Marton Mere

Red-legged falcon

Marton Mere's been on my "must visit" list for thirty years but I've never got round to visiting it. Another lifer, a red-footed falcon showing well for the past few days, proved to be the much-needed kick in the fundament to get me there.

Getting there was easy: I caught the number 4 bus round the corner from Blackpool North Station, got off at Worcester Road shops, walked a block down to Stanley Park and the first path on the right goes straight to Marton Mere. This is a pleasant walk through fairly tidy scrubland, plenty of speckled woods and red admirals on the brambles and woodpigeons in the trees.

Apples. And blackberries.

The first thing that struck me about Marton Mere wasn't the lake and the reedbeds, it was the apple trees. There were dozens upon dozens of them along the paths. The whole place smelled very pleasingly of cider. I couldn't see any knots of birdwatchers about so I decided to have a dawdle round.

Marton Mere 

The first hide I came to overlooked a reedbed beside the mere. There were more than a couple of hundred gulls, mostly herring gulls with a few lesser black-backs and just the one great black-back, split between a big raft of birds on the mere and the roof of what looked like a small industrial unit just behind the trees. I could also see a few mute swans, mallards and tufted ducks and fifty-odd geese. I think this is one of those hides where you really need a telescope.

I wandered down the path around the mere marvelling at the number of dragonflies there were patrolling the long grass and whizzing round the apple trees. The bulk of them were common darters and common hawkers. I was just congratulating myself on finding the first brown hawker of the day when I spotted a dark shape flying through the trees that wasn't one of the hundreds of woodpigeons. It shot by about hundred yards ahead and disappeared into some trees. My first impression was of a hobby — dark slate wings and pale underneath — but something wasn't quite right about it. Was this the red-footed falcon, and was this going to be all I saw if it?

I needn't have worried, about a hundred yards further ahead I heard a cry of: "There!" from behind some trees. I looked that way as the falcon rose above the trees and shot my way, passing low overhead. More by luck than judgement I got a record photo as it zoomed past. What was "not quite right" about the bird was its compact shape, pale tail and pale head. It wheeled around and disappeared behind some more trees. I was happy to have seen the bird so close.

A bit further on a bunch of photographers had staked out a tree as being favoured by the falcon. I passed the time of day and carried on walking  I'd seen the bird and wanted to see more of the reserve before trying to get a third look.

There were yet more dragonflies, which obviously attracted the falcon. A couple of migrant hawkers zipped around yet another stand of apple trees. The windfalls attracted more speckled woods and red admirals as well as wasps and hoverflies.

Marton Mere 

I counted three Cetti's warblers singing in the reeds. Our local ones have been quiet for a few weeks so the first burst of song rather startled me. The gulls were busy and noisy and a cormorant came in to land on the mere. Over on the fields beyond the telegraph wires were lined with woodpigeons and swallows and a buzzard soared on the thermals over the farm.

I had a chat with one of the local birdwatchers who was also avoiding the crowds, "I'll just sit here and if I see it I'll see it, if not then it's a nice day." I admitted it was my first visit to the reserve. He recommended the Winter starling murmurations and pointed out which farm sheds were best for owls (barn, little and tawny). I thanked him warmly and carried on with my walk. A family of great tits provided a medley of unlikely squeaks and chirrups in a willow while a couple of jays screeched in an oak tree.

On my way back to Stanley Park I bumped into the crowd again. This time they were facing the mere and concentrating on a big hawthorn bush in the reed bed. The falcon was showing exceedingly well, sitting in the bush and making short sorties to catch passing dragonflies which it took back to the bush to dismantle and eat.

Red-legged falcon

Red-legged falcon

Red-legged falcon

It had been a very rewarding walk in very fine September weather. I didn't fancy Blackpool North Station on a warm Friday teatime so I walked down to Blackpool South and got the train back to Preston and thence home. Northern Rail, having provided a very commendable days' rail journeys made amends by cancelling my connection at Salford Crescent so I ended up getting the bus home.