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.