chaffinches and great tits.

Shoveler on a stick, an ongoing series

Black-headed gull

The pool at Lilian's Hide was littered with mallards, gadwall, coots and teal while shovelers dozed on the banks. I looked in vain for any waders or raptors. Hordes of common hawkers patrolled the reeds, they were to be a feature of the entire visit.

Common hawker
It's rare for one to sit still long enough for a photo

The walk to the reedbed hides was relatively quiet. Chiffchaffs called in the trees and robins foraged in the undergrowth. The reedbeds were even quieter, just the occasional woodpigeon or black-headed gull flying over and a couple of moorhens in the drains. I picked out a couple of migrant hawkers amongst the patrolling crowds of dragonflies and common darters sunned themselves on the gravel path.

Female common hawker

At first sight the pool at the Tim Jackson Hide looked empty, a dozen dozing ducks were hidden behind the big sand martin nest box and it was a few minutes before they drifted into view. There were a couple of gadwalls amongst the mallards. It was obviously siesta time: half a dozen teal were sleeping in the reeds and even the couple of coots that walked out onto the bund were quiet. There was a bewilderment of dragonflies, their jinking flight making it almost impossible to track and identify them. I picked out a couple of keeled skimmers, there almost certainly were more and there were half a dozen something elses I couldn't identify.

Griesdale Hide was similarly somnolent though the rooks feeding on the field beyond the reserve provided a soundtrack.

Goldcrest

The walk back through the reedbeds was more eventful. A Cetti's warbler spent a couple of minutes warbling, a mixture of snippets of song with bits of un-Cetti's-like robin chips and blackbird clucks. A couple of swallows passed overhead and chiffchaff called in the willows. A movement in the undergrowth at the corner turned out to be a couple of goldcrests, the vanguard of a mixed tit flock including blue tits, great tits a couple of chiffchaffs and a marsh tit.  Approaching the sky tower I bumped into another pair of goldcrests and another mixed tit flock, this time a couple of dozen long-tailed tits with blue tits and chaffinches.

I walked over to the causeway. Chiffchaffs, robins and another Cetti's warbler sang in the trees along the boardwalk.

Causeway pool

Mute swan, coots, carrion crow, greenshanks, cormorant and gadwalls

The Causeway pool was busy. A small herd of mute swans fed in one corner with a few more in the distance towards the Lower Hide. Rafts of coots, mallards, gadwall and wigeons, each a dozen or so birds, were scattered about. The drake wigeons were still in their ginger biscuit eclipse plumage while the gadwalls were in pristine breeding plumage and already gathered in courting parties with lots of quacks, whistling and head-bobbing. Teal, coots and mallards dabbled round the reed margins, a heron stalked in the reeds. More mallards and gadwalls loafed on the island with a couple of cormorants drying their wings. 

Gadwalls

Gadwalls

Wigeons

Having said the other day that greenshanks don't like each other's company there were three of them fussing about at the end of the island. They were very vocal, almost but not quite sounding like redshanks: slightly deeper with a shorter, clipped call. A buzzard rose and soared from the trees in the reedbeds and was met by a flock of sand martins.

Greenshanks

I checked the train times. I had plenty of time for getting the next train to Manchester as it was running late, then there was a couple of hours' wait for the next train South. The cancellations looked ominous so I decided not to take any risks and headed for the station. It hadn't been a classic day's Leighton Moss birdwatching by any means but the weather was splendid, there was plenty enough about and I'd managed both to get some exercise and clear my head so all in all it had been a damned good wander.

Leighton Moss