Martin Mere

Shelduckling

Third time lucky, and despite the trains to and from Southport being particularly prone to strikes, I got to Martin Mere.

I got off the train at New Lane and walked along the track beside the railway. Spadgers, robins and blackbirds rummaged around in the hedgerows, more blackbirds and robins sang with the chaffinches and whitethroats and I was struck by the absence of both midges and hirundines, both probably put off by the cold edge to the wind on a cloudy day. I very rarely hear or see yellowhammers round here so it was good to hear two or three of them singing from the hedgerows on the other sides of the fields.

Juvenile starlings, New Lane
You hum it, I'll play it.

The vast majority of the starlings on the water treatment works were juveniles. I had the impression that the adults had dumped them there at breakfast club while they went to have a rest. There were a few magpies and black-headed gulls on there, a couple of pied wagtails flitted about and a pair of oystercatchers felt the need to chase any carrion crows away from a corner of the compound.

Stonechat, New Lane 

As I was walking along the margin of the field of fennel I was kept under close escort by a male stonechat. The fact he was on his own suggested his mate was busy at the nest. (The pair that's usually lurking around the collapsed shed on the other side of the railway didn't make an appearance at all, which is very unusual.) 

Walking by the line

Whitethroats, chiffchaffs and willow warblers sang from the trees on the opposite side of the line. As did a Cetti's warbler which came as a surprise. By the end of the day I'd have heard more Cetti's warblers singing from hedgerows than chiffchaffs or blackcaps.

Overhead pairs of stock doves flew to and fro, there was a steady traffic of woodpigeons and jackdaws and a couple of jackdaws closely shadowed a kestrel on its way across the fields. Way over by the copse beside the road a couple of carrion crows were giving a buzzard a hard time.

The path around Martin Mere 

I crossed the line, walked round the field. Reed buntings and yellowhammers sang in the rough between the field and the reserve. The surprise of the day was two kingfishers flying across the path right in front of me and heading off for the distant reedbeds. I watched them on their way and joined the path that runs round the outside of Martin Mere. One of the unexpected outcomes of the lockdown period is that this walk's pretty much become routine for me. Cetti's warblers, chiffchaffs, willow warblers and blackbirds sang in the hedgerows, sometimes accompanied by robins or wrens, others by song thrushes or chaffinches, and every so often by a pheasant. Behind the hedge in the reedbeds beyond reed warblers, reed buntings and sedge warblers sang, coots quarrelled and greylags muttered to keep their goslings in line. At a couple of points I could see some of the pools beside the reedbed hides, avocets and lapwings wading in the shallows or chasing off passing crows and gulls.

Early purple orchid

There were orchids amidst the buttercups and yellow rattle in the small stretches of meadow. The common spotted orchids (and/or hybrids including common spotted orchid, they're a bit promiscuous) had background colours ranging from pure white to dark wine red almost matching the colours of the spikes of the early purple orchids deeper in the grass. There were enough insects on the meadows for swallows to hawk around at knee height, swooping round to avoid me only at the very last second.

The stretches of meadow are really quite tiny but very productive of flowers and insects.
The line of trees top-centre mark the path to the outside of the water treatment works where the Winter warblers hang out.

The sun started to poke through the clouds and woke up the damselflies and dragonflies. Common blue damselflies were abundant by the path margins, with enough azure damselflies in the mix to stop me getting cocky and plenty of freshly emerged immature damsels still in ghostly colours that I didn't have a hope of identifying. My first banded demoiselle of the year, a dramatic-looking gun metal blue male with mostly black wings, flitted past into the reedbeds.

Silver Y moth

The sun eventually woke up the butterflies and day-flying moths. The butterflies were nearly all large whites and speckled woods, a couple of large skippers were keeping undercover in the grass. For a moment I almost convinced myself that a silver Y moth was a skipper of some kind.

Shelducks
I don't recall seeing that sky pointing posture before 

The same shelducks in more conventional pose

I left the reedbed margins and joined the path to the road, treading in the only patch of mud of the day just because. A tractor was working in the field though I couldn't work out what work was being done. Despite this there were a couple of dozen shelducks with the mallards, crows and jackdaws, perhaps taking a breather from half-term fun.

Black-headed gulls, nests and chicks

Black-headed gulls and greylags

I went straight to the Discovery Hide for a look at the mere. It felt fairly quiet despite the couple of hundred black-headed gulls out there. Some were sitting on eggs, some had tiny chicks and some juveniles were testing their wings for take-off, reflecting the long, protracted entry into Spring. Greylags and Canada geese bobbed about in gangs, mallards and tufted ducks in pairs, shelducks in ones and two and usually looking round to see where their ducklings had hared off to (reckless isn't the word). A couple of common terns flew about but never quite settled. It took me ages to find the Mediterranean gull dozing on a distant island.

Preening shelduck

A marsh harrier floated over the distant fields, its passage marked by mobbing lapwings and black-headed gulls.

I wandered down to what used to be called the Kingfisher Hide (for the life of me I can't remember its new name). The tree-lined paths were fairly quiet, a few woodpigeons and great tits, not a sign — again — of any tree sparrows. I turned onto the side path to the hide and was astonished to hear a female tawny owl hoot. I know they're around here and every time I pass by I search the trees for a roosting owl but I can't remember ever hearing a tawny owl in broad daylight before. I couldn't think what might provoke the call then two carrion crows sidled out of the trees next to me and flew off. Try as I might I couldn't actually see the owl.

The view from the Kingfisher Hide 

It was deadly quiet at the Kingfisher Hide. I was grateful when a blackbird flew by.

From the Ron Barker Hide 

It wasn't a lot busier at the Ron Barker Hide. A few mallards and tufted ducks rummaged about in the drain with a mute swan. A few black-headed gulls and coots dozed and squabbled on the pools. Canada geese and goslings grazed.

On the way back I spent a good quarter of an hour scouring the trees for any signs of tawny owls. With no luck. It ought to be easy finding something the size and shape of a Watney's Red Barrel, perhaps I'm just not very good at seeing owls.

Red Cat Lane, Burscough 

I checked the train times. There was no point in walking round for the next train from New Lane as it was cancelled and by the looks of it the next one a couple of hours later was, too. I walked down to Burscough Bridge, the fields looking and sounding deceptively quiet. Every so often some woodpigeons or goldfinches would emerge or pairs of stock doves fly by in a purposeful manner. Swallows and house martins hawked over turf fields that were being mown. A flock of black-headed gulls, jackdaws and rooks followed a plough while lapwings kept their distance. And as I walked down the road into Burscough I could see fifty or more woodpigeons lurking in a field of potatoes.

I got the next train home from Burscough Bridge, was just late enough back into Manchester to get the train home but never mind, it had been a good day out.

Wigan flashes

Great crested grebe and chick, Horrocks Flash

The weather was still not altogether to be trusted so I thought I'd be as well to have one of those walks where I can bail out and get the bus home if I have to. I got the train to Wigan, walked down Chapel Lane (which sounds picturesque but is the A49 dual carriageway), dropped down onto the towpath for the Leeds and Liverpool Canal and headed towards Leigh. Other directions are available but this one gets you to the Wigan flashes.

Marsh orchid, Poolstock 

The first stretch runs alongside Poolstock Lane. The songscape was mostly blackbirds, robins and wrens with a supporting cast of chiffchaffs, blackcaps and song thrushes in the trees on the other side. Goldfinches and greenfinches twittered about, magpies and woodpigeons lurked on rooftops and swifts hawked over the canal. A young blackbird made a nonsense of hiding in deep cover in an elder bush by making such a racket when its mother turned up with a beakful of assorted worms. I've not seen any orchids yet this year so it was nice to see a good showing of marsh orchids (southern marsh orchids, I think) peppered about the towpath verge. A few drake mallards floated about on the canal, a duck with two well-grown ducklings sat on the bank, dropping down into the water as I passed.

Mallard and ducklings, Poolstock 

Leeds and Liverpool Canal, Poolstock 

The canal took a sharp turn to the left towards the flashes, a collection of lakes formed by the subsidence of abandoned coal mines. The canal wiggles it's way through them towards Platt Bridge.  Some, like Westwood Flash on the other side of the canal here, are hidden from the canal by trees while others are right next to the canal towpaths. The first Cetti's warbler of the day was singing from typically scrubby reeds by the canal near Scotmans Bridge where the main road passes over.

Common tern, Scotman's Flash 

Scotman's Flash was on the other side of the bridge on my side of the canal. This is the biggest of these flashes. Over of the far side a herd of mute swans cruised the reedbed margins. A raft of a couple of dozen large gulls — equal numbers of herring gulls and lesser black-backs — drifted midwater while black-headed gulls and common terns called noisily as they flew about. Dozens of sand martins and swifts hawked low over the water.

Common blue damselfly, Scotman's Flash 

Closer to hand, on the bankside, half a dozen common blue damselflies clung onto the windblown grass hoping to see the sun sometime.

Swift, Scotman's Flash 

I spent a few minutes getting a sizeable portfolio of "there was a swift there a moment ago" photos.

Scotman's Flash 

Out on the flash a couple of pairs of great crested grebes warily cruised by each other, keeping a good thirty yards of clear water and flashing ear tufts whenever they drifted too close. There were a few mallards about but only the one coot and, surprisingly, not a single tufted duck.

Greylags and goslings, Leeds and Liverpool Canal 

Canada geese and goslings, Leeds and Liverpool Canal 

I passed a mixed group of greylags and Canada geese on the towpath, the greylag goslings looking a good way ahead of the Canada goslings. 

Looking over through the trees on the other side of the canal it looked like all the coots were on Pearson's Flash with a few mute swans. A very dark buzzard passed over the flash and it took me a while to be sure I wasn't looking at a marsh harrier, it was only when it turned and headed over the canal towards Poolstock I could see enough of its shape to be satisfied of the identification.

Scotman's Flash 

The reedy end of Scotman's Flash was noisy with warblers: blackcaps, chiffchaffs and willow warblers in the trees and whitethroats and Cetti's warblers singing in the scrub with a few reed buntings.

Buzzard, Turner's Flash 

I crossed Moss Bridge and walked the towpath on the Turner's Flash side. There's a good bit of woodland between the towpath and the flash with garden warblers joining in the songscape. The first reed warbler of the day was drowned out by Cetti's warblers at a small pool near the bridge. A male kestrel hovered overhead before moving on towards Pearson's Flash and another, paler, buzzard passed overhead. The buzzards are moulting their flight feathers, giving them rather harrier-like silhouettes in flight.

Mute swans and cygnets, Leeds and Liverpool Canal 

Mallards drifted down the canal. A family of mute swans and their cygnets led a parade of drake mallards. It all looked very purposeful but I couldn't see it. Behind the trees on the other side Canada geese and oystercatchers on Bryn Flash voiced their protest at a passing helicopter.

Swallows under the railway bridge by Horrocks Flash 

The Wigan to Liverpool train line separates Turner's and Horrocks flashes. A few pairs of swallows had started nests underneath.

Horrocks Flash 

The towpath runs alongside Horrocks Flash with cuts through the trees giving excellent views of this end. Horrocks Flash is only slightly smaller than Scotman's Flash and is shaped like the letter E, the towpath runs along the baseline. 

Horrocks Flash 

Black-headed gulls and common terns were making a lot of noise. I wasn't sure if a couple of nests were on the go, there was certainly a lot of courtship and display. The coots were uncharacteristically furtive which suggests the nests had eggs not young. A great crested grebe cruised about with at least one little humbug riding deep in its back feathers. I was surprised to see a drake pochard loafing on a small rock, the pochard was surprised when a cormorant decided to land on that rock regardless of whether anyone was already there. 

Common terns, Horrocks Flash 

Reed buntings and reed warblers sang with the dunnocks, robins and blackbirds in the reedbeds at the end of the flash. The Merlin app told me that the reed bunting I could see singing five yards away was a robin and a blue tit, the sort of response which stops me using it on any regular basis.

Leeds and Liverpool Canal 

The stretch from here to Platt Bridge where the line between Wigan and Golborne passes over the canal is wooded. Chaffinches, great tits and goldcrests joined the songscape as I left the last of the Cetti's warblers behind. Young great tits bounced and squeaked in the trees, the long-tailed tits were very quiet.

Platt Bridge 

I weighed up whether or not I had the legs to go on from Platt Bridge through Abram to Plank Lane and/or Pennington Flash and decided I wasn't convinced. I'd had a fair walk and the weather had more or less behaved itself, I could — and should — do the walk from Plank Lane to the flashes another day. So I called it quits, getting the 320 back to Wigan and the 132 back to the Trafford Centre.

Etherow Country Park

Mandarin duck and duckling

A bright and sunny dawn gave way to a very wet mid-morning but I had the fidgets and decided to get out before I did something daft like shaving my head or, more probably, shaving the cat's head. I got the train into town and the first train out I could use with my monthly travel card was the one to Rose Hill Marple, so off I went. I hadn't brought bins or camera because the weather was so grim, I was planning on a bit of looking out of the window birdwatching from trains or buses. I could get the 383 from the station into Compstall, have a look for mandarin ducks in the rain at Etherow Country Park and then get a bus into Stockport and drift off elsewhere was as close to a plan as I'd managed by the time I got off the train.

By the time I got off the bus at Compstall the rain had abated. It was still around but OK for walking in. The Canada geese, mallards, jackdaws and pigeons on the boating lake were clustered by the visitor centre being fed by damp children. There was just the one mute swan, a young cob, the rest succumbed to bird flu last year.

Etherow Country Park 

The walk through Etherow Country Park was fairly quiet. Mallards and mandarins dozed under the willows on the bank of the canal. A couple of mallards had a couple of ducklings each, a few mandarins had one or two each. The ducklings were at that tiny, reckless stage where they're so busy chasing midges they don't keep an eye on where their mothers are and when they all got mixed up it was surprisingly difficult to work out which was mallard and which mandarin. When the mandarin ducklings got excited I could see the crests on the tops of their heads. Oddly, none of the Canada geese had goslings and I didn't see any coots.

Blackbirds, robins, wrens and a chiffchaff sang in the trees, goldfinches and house sparrows flitted about, blue tits and great tits rummaged in the undergrowth and dunnocks chased each other about the brambles.

Mallards and mandarins 

A crowd of mallards and mandarins were mugging little children for food on the old mill pool at the top of the canal. The drake mandarins were already looking bedraggled as they were losing the long plumes of their breeding finery and starting to hint at eclipse plumage. The drake mallards on the other hand looked ready for anything. 

River Etherow 

The grey wagtails were nesting on the river, a new site away from the traditional one near the waterfall created by the canal overflow. I couldn't see any sign of dippers. Given the rush of water on the weir I wouldn't think they've been nesting under there this year.

Keg Wood 

I hadn't intended going for a walk in Keg Wood but seeing as I hadn't intended any of this walk it seemed to go with the flow. I've rather turned the paths here into a bogey so that I'm almost afraid to go far for fear of the impact of the dips and rises on my knees. Bloody-mindedness overtook pain and caution and I had a good walk round, I was fine by the time I got to the cottage by the orchard and by the time I was on the end stretch and back onto the road back to the visitor centre I'd got a lot of the movement back into joints that had stiffened up in the cool, damp Bank Holiday weather. 

Keg Wood 

Blackbirds, robins and garden warblers dominated the soundscape. Here and there there'd be a singing blackcap, chiffchaff or song thrush. A goldcrest sang from the scrub in the hollow of the first deep dip. The blue tits, great tits and chaffinches were hard to find though their contact calls were everywhere. There was the lingering smell of garlic and bluebells though their flowering had passed over and all but the densest patches of beechwood was carpeted with the young growth of Himalayan balsam. I was sad to have missed the star of Bethlehem flowers though I did find one, rather tatty, remnant poking through a patch of bistort. A few large whites fluttering about were a bit of a relief, it's been lousy weather for butterflies and damselflies.

Roe deer, Keg Wood 

Looking through the trees on the approach to Sunny Corner I could see a roe deer grazing at the edge of the meadow. I knew they're about here because I occasionally see their hoofprints but it's the first time I've seen one.

By Sunny Corner 

I had a sit down at the bus shelter affair to catch my breath and say well done to my knees. A couple of blue tits and a nuthatch took this as a signal that they were going to get fed, the nuthatch being particularly persistent about the matter, coming back every so often to check I hadn't changed my mind. Had I anything on me I would have done, I'll have to remember next time. Blackbirds and a song thrush sang, a pheasant and a great spotted woodpecker called from the other side of the wood. A pair of blue tits had made a nest in a hole in a tree trunk immediately below a nest box which was confusing when I first noticed them visiting it.

The blackbirds and song thrush had taken a breather which is how I was able to notice a pied flycatcher singing from somewhere nearby. I was in luck and it flew into the canopy of a nearby tree to feed, gleaning insects from the leaves as it bounced about. I'm always surprised by how tiny they are, they're not a lot bigger than a coal tit and if anything look even smaller because of their compact shape.

Keg Wood 

Buoyed up by that encounter I wandered back. The walk back round is easier because most of the steep stretches work in your favour. A couple of buzzards made a racket as they soared overhead and drifted into Ernocroft Wood.

Moorhen 

It was a quiet walk back to the visitor centre. I'm often amused by small dogs carrying huge sticks about with their owners. It seems moorhens have similar ambitions, one was swimming down the canal with a piece of willow branch twice its length dragging behind it.

Etherow Country Park 

The journey home was blissfully uneventful. It's the first time I've changed buses at the new Stockport Interchange, it's a lot better than the old bus station and infinitely better than the interim arrangements that had been made during the construction.

I got home in time for the sun to come out, which is par for the course these days.

Bank holiday monday

Carrion crow 

It's Late Spring Bank Holiday Summertime Seaside Special Monday so of course it's been pouring down all day. That, plus the unreliability of bank holiday public transport (stares hard at train companies) persuaded me out of any of the planned walks.

The blackbirds have been on their own for the dawn chorus lately, "my" blackbird and the ones at the station and the corner of the road battling it out for an hour before getting themselves some breakfast. One of the woodpigeons sometimes gets a quick burst of song in around 5am but he's very much an outlier. The rest of the woodpigeons and the collared dove can't be bothered before seven, the wren has other things to do before nine and the robin is afternoons and evenings only.

The young carrion crows are being allowed out without an escort, spending most of their time digging round on one or the other field. One has taken to calling down the chimney, a disturbing sound rather like a donkey being sick. The young blue tits have been back in, still being supervised and fed by their parents. I felt a bit sorry for the adults, they looked exhausted and particularly bedraggled in the rain.

Blue tit

I've seen very few young spadgers, which is a shame as we're down one adult male. I saw a shape in the sycamores, it was only when I looked from the bedroom window that I could see it was the female sparrowhawk eating its prize. The fact there wasn't a huge commotion in the garden tells its own story.

Over at the school the lesser black-backs come in for the lunch break, on days like today when there isn't one they soon pack it in and go over to the Trafford Centre. The field is nearly always swathed with a flock of thirty-odd woodpigeons, all adult. Sometimes they're  joined by half a dozen of the pigeons from near the station, most times there's at least half a dozen magpies bouncing round out there.

We do have swifts but they're only showing themselves late teatimes, five or six of them swooping round over the older terraced houses down the road. I've never seen house martins round here but we've only been here since the sixties. The ones in Stretford town centre are back but not numerous, I'm yet to see the ones usually in Urmston.

Tomorrow's weather promises much of the same. It's good for the garden they say but as the garden's looking like an outpost of the Amazon rain forest I'm not convinced it needs this much coddling.

Bempton

Gannets

I know, I know, Bempton Cliffs on a bank holiday Saturday. After yesterday's debacle I needed a bit of a boost. I had a complimentary travel pass from Northern to play with so off I went.

The Sheffield train was nearly half an hour late so I missed the Scarborough train which would take me to Bempton. Given the choice between hanging round Sheffield for fifty minutes or hanging round Meadowhall for forty-five I opted for the latter. So I sat in the early morning sunlight listening to greenfinches, blackbirds and chiffchaffs and watching the goldfinches and robins flit about the bushes by the platforms.

Greenfinch, Meadowhall 

The clouds rolled in as we trundled into the East Riding and took on three trainfuls of passengers at Hull before we took a sharp left turn and headed off for Bridlington and beyond. When I got off the train at Bempton there was the threat of rain in the air that made me glad I'd brought my raincoat just in case. Swallows hawked over the station, chiffchaffs and whitethroats sang in bushes and a lot of juvenile rooks were making a racket in the nearby rookery. Walking through the village I felt a nostalgic twang at the sight of swifts hurtling round a church tower.

Yellowhammer, Cliff Road 

I headed up Cliff Road. The house sparrows and starlings of the village gave way to the whitethroats and yellowhammers of the fields, the robins and blackbirds were constant companions. I spent a few minutes watching two well-grown young hares running round the far corner of a field supervised by an adult. The rain didn't happen and it was all very pleasant.

Tree sparrow

Arriving at Bempton Cliffs sooner than I anticipated — I always think it's a much longer walk than it is — I checked out the scrap of woodland around the car parks. Over the past few days this has hosted a few late passage migrants including an icterine warbler and a marsh warbler, a couple of birds that would be lifers for me. I had no joy with lifers but there were plenty of nesting tree sparrows and a few youngsters. Blue tits, chiffchaffs, robins and wrens rummaged about in the bushes and woodpigeons and magpies bounced about in the trees. I had a bit of a sit down to watch the tadpoles in a little pond round the corner.

Bempton Cliffs 

The reserve was, predictably, very busy. I wandered over to the cliffs and had a look round, avoiding all the crowded viewpoints (the part of me that studied geology started talking about shear stresses, besides which I'd had a month's quota of crowds on the way in). 

Razorbills 

Hundreds of guillemots loafed on the sea, similar numbers huddled on sheer cliff faces. There seemed to be nearly as many razorbills until I looked down the gulleys at the big cliff faces and saw how many guillemots were crowded down there. The puffins took some finding, flitting in fast with their catches and disappearing almost immediately into their burrows.

Guillemots and razorbills 

Guillemots and razorbills 

Razorbills 

Razorbills and puffin

Razorbills 

Razorbill and pigeons
Most of these pigeons look like rock doves put genetically have a lot of feral pigeon about them.

Guillemots and razorbills 

Puffin

The kittiwakes made most of the noise on the cliffs near the visitor centre, calling and squabbling both in flight and on the ground. A few first-Summer birds still had their black W across their shoulders.

Kittiwakes

Fulmars were nesting under the banks of the cliffs, flying in and out almost effortlessly on stiff wings.

Fulmars 

Fulmar 

And then there were the gannets. Hundreds of them. Most were adults, a few three year old birds were flying about by the cliffs, I didn't see any younger birds close in. The clamour, and the smell of fish and seaweed, was inescapable. The birds flew very close by the path as they came back to their nests, us gawping humans of no more consequence to them than a herd of cows.

Gannet

Gannet

Gannets
Third-calendar-year bird above, adult below

Third-calendar-year gannet

Gannet

Gannets

This adult gannet still has some black feathers in the tail and secondaries, my guess (and it is a guess) is that it's a four year old bird.

Gannets

Gannets and guillemots 

Jackdaws, tree sparrows and corn buntings fed on the meadows inland from the cliffs, meadow pipits and skylarks sang overhead, reed buntings sang from the tall grass and the swallows nesting on the visitor centre twittered as they zipped by.

Jackdaw

I considered walking down the path by Wandale Farm but I'd lost an hour in the getting here and I had one eye on the train times for getting home at a reasonable time. I decided I'd best aim for the half three train back, the smell of the gannetry had reminded me there'd be a hungry cat at the other end of the line.

Barn owl

As I was walking back a pale shape rose from the meadows, a barn owl with mouths to feed on a mid-afternoon hunting session. It crossed into the fields beyond and came back again a few times giving wonderful, if distant, views in the process.

I had one last nosy in the trees by the car park before setting off back down Cliff Road. The tree sparrows were busy and a pair of blue tits had an active and very demanding nest on the go.

Cliff Road 

The walk back had a soundtrack of whitethroats, yellowhammers and robins. A couple of roe deers trotted down one of the field margins as I passed. Coming into the village a flock of sand martins twitted as they wheeled about over the houses.

Cliff Road 

I got to the station with ten minutes to spare for the train back to Sheffield just as the threatened rain decided to arrive. A long journey home was made the longer by the train's having to go slow due to a trespass incident at Bridlington which meant I just missed the quick train back to Manchester and had to get the bus home from Manchester. But it had been worth the effort and I felt a lot better for having done it.

Not a bad class of sunset to get home to