Irlam

Black-headed gulls, Irlam Locks 

It was the last day before the promised storms but I only wanted a bit of a dawdle round somewhere. I couldn't even be bothered playing bus stop bingo and ended up getting the 256 into Flixton and walking down to Irlam Locks. Walking down Irlam Road it felt good to have a reassuringly large flock of three dozen spadgers hoovering up spilled oats by the side of the road. A couple of dozen sand martins twittered from very high overhead, the constant traffic of woodpigeons mostly skimmed the chimney pots. A couple of swallows joined the sand martins wheeling above the stables.

Black-headed gulls, Irlam Locks 

The canal looked quiet at first, just a young heron giving the last rites to an unfortunate frog over on the far bank. Then I looked over to the locks where fifty-odd black-headed gulls were loafing about in the company of a lesser black-back, an adult heron and an oystercatcher. A brown hawker seemed huge as it zipped past my ear and headed downstream.

There weren't many birds on the water treatment works, just a few magpies and a carrion crow. In part the reason might be the six carfuls of teenagers pulled up alongside to play music and gossip. I have to admit that were I a teenager with a car my first port of call wouldn't be a sewage farm but each to their own.

Black-headed gulls, Irlam Locks 

There were forty-odd pigeons on the downstream section of the locks as I passed over, together with three cormorants drying their wings at the end of the lock. For once there were no birds downstream on the canal. I double-checked the black-headed gulls just in case it was my lucky day.

Irlam Locks 

I walked up Cadishead Way and crossed over onto the path to The Boathouse. A few mallards drifted about the relict of the Irwell and pairs of coots and moorhens chugged up and down to no apparent purpose. Very close to the near bank a large red-eared terrapin sunned itself on a log.

By The Boathouse 

Irlam Community Woodland 

As far as birds were concerned Irlam Community Woodland was very, very quiet. For the first couple of hundred yards the birdlife was a chiffchaff that squeaked and flew off and the half a dozen woodpigeons flying overhead. On the other hand it was fizzing with butterflies. Most were large whites, gatekeepers, ringlets or meadow browns with a supporting cast of speckled woods and peacocks and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo by a small skipper as it skipped about a stand of thistles. A couple of brown hawkers zipped by and Southern hawkers patrolled the trees along the rides. A couple of goldfinches twittered past, a lesser black-back headed for the canal. A dark shape soaring very high up turned out to be a cormorant.

Peacock butterfly, Irlam Community Woodland 

I took the path heading towards the tree-lined pool that Google assures me is called The Jezzy's and who am I to argue? It was reassuring to hear a wren sing and the contact calls of blue tits, long-tailed tits and chiffchaffs. The long-tailed tits bouncing about in the trees by the path looked not long out of the nest. Unlike the squirrel eating licorice torpedoes on a tree stump. Peeking out onto the water I could see a few broad-bodied chasers and blue-tailed damselflies fluttering about over the water, there were more unidentifiable objects skittering about in the distance. The only birds were a couple of coots keeping an uncharacteristically low profile. Given the amount of rubbish strewn about the bank I dare say they're wise.

Grey squirrel, Irlam Community Woodland 

I walked into Irlam and got the 100 to the Trafford Centre, passing a great crested grebe on the canal as we passed over the Lift Bridge. I'd a long wait for the bus home so I got the 150 and walked through Lostock Park. The Community Woodland was a hive of activity in comparison: a chiffchaff squeaked, a magpie rattled and six woodpigeons clattered about in the treetops. The sound of Summer.

Barton Clough 

Mersey Valley

Cob Kiln Lane 

Another warm, though very cloudy, day proved to be typically Julyish. To say the small birds of Cob Kiln Wood were keeping a low profile would be to understate. A blackbird sang, a chiffchaff squeaked, there were the furtive chirrups and twitters of house sparrows and goldfinches. A juvenile robin's call to its parents from deep in some hawthorn bushes was answered by a very curt reply from further down the hedgerow. It came as a relief to pass a field of horses and see woodpigeons, magpies and stock doves.

Cob Kiln Wood 

The woodland had been lively with speckled woods so it came as a surprise to find not many butterflies in the pylon clearing. For a while I had to make do with just the one red admiral that was flitting about the brambles. Which was better doing than the birdwatching. Eventually things picked up: a couple of lesser black-backs flew over, as did a few woodpigeons, if I looked hard enough I could just see a few swifts flying very high overhead, and half a dozen gatekeepers fluttered about in the nettles at the far end of the clearing.

Cob Kiln Wood 

Even the pigeons were missing from the bridge over the Mersey. I stood at the middle of the bridge and watched the banded demoiselles fluttering about the banksides for a minute or two before I crossed onto Banky Lane.

Banky Meadow 

A wren added to the afternoon tally by telling me to move along son and a moorhen called briefly from somewhere in the muddy willows. Even the speckled woods were getting few and far between. I'd gone a way down the path before I started hearing a buzzard in the trees. And a bit further before I heard the answering call. Eventually I found the first bird, an indistinct dark shape about halfway up a sycamore tree and keeping well into leaf cover. I was having as much luck with buzzards as owls this week. I've pretty much given up on the Merlin app again but I thought I'd try and restore my faith in it by having it confirm that the big noisy shape in the trees loudly calling to its parents was a buzzard. Merlin offered no suggestions although I thought of one or two. Good job we have enough buzzards round here to get to know what they sound like.

Banky Meadow 

I completed the circuit and headed off to Ashton on Mersey for the bus having added the ring-necked parakeet chunnering to itself high in an oak tree to the tally and having been closely eyeballed by a common darter in the car park. It's sort of nice to have things get back to normal for a bit.

Martin Mere

Tawny owlet

It was a bright, sunny day and I was due a visit to Martin Mere. I set off early and got the train to Burscough Bridge, the idea being to take the direct route to Martin Mere before the sun got too warm, be in the cover of hides for the noonday sun, have a look round the reedbed hides then head back for the train with the sun on my back or as close as I can hope for.

By Red Cat Lane

It was a dead clear sky as I set off down Red Cat Lane for Martin Mere. There were plenty of woodpigeons about though they were mostly hidden in the depths of the fields of barley and potatoes. The small birds were exceptionally coy. Overhead swarms of house martins and swallows hawked for insects, the swallows sweeping down and skimming the tops of the barley. Peacocks and red admirals skittered along the verges, large whites fluttered amongst the potatoes looking for stray relicts of the oilseed rape crop that proceeded them, and speckled woods chased each other about the hedgerows.

Hay bales, Red Cat Lane 

I'd been wondering where all the rooks and jackdaws had got to. They were all in the paddocks by Crabtree Lane with a lot of woodpigeons or else rummaging about in the margins of the newly cut hay meadow by the road. A few house sparrows had been chirping in the hedgerows, a couple of tree sparrows chirped from the telegraph poles by Curlew Lane. For the life of me I couldn't see the yellow wagtails calling from the field of broad beans by Tarlscough Hall Farm. I had no more luck finding the corn buntings I could hear near the corner of Marsh Moss Road.

Heron

It was decidedly warm by the time I arrived at Martin Mere so I immediately headed for the cover of the Discovery Hide, a refreshing breeze flowing through the windows. The mere was by its lights quiet, which is to say that there were a hundred or more lapwings, a couple of dozen greylags, similar of mallards and fewer black-headed gulls. Moorhens and their young fussed about the margins, most having chicks and full-grown juveniles in tow. The only shelduck was a bad-tempered individual that swam round picking fights with mallards. A common sandpiper bobbed about the edge of one of the islands that had until recently been heaving with black-headed gulls. A heron loafing by the hide kept a watch on everything.

The Mere

Lapwings, black-headed gulls and greylags

Lapwings, black-headed gulls and greylags

I was hoping to add green sandpiper to the year list so I bobbed into the Raines Observatory to see if any were on the banks of the mere at this side. Sure enough, there was one in the middle of a group of lapwings loafing and fussing on one of the islands.

Tawny owlet

Walking along towards what used to be called the Kingfisher Hide I bumped into a lady who was sticking a notice in the ground by a tree. "The owlet's up this tree. It had been showing really well on that pine tree over there but it's up in the canopy here." Even with her directions it took me a few minutes to find the tawny owlet sitting up near the top of the tree trunk. Once I had it in my binoculars I found I could see it by eye. Then I took a step to one side to let someone pass and completely lost it again. I have a lousy eye for owls.

From the Kingfisher Hide as was

Chiffchaffs squeaked in the trees and a coal tit, of all things, sang. There wasn't much about at the Kingfisher Hide as was but the landscape looked green and lush. As I walked down the steps from the hide a blackcap sang from an elderberry bush, the first I've heard for a couple of weeks.

From the Ron Barker Hide

The water was low at the Ron Barker Hide which suited a dozen black-tailed godwits feeding in the shallows and a couple of little ringed plovers and some pied wagtails mudlarking at the sides. Coots and mallards bathed in the drain and a few greylags grazed and muttered on the bank. Swallows whizzed by and unidentifiable dragonflies zipped about the vegetation on the banks.

I had another look for the owlet on the way back and apologised to a couple for putting a jinx in their efforts.

Black-headed gulls and lapwings

I don't often bother with lunch but I thought it prudent to get a sausage toastie and a pot of tea before heading over for the reedbed walk. Suitably refreshed I wandered off. I had a quick nosy over the mere from one of the screens. The lapwings and black-headed gulls were being fairly noisy for no apparent reason and a cattle egret flew in and joined the greylags in one of the islands.

Lapwing, greylags and cattle egret

A quick look at the feeders by the Janet Kear Hide found me a lot of juvenile blue tits and a commendably acrobatic rat. I quite like rats in the singular but have the usual human reaction when I see a crowd of them.

The Gladstone Hide and the United Utilities Hide are closed for maintenance and there was hay-cutting in the meadow by the latter.

Reedbed walk 

It was hot out in the open on the reedbed walk and I was glad I hadn't opted to do the long walk in from New Lane. A kestrel hovered over the reeds near the Harrier Hide. Black-headed gulls passed noisily to and fro. Gatekeepers and red admirals fluttered about the path sides and brown hawkers patrolled at nose height, which is disconcerting when they stop dead in front of you and give you the eyeball.

From the Rees Hide 

There were two more green sandpipers at the Rees Hide. I was lucky to spot them as they were standing up looking to see what the lapwings were fussing about, once they sat back down all I could see in the grass was the white of their rumps. The lapwings were fussing about the tractor cutting hay in the field near the pool. Every time it got to this side of the field they took off in a panic.

From the Gordon Taylor Hide

Lapwings and black-headed gull

There was a better view of the lapwings from the Gordon Taylor Hide. In amongst them were half a dozen ruffs including one with a bright white head. Teal, gadwalls and mallards drifted about, greylags and Canada geese loafed on the far banks and dabchicks had a wash and brush-up in the shade of some willow bushes. A cattle egret flew in, did a circle of the pool and joined two others I hadn't noticed in the long grass with the geese. There were a lot of dragonflies zipping around. A few came close enough to be identifiable as broad-bodied chasers but I'm not convinced they all were.

Ruffs and lapwings

Black-headed gulls and teal

Lapwings and black-headed gulls

Lapwings

One of the times the lapwings had a panic about the tractor they also brought up a very young-looking common tern which screeched its way over to the pools by the Harrier Hide.

Lapwings

Ruffs and lapwings

Black-headed gulls and lapwings

I wandered back, the reedbed walk feeling hot and dusty. It was odd that except for the kestrel I'd seen no raptors. A family of long-tailed tits bounced through the willows by the United Utilities Hide.

Along Red Cat Lane

I walked back down to Burscough Bridge, lingering in the shade of trees whenever the opportunity arose, there was a fair breeze but I only properly felt it in the shade. The house martins and swallows were busy overhead; woodpigeons, rooks, carrion crows and jackdaws in the fields. A couple of pairs of stock doves flew by in close formation. The family of goldfinches by Brandeth Barn were mostly scruffy and downy youngsters. A buzzard soaring over Swallow House Farm was mobbed by martins.

The trains behaved themselves and I walked down to Chepstow Street to get the bus home. I was idly watching the usual crowd of lesser black-backs on the rooftops when I noticed one of them had a lead grey back and wings and rather a lot of black to the tips of its wings. A bonus yellow-legged gull for the day.

Chat Moss

Common darter

The puzzle for the morning was whether the influx of new titmice in the back garden means that there have been more pairs about than I'd appreciated or that the pairs I know about have been keeping a very low profile raising second broods. I'm inclined to the latter, I've not seen that many adults. It would also explain why the hen blue tit has been looking so frazzled. A pair of adult blue tits were in the roses first thing this morning. Later on I assumed the youngsters that have been kicking about all month were at the feeders, then I had a closer look. Two of them were bright yellow and fluffy, had relatively short wings and tails, and had bright yellow gapes. The three of them were to-ing and fro-ing between the feeders and the roses. I noticed a couple more birds lurking in there. Bright yellow baby great tits fresh from the nest. One of the adults turned up shortly after to collect them up and they flew into the ivy on the embankment.

I decided on a late afternoon wander on Chat Moss, aiming at that window where the biting insects have a bit of a rest, the butterflies and dragonflies are active and the birds are starting to wake from their siestas. I got the 100 to Cutnook Lane, bumping into the first red admirals and common darters as I walked up to the motorway bridge.

Cutnook Lane 

The walk down Cutnook Lane was very quiet. Woodpigeons clattered about and magpies and nigh on all carrion crows rummaged about in the fields and the small birds were just furtive rustlings in deep cover. A couple of goldfinches twittered overhead, a wren was tetchy as I walked past the fishery and there was the squeak of chiffchaffs near the junction with Twelve Yards Road.

Chat Moss 

I crossed over and headed North along the tree-lined path. Half a dozen mallards flew over and disappeared into the pools behind the birch scrub, joining an invisible oystercatcher. The squeak of chiffchaffs gave way to the squeak of willow warblers. I can tell the difference but cannot for the life of me describe it adequately. Mind you, if you played me a recording of one or other any time between October and May I'd be guessing on that identification.

Croxden's Moss 

I walked out onto the open peat where a distant buzzard was quartering Croxden's Moss as the North Wales train passed by.

Female blue-tailed damselfly on willowherb 
There are a bewildering number of colour forms of female blue-tailed damselflies so I don't feel so bad about being baffled by them.

Male blue-tailed damselfy

Common darter

I walked back and took the rough track westwards. There was a profusion of dragonflies and butterflies. The common darters were mostly easy enough to identify, there must have been a recent emergence as nearly all the males were shades of olive yellow and orange going rusty at the edges. The only black darters I could be sure of were females and it took me a while to remember to look at the dark spots on the wing as the first clue. The damselflies were few and far between, a few common blue damselflies on the nettles and blue-tailed damselflies haunting stands of willowherb. It felt properly July for the first time this year: the birds frustratingly coy, butterflies and dragonflies aplenty and the mingled perfumes of thistles and Himalayan balsam with the occasional overtone of honeysuckle. That latter is the smell of high Summer for me.

Himalayan balsam

Red admiral on ragwort

Most of the butterflies were red admirals, peacocks and meadow browns, a few gatekeepers and small tortoiseshells haunted the wider rides and there were cameos by commas and speckled woods.

Comma

At first glance the pools North of the path were deserted. First glance was dead wrong. A couple of dozen lapwings loafed and preened, families of teal dabbled and moorhen chicks bothered their parents. Shifting round a bit I could see a little egret stalking one of the peat ridges and pied wagtails flitting between islands. 

Lapwings
(I don't think I'll ever get a good picture of the birds on this pool, the light is either too dim or too bright and always coming from the wrong direction.)

I picked my way back to the path and carried on, stopping every other step to see what was about in the bits of pool I could see through the trees. This is where the binoculars score over eyesight: you can blur out the foreground quite ruthlessly with binoculars, the eye will always try to keep everything in focus. Three more little egrets lurked on one of the islands and studiously ignored a heron working the bank. There were more teal and lapwings and a couple of dabchicks caught tiddlers by the near bank. I was hoping to add green sandpiper to the year list but all the waders were lapwings which is no bad thing in itself.

Heron and little egrets
One of the better views of the pools.

A family of long-tailed tits tiptoed past me as a song thrush started singing in the trees on the far side of the pools. The path reached the corner of a field of barley where a female kestrel hovered not much above head height and swallows skimmed the tops of the barley. Woodpigeons and stock doves passed to and fro overhead, whitethroats croaked their displeasure as I passed their thistle-filled ditches, Southern hawkers patrolled the willows in the field margins.

Southern hawker

Chat Moss

I turned onto the path leading back to Twelve Yards Road, waiting for a pair of collared doves and a family of pheasants to decide what they were doing. The doves flew into a tree and watched me pass by. The pheasants ran a few yards ahead, waited for me to catch up then ran a few yards and repeat. The youngsters were just old enough to be able to fly ten yards ahead every so often. It took ages to walk that short length of path.

Chat Moss

The walk had done my back a lot of good and I was walking a lot easier. I was tempted to turn right and head for Little Woolden Moss but decided to turn left and walk down Twelve Yards Road and back onto Cutnook Lane. A male kestrel swooped and pounced into a field of rough but flew away empty-handed. Southern hawkers patrolled the tops of the hedgerows, peacocks and red admirals fluttered about the roadside, collared doves and woodpigeons sang in treetops and on telephone lines. Small birds rummaged about anonymously in the field margins and I resisted the urge to try and get a photo of swallows hawking low over the road and the fields (it always ends in failure).

Chat Moss 

Cutnook Lane 

As I walked down Cutnook Lane I started to feel the ache in my back and it felt like a good call to not take a further diversion. The willow warblers squeaking in the fields of willow saplings gave way to the chiffchaffs squeaking in the trees of Cutnook Lane. More woodpigeons, magpies and crows and a run to catch the 100 as it pulled into the bus stop which seems to have been exactly what the back needed for a proper recovery. A testament to the therapeutic effects of going out for a birdwatching walk.