Lazy Tuesday

The back garden 

For the first morning in ages there wasn't three dozen lesser black-backs on the school playing field. It was so warm the school had the kids out there doing Games rather than festering in the classrooms. Which is how things should be, much as I hated Games at school.

I had an unexpected free morning so I thought I'd get a shop in, finding along the way that our local bus to Urmston seems to have been chopped. Or so it seemed after I stood like piffy at the stop then checked the Bee Network website to see if it had been delayed only to find the service couldn't be found. That turns out to have been a technical hitch, it reappeared after I contacted them. Unlike the bus. By the time I got home I was hot and tired and didn't feel like doing much this afternoon. This was OK as I had a plan for a twilight walk that might be productive. After looking at last night's cancellations and then today's I decided against. There are times of the day when you don't fly without a safety net.

The blackcap seems to have settled in the sycamores and didn't shut up all day after kicking off at half six in the morning. The blackbird at least clocks off for a siesta. The wren was singing as normal all morning but this afternoon he's been dodging round the garden in a very agitated manner, ticking at anything and everything including a few falling rose petals. He might as well put up a poster telling everyone the kids are on their first walkabout. It was nice to see and hear his partner, I hardly ever see her in Summer.

So it's a mellow evening with the blackbird and the blackcap singing in the back garden, the wren calming down a bit for a rummage round in the blackcurrants and a couple of swifts scything their way through an overcast sky. There are worse things in this life.

Hindley

Mute swan and mallard, Low Hall

A proper warm Summer's day had the first singing blackcap visit the garden for about six weeks. Unless it's been there all the time and hiding its bushel the same way the robins have been lately.

The arrival of a bumper bundle of travel vouchers for delayed and cancelled train journeys persuaded me that I didn't want to start the week subject to our rail services. Especially considering how many claims I've got to get round to submitting. And I'm still seething that my claim for the fiasco of a trip home from Millom was turned down because Northern reckons there ain't any such journey. So I decided against a trip out by train.

I went over to the Trafford Centre, got the 132 Wigan bus and got off at Hindley near Liverpool Road then walked down to Low Hall. Although the clouds made the day a lot muggy there was enough of a breeze for it to be okay walking weather. Blackcaps, blackbirds, chiffchaffs and a coal tit sang in the trees on my way down to the car park entrance.

Low Hall 

Walking into Low Hall the trees were busy with singing blackcaps, chiffchaffs, chaffinches and a song thrush. I wandered over to the pond where the pair of mute swans were cruising about with a dozen mallards and a pair of tufted ducks. Common blue damselflies and broad-bodied chasers zipped about low over the water and the tops of the waterside vegetation. A lot of the damselflies were busy making baby damselflies, out in the open and everything they have no shame. Reed buntings, a reed warbler and a Cetti's warbler sang in the reeds and a couple of willow warblers sang in the scrubby woodland across the way 

Common blue damselflies, Low Hall
The pieces of jewellery are willow seeds.

Round the corner there's a new screen overlooking the other side of the pond, or it would if the reeds hadn't grown so thickly. There was enough of a view of the water to see the mute swans and mallards and check for anything lurking by the bank over that side. I could hear willow tits but it took a few minutes to see where the noise was coming from. A pair of them were escorting half a dozen youngsters from the willow scrub over to the right to the waterside trees and reeds on the left. And they all had a genius for immediately getting under cover the moment they arrived in a bush or tree. It was lovely to see them even if they weren't for hanging round.

The best photo I got of the willow tits

Wandering back round towards the car park I saw the arrival of a common tern come to fish the pond. I watched it awhile, it wasn't remotely bothered by my being there, even plunge-diving about ten feet away from me at one point. The willow tits arrived and passed by in front of me while I was watching the tern. There was a lot of tutting from the parents as they passed and once everyone was safely in the bushes the male came over to sing at me to put me in my place. I can't remember hearing a willow tit singing before, it's quite a sad little refrain.

Common tern, Low Hall 

Amberswood Lake 

I walked back, crossed the road and walked into Amberswood near the lake. Chiffchaffs, willow warblers and blackcaps sang in the trees. Over on the lake the mute swans had cygnets, the mallards had ducklings and the coots had near full-sized youngsters but I couldn't see any sign of any humbugs with the pair of great crested grebes. There seemed to be a lot of reed buntings about, a few of them singing in the reeds with the reed warblers and Cetti's.

Speckled wood, Amberswood 

The warmth had brought out the butterflies. I'd seen a couple of large whites along the way, the grass verges to the paths here were busy with ringlets, none of them stopping still for a moment let alone long enough for a photograph. A large skipper passed low through the dandelions peppering one stretch of verge. A few speckled woods skittered about under the alders along the rides.

Reed bunting, Amberswood 

Walking along there were lots of small birds about but nearly all of them well undercover. I'd see a shape dart between bushes or a few leaves bouncing the wrong way to be the wind. Consequently most of the afternoon's birdwatching was done by sound and I'll have missed a lot that was quietly going about its business. A reed bunting was an exception, hopping about on the path just ahead of me for about a hundred yards before finally realising it could hop into a tree, let me pass then drop down to the path. I'd suggested this fifty yards earlier. I'm still surprised how often the conceit where I pretend not to have seen a bird and the bird pretends it's not seen me works in situations like this. Apparently not with reed buntings, though. A few swifts hawked over the treetops, a couple of swallows passed by and a handful of house martins circled high over the trees by one of the larger ponds.

Moorhen, Amberswood 

One of the ponds in the woods was fizzing with broad-bodied chasers. Another had two small schools of roaches that I wouldn't have been able to see in the muddy water had they not been catching midges and mosquitos on the surface.

Amberswood 

It had been a pleasant couple of hours' walk, the weather wasn't oppressive and I'd got away without provoking an attack of hay fever. I took the path that gets onto Warrington Road near the cemetery, got the 609 to Leigh and the 126 back to the Trafford Centre and moseyed on down for my tea.

As the 609 passed through Bickershaw I wondered if I should get off for a potter round Bickershaw Country Park. My feet said no. I've rather embedded my footprints into the inner soles of my boots lately. I've bought some gel insoles to reduce the impact on my joints but the only times I remember I need to get them into the boots are times when I really don't want to get too close to them for a while. Now I've written it down I might remember.

Marsh thistle, Amberswood 

A bad June for butterflies

I've been saying it's been a bad June for butterflies. I thought I'd have a look to see if my records confirm that impression. Sadly, yes they do.

Number of species of butterflies recorded
(Brown line = 2024)

I've seen large whites, a couple of speckled woods, a brimstone and a peacock so far this month.

The number of records.
I've barely limped into double figures.

I've hardly ever seen more than one species a day.

It's been those consistent North winds in late May and most of the first half of June that have done the damage.

Cumulative total number of species for the year.

Number of butterfly species recorded each month.

Cumulative number of records for the year

I hope they can bounce back now the weather's starting to turn less chilly.

Leighton Moss

Dunnock, Silverdale Station

A warm day started early with a very high pollen count and the school field was awash with gulls. The rooks are back, one of the signs and portents of Solstice passing, we'll be getting the common gulls soon. I decided that as I'd spent all Spring whinging about dreich weather I wasn't going to moan about coo what a scorcher. I got myself an old man's explorer ticket and headed for Cumbria, the plan was to sit on an air-conditioned train during the midday heat and visit Leighton Moss on the way back when there'd be a few shadows about for respite. The plan was.

There had been the usual quota of corvids, gulls and pigeons on the way up. Little egrets and mallards pottered about the pools by the Eric Morecambe Hide and the Allen pool was wall-to-wall waders and black-headed gulls. Luckily the train was slowing down for Silverdale Station so I noticed that some of the godwits were flapping plain, not black-and-white-banded wings and were bar-tailed godwits. The crowd of smaller waders were unidentifiable from the train. We passed the swifts and swallows of Arnside and the dry salt marshes of Grange-over-Sands. The slightly damper salt marshes of the Leven provided forage for little egrets as well as crows, jackdaws and woodpigeons. Crossing the Leven a raft of fifty-odd eiders bobbed about on the high tide with a herd of a dozen mute swans.

We were running on time which would give more than ten minutes to cross over to the platform for the Carlisle train. Luckily, it was as we left Ulverston that I thought I'd check to see how far up the coast I should go to be sure of an uncomplicated journey back. The Carlisle train had been cancelled since I last checked on it at Lancaster. I got off at Dalton-in-Furness and had seven minutes to wait for the Lancaster train, I'd have been kicking my heels for an hour at Barrow otherwise, debating whether to head North or South as the trains leave within ten minutes of each other and probably playing safe and catching the Manchester Airport train if it wasn't cancelled.

Dalton-in-Furness Station 

Dalton's a pretty station and we were serenaded by blackcaps, blackbirds, chiffchaffs, wrens and collared doves. It's late in the season but there was still a lot of activity in the rookery and the jackdaw colony. It was also rather cooler than expected, the wind having an edge to it.

I got the train back to Silverdale. Crossing back over the Leven the raft of a hundred or more eiders inland of the viaduct seemed to be mostly well-grown ducklings. Cark Station provided one of the two butterflies of the day, a large white fluttering by the platform. It's been a shocking June for butterflies.

Eldeflowers, Leighton Moss

I spent a couple of hours at Leighton Moss. Chiffchaffs and blackcaps sang at Silverdale Station. There were more at Leighton Moss, the blackcaps sticking to the trees by the visitor centre. A Cetti's warbler sang by the visitor centre, I lost count of them along the reedside paths. Willow warblers sang in the trees in the reedbeds.

The feeders by the hideout were busy with chaffinches, great tits, blue tits and bullfinches. A marsh tit barged its way through the crowd a few times to get sunflower seeds to take away and eat in the bushes.

From Lilian's Hide 

Lilian's Hide was noisy with black-headed gulls even though there weren't many about. It looked like the youngsters had moved on. There were plenty of young coots and a few mallards, tufted ducks and a couple of pochards. A pair of great crested grebes over the other side had just the one, small, humbug riding on its mother's back. There were lots of dragonflies zipping about. Of the ones I could identify there were dozens of four-spotted chasers and a handful of emperors.

The path to the reedbeds

Walking through the reedbeds I bumped into a willow warbler that included a few odd "chiff-chaff" phrases into the warm-up for its song. These were quite different to the chiffchaffs singing a few yards behind me, less regular and with a more rounded voice. I managed to record it and uploaded it to Xeno-Canto. Reed warblers and reed buntings sang, appropriately, in the reeds and a sedge warbler sang in the reeds, too, so let that be a warning to you.

Lapwings
Juvenile (left) and adult

Teal, mute swan and cygnets

It was nursery time at the Tim Jackson Hide: mute swans had young cygnets, coots and lapwings had well-grown youngsters, the oystercatcher was still sitting on its nest as its partner dozed by the cygnets with a couple of teal. The usual posse of shovelers were nowhere to be seen, which I hope means they had something to be busy with in the cover of the reeds. A female marsh harrier flew by and disappeared over the trees and out towards the salt marsh. The dragonflies here were all broad-bodied chasers.

Mallard ducklings

Walking round to the Griesdale Hide a party of mallard ducklings dabbled noisily amongst the drowned willows. Common blue damselflies basked on the paths and I spent a while failing to take a photo of an emperor dragonfly patrolling the tops of the reeds. The second and last large white fluttered through the wild currants as I passed by.

Red deer

Griesdale Hide was quiet. A red deer grazed on the opposite bank. The great black-backs have raised two chicks, both are about half-grown. Realistically the only threat to them now, except the weather or starvation, would be other great black-backs.

Great black-back and chicks
The paraphernalia is the video link back to the visitor centre

The clouds had rolled in, which made it feel even cooler, and with them came a swarm of swifts over the reedbeds. Another female marsh harrier flew by, heading for the causeway.

I checked the train times, saw the cancellations, decided to play safe and get the next train to Manchester from Silverdale. I arrived back at Oxford Road with just quarter of an hour to wait for my train home. Which was cancelled.

Leighton Moss 

A walk along the Irwell

Goosander

I woke up from one of those nights where every battle for territorial control of the bed was lost to the cat and found myself facing a bright, sunny day. Half an hour later itchy eyes and ears set me wondering what was going on. I checked the weather forecast to see if I needed to worry about any showers and found the pollen count was Very High, an unwelcome escalation of hostilities. I parked all the plans for today and decided I'd have a late afternoon walk when things might be slightly better.

Across the road, in between sessions where PE teachers exercise their vocal chords, there were a couple of dozen adult lesser black-backs with the usual selection of magpies, woodpigeons and jackdaws. This has been par for the course all week. Lesser black-backs are our default Summer gulls but there's a lot more than usual about this year with dozens of them circling round Trafford Park whenever I've been through.

I noticed reports that the weekend's lesser scaup over at Ringley was still around so, lathered in sun block, a nose full of vaseline and a song in my heart I headed over to the Trafford Centre to get the 22 to Clifton, the plan being to cut through Clifton Country Park, bob over the bridge and have a shufti at the sewage works where it was last reported. Lesser scaup's still a new bird for me so I'm trying to take every opportunity to get my eye on on it.

The 22 is one of our longer local routes. Inevitably we hit the school run. In my experience the school run is one of those things ike half-term holidays, inescapable by the use of simple expedients like clocks or calendars. So it was late afternoon when I arrived at Clifton Cricket Club, crossed Manchester Road and headed down Clifton Hall Road to the country park.

Clifton Country Park 

Blackbirds, blackcaps, song thrushes and wrens provided the major part of the songscape. Here and there a chiffchaff might make itself heard or a goldfinch or a greenfinch. Families of great tits and blue tits stole through bushes like thieves in the night. The lake was littered with Canada geese and black-headed gulls, a few tufted ducks and mallards making up the numbers. A pair of great crested grebes cruised midwater, swallows and house martins hawked overhead.

Great crested grebe, Clifton Country Park 

I headed for the river and bumped into a chap who had also come over to look for the lesser scaup. We compared information: I was going off Birdguides which said Ringley and located the bird in the water treatment works there, his information said Ringley but located the bird a mile or more away in the abandoned water treatment works over the river on the other side of Clifton Country Park by the motorway. We went our different ways, each wishing the other good luck. I was suddenly not sure of seeing the bird at all.

River Irwell 

I wandered over to the river and crossed over to the water treatment works. A few mallards bobbed about on the river, a heron fished in the turbulent waters by the outflow and a couple of grey wagtails fussed about on the shingle banks.

Grey wagtail, Ringley 

The water treatment works have been in a constant state of reconstruction for years so it seemed an unlikely place to see a lesser scaup but I've seen rarities in stranger places so who knows. There were a dozen or so black-headed gulls floating about on the pans and lagoons visible from the road into Ringley but no ducks. There are paths I've not explored here so I had a wander round. The best bet seemed to be the path running from Ringley between Ringley Wood and the water treatment works. I walked the length of the path. Lots of woodland birdsong on one side, empty lagoons and pans on the other. So like as not if a lesser scaup was about it was at the abandoned site.

I walked back over to Clifton Country Park and walked along the path following the river. I reckoned I could walk down to Clifton Aquaduct, cross the river then walk back along the river to the abandoned works to look for the lesser scaup then walk back to the current works and head to either Stoneclough or Clifton for a bus. It's a walk I've done before but not one I've done in Summer and that turned out to make a difference.

Clifton Country Park 

Juvenile blackcap, Clifton Country Park 

All the usual woodland birds were singing in the trees along the path. Every so often I could get a clear view of the river. Hereabouts it runs wide and shallow over and between shelves of New Red Sandstone. A couple of times there was a handful of mallards loafing on a rocky bank or dabbling in the shallows, a few times a black-headed gull or two. I'd gone beyond the park, under the motorway and into Clifton Green before I found any goosanders, a pair of redheads dozing on a rock with a couple of lesser black-backs.

Goosander 

Lesser black-back 

Dodging cyclists on the extremely narrow banktop path next to the big construction works you see from the Bolton to Manchester train I found the path verge was a ribbon of common spotted orchids. It's a very long time since I've seen so many together.

Common spotted orchids 

It was late teatime and by this stage I was flagging badly, wiping my eyes and nose every few minutes. I crossed the aquaduct into Waterdale Meadows and decided I didn't have it in me for the walk back the other way. The best bet was to walk through the meadows into Drinkwater Park and get the 93 from Carr Clough into Manchester.

Waterdale Meadows 

Swifts and swallows hawked overhead and the willow warblers, whitethroats and grey wagtails of the meadows gave way to the blackcaps, chiffchaffs and pied wagtails of Drinkwater Park. 

Drinkwater Park 

I decided on a direct route to the bus stop which would be twenty minutes quicker but involved taking one or other steep path up into the housing estate. I opted for the one to Grundy Avenue, it's as steep as the one to the playground but it doesn't crumble underfoot quite as alarmingly as you climb. Even so, partway up I remembered a rubbishy old Australian drama series called "The Flying Doctors" where a heart attack victim was dangling about six feet from the top of a rocky slope and these two cobbers with more safety gear than fifteen Himalayan climbing teams leaned over and shouted: "It's a dangerously crumbly rock surface, we're going to have to leave you to die here and cut you down later, sorry mate." The twittering of house sparrows in back gardens never sounded so sweet.

There wasn't long to wait for the 93. As every other single time I forgot there's a stop at Kersal Castle, I remembered the 52 to the Trafford Centre stops across the road and is due about ten minutes later and I apologised to the driver for rushing off the bus at the last minute. Every. Single. Time. I really should know by now. I idled the time waiting for the 52 watching a couple of dozen sand martins hawking over the river, a pair of tufted ducks by the bank and the mallards and black-headed loafing on the shingle banks downstream. A lunatic voice in my head told me I could have walked here from Drinkwater Park…

Southport

Juvenile avocets, Marshside

It was another offer of a cool, cloudy day with a high pollen count so I scuttled off to the seaside in the hopes a sea breeze might be a mitigating factor. I got to Marshside just before lunchtime and though there was moisture in the air it kept dry and even became warmer and sunny as the afternoon progressed. 

I'd got the 44 from Southport Station and was soon walking down Marshside Road. The house sparrows and goldfinches were busy in the roadside hedges and house martins hawked low overhead. The marshes were a tale of two halves: boggy and still with large pools on the left, dried out on the right, busy with birds right up to the roadside on the left, distant on the right.

To my right there were grazing woodpigeons, family groups of Canada geese, dozing shelducks and a few little egrets in damp creeks and gullies before the black-headed gull colony at Sandgrounders. Small flocks of starlings flitted about and dozens of swifts swooped and hawked over the marsh.

This black-headed gull decided I was too near its nest and kept mobbing me despite the fact I was walking along the other side of Marshside Road to that part of the marsh.

Over on the other side of the road nesting black-headed gulls vied with redshanks and lapwings for who could make the most noise whenever a large gull passed by. A couple of pairs took exception to my walking by on the other side of the road. Coots had fair-sized juveniles with them, the Canada geese had half-sized goslings, mallards and gadwall had ducklings eager to give their new flight feathers a good wagging. One gadwall had a dozen large ducklings with her, possibly because they didn't all go wandering off in all directions like mallard ducklings do.

Gadwall and ducklings, Marshside

Gadwall ducklings, Marshside

A crowd of mute swans dozed over on the pools by Nels Hide. I could see the pair of black swans but no sign of any cygnets, scarcely surprising as I could only see the tops of the adults' heads in the tall grass.

A crowd of black-tailed godwits, glowing rusty red in the light, loafed and twittered on a grassy bank over by the Junction Pool. Closer to hand the redshanks and lapwings on the marsh were joined by avocets, a few of which seemed to be sitting on nests. A rather magnificent ruff with a combination of a snow white ruff with a bright ginger crown, flew a few yards before disappearing out of sight in the grass.

Black-tailed godwits, black-headed gulls and tufted ducks at the Junction Pool

There was a crowd of black-headed gulls at the Junction Pool with a few pairs of tufted ducks and a few coots and mallards. 

Pyramidal orchid, Marshside

As I walked over to Sandgrounders I kept an ear on the singing skylarks, whitethroats and sedge warblers and an eye on the verges and banks for any signs of bee orchids. I was probably a week late for the flowers but I could see no sign of leaves or stems where I saw them flowering last year, nor where they were the year before. I had the consolation prize of a few clumps of pyramidal orchid. Here and there the verges were pink with restharrow or yellow with mustard and vetchlings. The dewberries have bounced back from last year's strimming and the number of flowers bode well for a good crop of my favourite wild fruit, I can never resist picking one or two when I walk past.

Dewberry, Marshside

The large pool by Sandgrounders was almost wall to wall Canada goose. A few pied wagtails, including a couple of youngsters, flitted by the banks, a couple of coots barged their way by and a cormorant preened on the corner of an island. Even a loafing great black-back looked cowed by the crowd.

Juvenile black-headed gulls, Marshside

There wasn't a crowd at Sandgrounders but there was plenty about. Most of the young black-headed gulls were at the flying stage though with varying degrees of confidence or competence. There was still a handful at that stage of growth and moult where they might be mistaken for some exotic plover flown in unexpected. The large gulls don't seem to go through a stage where they show they're related to waders.

Juvenile black-headed gulls, Marshside

Tufted ducks and a rather stroppy avocet, Marshside

Pairs of tufted ducks and shelducks cruised around, much to the annoyance of the avocets which were ready to take exception to everything and anything. As ducks go tufted ducks are fairly easy going but a couple of times one of the drakes had to snap back to put an avocet back in its box.

Tufted ducks and a rather stroppy avocet, Marshside

Tufted duck and a rather stroppy avocet, Marshside

There was plenty of excuse for the avocets: there were a couple of dozen youngsters about and they were wandering freely as they fed on the pools and creeks. They weren't quite ready for flying but didn't have long to wait by the look of them.

Juvenile avocet, Marshside

Juvenile avocet, Marshside

Juvenile avocets, Marshside

Juvenile avocets, Marshside

Black-headed gulls, Marshside
The crouching posture of the two birds on the left is a threat display.

I hadn't walked thirty yards from Sandgrounders when I found a bee orchid growing on the bank. I was glad to have found one, they are rather lovely.

Bee orchid, Marshside

Bee orchid, Marshside
Same plant, different side.

Juvenile avocets, Marshside

Further along there were more avocets in the creeks and drains of the marsh including a couple of pairs of very young birds closely supervised by their parents. A pair of tufted ducks had a crowd of ducklings, including a couple of mallards that had either been sneaked into the nest as eggs or tagged along for the ride as ducklings. Ducks are given to laying eggs in other ducks' nests, it's a sort of insurance policy.

Lapwing attacking a black-headed gull, Crossens Marsh
I'm surprised I managed to get this much of the fast-moving dogfight in the frame.

The avocets weren't the only anxious parents chasing away intruders. Black-headed gulls harassed large gulls, literally battering them about the head as they flew by, and lapwings harassed any black-headed gulls that flew too close.

Over on the outer marsh there were little egrets, shelducks and avocets on all the pools. Meadow pipits, skylarks, linnets and goldfinches flitted about, a few mipits and skylarks sang. A couple of reed buntings had beaks full of insects as they flew by. By far the most conspicuous birds out there were the swifts, over a hundred of them and all of them flying low over the marsh.

Crossens Inner Marsh

I decided to stay on the inner side of Marine Way. Looking over at Crossens Outer Marsh anything that wasn't little egrets was starling and there weren't any geese in sight. The inner marsh was busier, Canada geese had groups of large fluffy goslings in tow, the non-breeding black-headed gulls and some of the more precocious youngsters loafed on pools, coots and avocets supervised small youngsters and the young lapwings were nearly full-sized.

Thick-legged flower beetle on hawkweed

The wind died down and it became warmer. Whitethroats sang in elderberry bushes, wrens sang in patches of brambles. By the time I got to the water treatment works and its teeming swifts the hayfever was kicking in so I called it quits. I'd spent more than a couple of hours nosying about so I didn't feel too guilty about folding early. It had been a good walk and there was no need to spoil it. I walked into Crossens, got the bus back into Southport and had one of those eventful train journeys that starts with a slight delay while the police detain a suspect then meets a succession of red signals all the way back.