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