Davyhulme

Goldcrest

I spent most of the morning catching up with the sleep I've not been getting this week. I evidently didn't miss much given the state of the rooftops and it carried on pouring down through lunchtime. The afternoon grew progressively clearer until it got to the point at teatime where I was asking myself if I planned on wasting such a nice afternoon. (The correct answer is: "Yes, if I want to," I have to make a conscious effort not to turn this pastime into a job.)

I've not taken a turn around Davyhulme Millennium Nature Reserve yet this year so I got the 15 to the stop before Woodsend Circle and wandered down Eddisbury Avenue to the reserve. There was a lot of twittering of sparrows and goldfinches in the hedgerows by the car park, explained when I spooked a male sparrowhawk that had been rummaging around in there. He flew off over the Ship Canal and the small birds hooted derision at both of us.

Davyhulme Millennium Nature Reserve

I can't seem to fall in love with this place. Perhaps it's too manicured and too obviously a corporate nature reserve (we can walk it by permission of United Utilities). Perhaps it's because it's fiddly to get to and doesn't lead on to anywhere so it's not a useful add-on to another walk. More likely it's because it's one of those walks that's just long enough to make you feel tired but not long enough to get your second wind and get into a walking rhythm. Which is a shame because for its size it's a very productive birdwatching walk.

Sparrowhawk

I spent a while christening a new camera card with a few "A goldcrest was here a moment ago" pictures. They are least were a bit more obliging than the great tits and blue tits that were bouncing round the same stand of trees under the cover of breaking buds. Robins, chiffchaffs and blackbirds kept up a steady background of song while woodpigeons and magpies bashed about in the treetops (yes, that is a euphemism).

A pair of kestrels rose in a synchronised display flight and slowly drifted over the canal. I thought they were back a few minutes later but it was a male sparrowhawk, probably the one I spooked earlier, and he slowly circled overhead before drifting back down to treetop height and heading off for the back gardens by the car park.

I carried on down the path with greenfinches, wrens and a coal tit joining in the songscape. As I passed a dense stand of dogwood a willow tit churred at me then went about it's business. I had a look at the canal through a gap in the trees, there was only the one mute swan on the water today.

Heron

I took the long loop down to the end of the reserve at Barton Locks. There's a little dock on this side of the canal just here and it's impossible to get an unimpeded view of it. Which is frustrating as I could see a pair of mallards, a cormorant and a black-headed gull sitting by one of the disused winches and it sounded like there was more to be seen behind the trees and concrete. A few herring gulls and lesser black-backs flew low over the locks, as did a pair of great black-backs which made a beeline for the little dock. A heron lurked on the sluice gates looking out for anything that had the misfortune to be caught in the overflow and cast into the shallow water at the base of the gates. I couldn't see what it was catching but it had two successful tries while I was watching it.

Blackthorn

I checked the ponds for frogspawn and found none, I've had no luck yet this year. I thought I'd found my first butterfly of the year but it turned out to be a day-flying moth of some kind. Try as I may most of my moth identification consists of my eliminating the ones I know it can't be, leaving me with a few score possibilities to choose from. This time last year I'd seen six species of butterflies, this year none. The strange stop-start warm and cold spells this month after a very warm February probably has a lot to do with it and the heavy rains won't have helped. It'll be a relief to finally see any.

Something else that was conspicuously missing were moorhens. It turned out they were playing peep-oh on the big pond near the entrance. The only long-tailed tits of the visit were in the shrubs by the pond and a reed bunting sang appropriately from the reeds. As I headed for the car park and the bus home a blackcap started singing from the scrub by an electricity pylon, which was a nice way to end the trip.

Davyhulme Millennium Nature Reserve

I'm going to have to put more of an effort into this site, I'm sure it'll be worth it on the end.