Half-year review

A juvenile blackcap joined the juvenile great tit, blue tits and spadgers in the garden this morning so I guess it's been a more productive year locally than I thought.

It's been a cool, wet end to a record-breaking scorcher of a June, typical of a year so far that's alternated long warm spells with sudden blasts of cool and wet.

As predicted I caught up with the year list as Spring finally arrived and it now stands at 184 compared to 187 this time last year. There have been a few dips along the way, notably the rosefinch at Kendal and marsh warbler in Stoke and I've still not managed to catch up with green sandpiper, curlew sandpiper or black-necked grebe but there's time yet. And I've not yet visited a seabird city. Bempton's been tricky to get to because of changes to timetables, engineering work and my deep distrust of Transpennine Express so I'll likely nip over to South Stack first.

Species accumulation January to June 2023

Species accumulation January to June 2022

My British list stands at 299, having added a couple of lifers and alpine swift to the list. I'm probably worrying too much about getting past that milestone.

I've been tackling the ever-expanding lists of new places to go and visit while trying to cover as many old favourites as possible. An explore of Mere Sands Wood has opened up the possibility of a walk between Rufford and Martin Mere one day, weather and energy permitting. And I found that the Longendale Trail is both easy and productive. For some reason I've still not been to the Northwich flashes and woods and need to rectify that a.s.a.p. Similarly the washlands of South Yorkshire. I'll need to start having stretch years to fit in All The Places.

For domestic reasons I'm still limiting myself to days out and for financial reasons these are tending to be in the Northwest but I'm still getting about a bit.

• Cheshire & Wirral 122 species so far this year
• Cleveland 31
• Cumbria 80
• Denbighshire 37
• Derbyshire 44
• Flintshire 28
• Greater Manchester 123
• Lancashire & North Merseyside 136
• Staffordshire 27
• Yorkshire 46

 (If you ever need your mind bending go over to the National Rail website and try and make sense of the rover and ranger tickets that are available.)

The next couple of months are traditionally the trickiest in the birdwatching calendar for finding the "regulars" as they go into post-breeding moult and the weather gets oppressive but that's offset by the start of the Autumn passage, usually kicked off by waders drifting back in July. And late Summer often has a surprise or two up its sleeve so it'll be interesting to see what does and doesn't happen.

Mersey Valley

House sparrow, Kenworthy Wood

It was another relatively cool, cloudy day with a fair breeze and a slight risk of showers and I wondered what to do with it. I entertained all sorts of notions and stressed out about timings and logistics then told myself to calm down and go for a walk. So I got the 101 bus from Manchester, got off on Princess Parkway just before the river and walked down the Mersey into Chorlton.

River Mersey by Kenworthy Woods 

It was lunchtime as I walked along the Cheshire side of the river by Kenworthy Woods where the wrens were singing loud and proud, the blackcaps and chiffchaffs made occasional song-like noises in the trees and ring-necked parakeets made soft cackling noises deep in the canopy. Blackbirds and blue tits bounced around in the trees either side of the river and there was a steady overhead traffic of woodpigeons and carrion crows. A cock house sparrow foraged on the bank by the path paying absolutely no heed to me as he busily foraged for insects on the umbels of hogweeds and cow parsleys.

Large skipper, Kenworthy Wood

There was a profusion of butterflies, equal numbers of large whites, small tortoiseshells, meadow browns and ringlets with a few large skippers and a couple of commas. They were all very busy and scarcely stayed still as they bustled along the vegetation on the banks. The bumblebees — mostly buff-tailed, I think — seemed even busier. The common blue damselflies at least stopped every so often for a rest.

Common blue damselfly, Kenworthy Wood

A grey wagtail flitted about the river bank and half a dozen Canada geese floated upstream in a rather purposeless fashion. I'd just reached the shoals just before the bridge to Chorlton Water Park when a couple of redhead goosanders hurried into the middle of the river and steamed upstream at a rate of knots.

Goosander, Chorlton

Chorlton Water Park was relatively quiet of both people and birds. Small rafts of Canada geese and mallards drifted about, a mute swan ferried six large cygnets around and the coots were surprisingly few and far between. A couple of black-headed gulls flew about, a couple of male great crested grebes had a fight and the reed warbler sang from the tiny scrap of reeds by the playground. 

Chorlton Water Park 

All the small birds had congregated in the trees at the Northwest corner of the lake: a blackcap and a chiffchaff sang while families of blue tits, long-tailed tits and goldfinches bounced around in the treetops. I was thinking it odd not to have heard or seen a robin when I nearly tried on one. I was apologising for my clumsiness when I noticed a treecreeper sidling up the tree trunk behind the robin.

Juvenile goldfinch, Barlow Tip

Barlow Tip was awash with dragonflies and butterflies. Common blue damselflies zipped around all over the place. I couldn't see any candidates for other species of damselfly amongst the crowds. Southern hawkers and brown hawkers patrolled the thistle tops, occasionally their erratic trajectories would coincide and there'd be a few seconds' dogfight before they went their separate ways. I expect each would see the other as a decent meal given half a chance. A couple of large whites mobbing a brown hawker like house martins mobbing a hobby smacked of recklessness. Half a dozen swifts hawking overhead suggested there were enough small insects about keep the dragonflies going. I spent a while trying and failing to get pictures of hawkers in flight before admitting defeat.

Small tortoiseshell, Barlow Tip

Small tortoiseshells, ringlets and meadow browns flitted about the meadow, commas, large whites and a small skipper along the woodland margins. A song thrush sang from deep in the woods, almost drowning out the blackbirds and chiffchaffs. A family of goldfinches busied themselves in the young trees on the meadow while a couple of whitethroats had a singing duel. A family of magpies bounced through the hedgerow by the path back to the river, disturbing a jay in the process.

Barlow Tip 

I walked down the river to Jackson's Boat. Unusually there was nothing on the river along this stretch. A total absence of hirundines was also noticeable. They've been a bit thin everywhere this month. I haven't walked through a cloud of midges once this year, probably because our hottest June on record has dried up all the ditches, small pools and large puddles a lot earlier than usual. From a selfish point of view I don't miss the midges but I expect the swallows and martins do. Every so often I had to watch my step as caterpillars of red admirals and small tortoiseshells marched across the path from one heat exhausted nettle patch to another.

River Mersey 

The parakeets at Jackson's Boat were strangely subdued as they flew around the trees. Soft cacklings in the depths of the sycamores suggested that a few youngsters were about. The only swallow of the day flew downriver and over onto Sale Ees.

A couple of lads were canvassing for Sustrans by the bridge to Jackson's Boat. I gave my opinion on the manners of Chorlton's cyclists. They'd been hearing similar all day. A suggestion that they'd widen the paths or have parallel paths for cyclists and pedestrians alarmed me. There's already an extensive network of paths and the Transpennine Route is fairly wide enough so long as both cyclists and pedestrians take care for the other. I reckon what's really needed are traffic calming measures on the straight runs of the route so rogue cyclists can't get their heads down and go for speed like they're on the velodrome, a danger to other cyclists as much as pedestrians. The last thing we want is having natural environment being taken out of the public realm and concreted over so that more cyclists can be arses. I bit my tongue at the suggestion that street lighting be installed along the paths to prevent drug use, I didn't point out that Piccadilly Gardens never sees nightfall.

Chorlton Ees 

I walked through Chorlton Ees which was quietly busy with mostly invisible birds. The chiffchaffs, blackcaps and whitethroats were heard but not seen, the blackbirds and robins seen but not heard. A family of blue tits briefly poked their heads out of a hawthorn bush and woodpigeons clattered about the treetops. More swifts hawked over the treetops.

Chorlton Ees 

It was much the same in Ivy Green, a couple of song thrushes and a dunnock adding to the songscape. I walked through and got the bus home the better for taking a more leisurely approach to the day's birdwatching.

Ivy Green 

Leighton Moss

Juvenile bullfinch

After yesterday's trek I got myself an old man's explorer ticket and had the nice lazy stroll round Leighton Moss and the trains behaved impeccably for me (though not for many, judging by the cancellations listed on the boards). 

It was a cool, grey day and the light rain was incessant, I enjoyed it greatly. There was a party of tiny tots come for a visit and the rain didn't seem to dampen their spirits either and a party of mallards wandered into their storytime to add to the fun. From a selfish perspective it's a bit of a faff working around a school group but I'd sooner they were visiting and enjoying nature reserves than not, and this time the teachers weren't foghorns either, which was nice.

From Lilian's Hide 

Nearly all the black-headed gulls had left the pool at Lilian's Hide and the lingerers were only there for a wash and brush-up. Rafts of moulting mallards drifted round the pool. Gadwalls were few and far between and always distant, something I found to be true throughout the visit. A pair of young-looking pochards caught my eye so they disappeared into the reeds.

Leighton Moss, entering the reedbeds

Walking down to the reedbed hides there was a lot of furtive activity in the willows. Investigation was not helped by the fact that every raindrop hitting a leaf looked like a small bird was bouncing on the nearby twigs. The wrens and chiffchaffs showed themselves fairly readily, the robins not at all even though I could hear them. It was strangely reassuring to bump into a great tit this time, their absence last time unnerved me. A marsh tit sneezed at me from the undergrowth by a ditch and I was damned if I could see it despite its repeating the performance a couple more times from the canopy by my head.

I was looking at a family of Canada geese in the main drain, the half-grown goslings now sporting black heads and necks and white cheeks like their parents, when a young red deer barged across the drain and disappeared into the reeds. It was so fast my mind only registered a fairly chunky rear end about a hand too high for a roebuck and rather a lot too ginger.

Mute swan and cygnets

At the Tim Jackson Hide the coots were feeding well-grown youngsters, the black-headed gulls had gone, a mute swan had a nest full of young cygnets and the oystercatcher was still sat on its nest. A red deer stag bellowed quietly to himself somewhere in the trees and this mingled oddly with the lowing of cattle a couple of fields away.

Nesting oystercatcher

Reed warblers and Cetti's warblers sang in the reedbeds and blue tits and great tits foraged in the drowned willows. 

The grit trays are in there somewhere 

There was an object lesson in the growth spurts of reeds at the point where they'd been cleared and opened out the better to see a couple of grit trays used by the bearded tits in Winter. There was a bit of reed growth here on my last visit. The grit trays are invisible now.

Great black-back and chick

At the Griesdale Hide the great black-backs have a well-grown chick in their nest, big enough for the only thing likely to be able to bother it being another great black-back. Reed growth was hiding most of the action downstairs: reed warblers and reed buntings were singing and somewhere was a flock of greylag geese. A flock of swifts barrelled in to hawk over the pools for midges and they were joined briefly by a couple of sand martins.

The Griesdale Hide 

By the Griesdale Hide 

I walked back and had a look at the feeding station by the visitor centre, my attention having been attracted by the loud calls of a very young bullfinch. It didn't take a lot of finding, it was sat on the top of a sunflower seed feeder trying to persuade its mother to share the seeds.

Leighton Moss 

I'd had a couple of hours' wander. I looked at the weather and looked at the trains and decided not to push my luck. I had a five minute wait for the next Barrow train and took it as far as Ulverston with a quarter of an hour's wait for the Manchester Airport train.

The salt marshes were still mainly dry, which was good news for the sheep but not so good for the little egrets and shelducks which had to feed in the estuaries. It was a lowish tide so there wasn't a lot to be seen on the Kent Estuary at Arnside save singles of redshank, oystercatcher and curlew and a couple of shelducks. There were more shelducks feeding on the beach at Grange-over-Sands and parties of loafing black-headed gulls and herring gulls. Dozens of eiders loafed on the mudbanks of the Leven Estuary while oystercatchers, redshanks and shelduck browsed the open mud and little egrets hunted in the creeks.

I could hear that the lesser black-backs had at least one youngster in their nest on the canopy of Ulverston Station. It wasn't until my train was pulling in that one came to the edge of the canopy so I could confirm what I was hearing. I think there's a herring gull nest on the roof proper but out of sight of the platform.

A nice, very productive lazy day out.

Wigan bumper bundle

Small skipper, Bickershaw Country Park

It was a cooler, sunny day with a nice breeze and I wondered what I was going to be doing with it. My original plan was to have a lazy wander round Leighton Moss but I didn't really want to be bothered with trains, which wasn't a bad call in the event as it's all been a bit hairy North of Lancaster today. Eventually I drifted over to Leigh for a wander round Bickershaw Country Park, kicking off a bit later than planned because the 126 was half an hour late leaving the Trafford Centre.

Bickershaw Country Park 

I got the number 8 bus to Edna Road and walked down to the entrance by the lake. Over by the car park dozens of Canada geese and mallards loafed on the bank while families of coots and moorhens fussed about the lake. Chiffchaffs, blackcaps and blackbirds sang in the trees and a pair of jays made a racket as they bounced around the treetops. Walking round the South shore of the lake I hoped to be seeing dragonflies but aside from a couple of blue-tailed damselflies none were to be seen.

Coot and chick, Bickershaw Country Park

Kingfisher, Bickershaw Country Park

As I rounded a corner a flash of dark blue caught my eye in the trees on the opposite bank. Even though I knew it was there it took me a while to find the kingfisher, serenaded by a reed warbler and a Cetti's warbler as I hunted for it.

Bickershaw Country Park 

Moving onto the open scrub willow warblers took over from the chiffchaffs and whitethroats from the blackcaps and a couple of swifts barrelled over. There were more butterflies, mostly brimstones and meadow browns. Every year I'm surprised by how small large skippers are and every year I misidentify my first small skipper's because I know I'm always surprised at how small large skippers are. The marsh thistles and vetchlings of the shaley waste gave way to field thistles and buttercups and the appearance of ringlet butterflies and common blue damselflies. Goldfinches and chaffinches twittered and squeaked in the trees and a pheasant called from somewhere in the heather.

Bickershaw Country Park 

I reached the junction between the paths going all points of the compass and headed North. Pairs of stock doves browsed the grassy meadows, more willow warblers, chiffchaffs, blackcaps and whitethroats sang, a family of bullfinches bounced across the path as I approached the road to nowhere (possibly the best-preserved road in Greater Manchester, it used to be used by the lorries taking slag up top). I startled a few rabbits as I took a side path off the road. After the blisteringly hot weather lately it was reassuring to find a few muddy puddles along the paths.

I decided to have a look at the fishery near Bickershaw Lane, an inspired choice as all the dragonflies I hadn't been seeing were concentrated here. Huge numbers of common blue damselflies whizzed about. There were a few azure damselflies and at least one blue-tailed damselfly in the mix and the variability in the females of common blue damselflies gave me plenty of scope for confusion. If you told me there were other species of blue damselflies in there as well I couldn't contradict you. Black-tailed skimmers basked, four-spotted and broad-bodied chasers chased and a brown hawker patrolled some meadowsweet. It was good to see my first Southern hawker of the year. Coots and mute swans had families on the water and somewhere in the reeds a dabchick hinneyed. I was surprised there was enough cover for a Cetti's warbler to have a territory.

Along Close Lane 

I crossed Bickershaw Lane and tried to trace back the path I took earlier in the year that took me past HMP Hindley. In the end I found a better path about a hundred yards to the left that connects to Close Lane and thence into Hindley. Willow warblers, whitethroats and chiffchaffs sang in the fields and trees and reed buntings sang in the wet meadows. I was extremely surprised to bump into a half-grown grey partridge as it walked down the path. The partridge was just as surprised and discovered it could fly about six feet and disappear into the tall grass.

My reassurance at finding a few muddy paths was stretched beyond its limit

I missed the bit where Close Lane turns to meet the rough path to Low Hall and found myself exploring a slag heath that's in the process of being colonised by heather and St John's wort. My reassurance at finding a few muddy paths was stretched beyond its limit so I turned round and had another go at finding the right path. When you're standing on top of a slag heap you don't expect a passing common tern but there was one.

Low Hall

I found the right path and had a meander round Low Hall. There were more chiffchaffs, blackcaps and willow warblers singing in the trees and I kept tripping over wrens and blackbirds.

Amberswood 

Amberswood Lake

I wondered if I had the legs to walk through Amberswood to Ince for the buses to Wigan but a quick look at the bus schedules gave me no choice unless I wanted to walk the same distance down to Platt Bridge or Hindley. (At this time in the evening the 132 only goes as far as Tyldesley so realistically I had to get the train home from Wigan.)

Mute cygnets, Amberswood

The coots, mallards and mute swans were parading their young families around the lake, the swans going out of their way to be obnoxious to the mallards, hissing and barging their way through the family groups. A Cetti's warbler joined a reed warbler in singing in the reedbeds, blackbirds, blackcaps and song thrushes in the woods. Walking down to Manchester Road the hedgerows were busy with blue tits, wrens and chaffinches, a family of long-tailed tits bounced about deep in a sycamore and a goldcrest sang from a gorse bush.

Mute swan and mallards, Amberswood

Mallard ducklings beating a retreat, Amberswood

I got the next bus into Wigan, had five minutes' wait at Wallgate for the train into Manchester and got home to a "What time do you call this?" from the cat.

Bickershaw Country Park 

Home thoughts

Superficial appearances to the contrary the garden is full of young birds. The amount of chance, luck and serendipity involved in actually seeing any of them is tremendous. I have to be looking out of the window at precisely the right moment to see one of them sneaking out of cover to grab a sunflower seed or a beakful of fat balls before immediately diving back to its hiding place. Identifications that during the Winter would take a second or so can take ten minutes as I follow the course of twitching leaves and branches and put together a jigsaw of feathered parts. Which gets complicated at times as they've formed a mixed flock of juvenile blue tits, great tits and house sparrows supervised by a couple of silver team cock sparrows and, occasionally, by old silver cheeks himself. 

I'd written off the coal tits' breeding success so they brought two youngsters in yesterday just to show how wrong I was. They were very hard work, hopping about in the rowan tree while the parents showed them where the feeders were. Eventually they sallied forth and gorged themselves on suet while their parents terrorised the aphids on the blackcurrant bushes.

I've not seen any woodpigeons in juvenile plumage on the school playing field so far this year. It takes them about six months to get the white patch on the side of their necks so it would be a lot early for all of them to have got it. There's plenty of woodpigeon nookie going on out there so I'd think there must be some youngsters somewhere.

Chat Moss

Chat Moss, walking North from Twelve Yards Road 

It was a cooler, greyer sort of day today so I thought I'd have an afternoon stroll around Chat Moss to see if I could bump into any of the quail that have been singing on there this week. I also thought I'd check out Little Woolden Moss for quail and see if the Channel wagtail's back this year. There's also the little matter of the black grouse that's appeared from God knows where or how but keeps being seen flying about at teatime. So I thought I'd go for a walk.

The weather forecasts and radar promised a bout of light rain late afternoon and heavy rain this evening so I'd taken my raincoat. Just as well as the "light rain" was early and started the moment I stepped off the bus and onto Cutnook Lane. I wish I'd thought to put my cap in my pocket, trying to hear birds with my hood up is tricky unless I tuck it behind my ears (I didn't meet a soul until late on so this is precisely what I did).

There was a flock of woodpigeons with the horses on Raspberry Lane, magpies and carrion crows foraged on the turf field across the road and swallows hawked low over both. Further along Cutnook Lane chiffchaffs and blackbirds sang in the birch scrub, a blackcap sang in the hedgerow by the fishery and families of wrens bounced about in the bracken. A female kestrel sat on the farmhouse roof awhile before flying off across the field.

A dozen or more black-headed gulls fussed about the fishery and more flew to and fro between the pools on the moss. There was a steady traffic of lesser black-backs overhead heading towards the roosts on the Mersey. Woodpigeons flitted between fields and copses and a few pairs of stock doves flew by.

Just North of Twelve Yards Road 

North of Twelve Yards Road the chiffchaffs gave way to willow warblers, of which there were many. I wondered what the magpies were mobbing in the tree just ahead of me until a buzzard flew off at head height. Only once the buzzard had gone did the woodpigeons take fright at my being there.

In the willow scrub a couple of large red damselflies and an azure damselfly braved the rain, as did my first common darters of the year. A couple of whitethroats and a song thrush joined the willow warblers in song. Goldfinches bounced through the treetops, including some juveniles still young enough to be being fed by their parents. A pair of bullfinches had a couple of youngsters with them.

Twelve Yards Road 

The mallards and moorhens on the open pools could be found easily enough once I got the right side of a couple of birch trees but I could only hear the reed buntings and oystercatchers. I thought it was going to be the same with the heron but it flew up over the trees and headed off over the railway.

The light rain became a little heavier and I decided to knock any ideas of visiting Little Woolden Moss on the head. As I walked down the path back to Twelve Yards Road a family of stoats barrelled across the path. The kits stayed to play in the rain for a few minutes completely oblivious of me and my wet camera until their mother reminded them they were supposed to be crossing the path. The light was atrocious so the photos aren't much cop technically but they were great fun to watch.

Stoat kittens at play in the pouring rain

The light was abysmal so I was happy to get any sort of photos of them at all.

Mother arrived and made sure they got across the path and off to wherever it was they were going.

I trudged back down the road. The singing skylarks, yellowhammers and meadow pipits in the fields gave way to the blackcaps and song thrushes in the hedgerows down Cutnook Lane. I didn't have long to wait for the 100 back to the Trafford Centre and thence home. It had been the most comfortable walk I'd had in weeks.

Twelve Yards Road