Urmston

Cattle egret

The plan had been to have a lazy morning then have at the house with mop and yard brush to look presentable for the New Year but when a cattle egret turns up twenty minutes' walk away and the weather's behaving itself then plans need to be revised.

I'd seen a report of a cattle egret on Cob Kiln Lane the other day and kicked myself for not turning right instead of left on my walk through the wood. Nothing more was heard until it was reported again yesterday afternoon so I thought I'd best walk over there before it did a flit and mindful of the heavy showers promised for the afternoon.

(In case it's still around and you don't know the area, go into Urmston and walk down Stretford Road to the Lord Nelson. The road you want is directly opposite, next to the garage.)

Cattle egret and little egret

Cattle egret 

Little egret

Little egret 

I walked down the lane to the sounds of blackbirds, robins and ring-necked parakeets and passed the stables. As I got to the gate to the footpath there, a field away, were some white birds. Two herring gulls and a black-headed gull. And a little egret. And a cattle egret. The cattle egret was strutting round like a catwalk mannequin, it had obviously enjoyed the attention of yesterday's observers. I was the only one there today though I bumped into a couple more birdwatchers later on who had seen it earlier. A wet hoof-chopped field full of earthworms seemed to cater well for both the egrets.

Cob Kiln Wood 

I toyed with the idea of taking the path over to Urmston Meadows then decided not to be silly and walked home through Cob Kiln Wood. The rains of the past few days hadn't helped the paths any and I almost kissed the little bridge over Old Eeas Brook when I got to it. The wood was busy with robins, great tits and blackbirds and gangs of magpies clattered in the trees and a pair of parakeets screeched overhead.

The bridge over Old Eeas Brook

I'd been deaf in one ear with earwax yesterday (a delayed bodily reaction to my dad's television and the cat having a shouty day when she learned she'd missed out on the New Year's Honours again) so it came as a relief that i could hear the tapping of a goldcrest picking at twigs in the bush by my shoulder just as easily as the tapping of a great spotted woodpecker in the trees ahead. The goldcrest was part of a very dispersed mixed tit flock that seemed to stretch from the beginning of the footpath to the bridge.

I squelched home for a shower, a change of clothes and a merry Christmas from the cat.