Rishton

Wryneck

That wryneck at Rishton Reservoir was nagging at me. It had been reported a few times yesterday and again first thing this morning so I got myself an old man's explorer ticket and headed to Rishton.

I got the Blackpool train to Salford Crescent and changed there for the Clitheroe train to Blackburn. Approaching Salford Crescent the train flushed a wheatear from the trackside, which I took as a good omen. Ditto the jay fussing about in the trees at the station. Google Maps suggested I walk down to Blackburn Bus Station for the bus to Rishton War Memorial but I waited the seven minutes for the Colne train instead and walked down. We got there about the same time.

It was a bright, sunny and crisp Autumn lunchtime. Instead of going through Cutwood Park I walked down Cut Lane to get to the Northern shore of the reservoir. A steady trickle of smiling birdwatchers coming back confirmed I was on the right track. 

By Rishton Reservoir 

There were lots of robins, jackdaws and woodpigeons about. I was keeping an eye on the fields and hedgerows for any passage migrants. A movement in a willow bush caught my eye. There was a male blackbird in there and a robin was rummaging about. Then a bird hopped onto a branch at the front, dived down and got something off the floor, returned to the branch and then disappeared into cover. All in a flash. Luckily I'd seen enough of a sandy brown body and red tail to identify it as a female redstart, an addition to the year list I'd pretty much written off. I mentioned it to a chap who was coming along but he could only find the blackbird and robin. I couldn't blame him if he decided I imagined the redstart, I'd be tempted myself in his shoes.

Rishton Reservoir
A bit different to the other day.

Arriving at the reservoir there were the black-headed gulls, little egrets, Canada geese and herring gulls I saw the other day. I didn't see any hirundines about, the cool morning not having woken up the midges. One of the birdwatchers on his way back had noticed a rather dainty gull amongst the black-headed gulls on the far side, stopped to check it out and found himself a little gull. He let me have a nosy at it, yes sure enough there was a two-thirds sized "black-headed gull" standing a lot lower than its companions. It didn't turn its head so I couldn't see its beak but there was more black about its wings than I'd expect from a small black-headed gull (and it would have been an exceptionally small black-headed gull). It occurred to me how rarely I've seen little gulls on the ground. 

Dunlin and ringed plovers

There was a knot of birdwatchers at the end of the path and they were all looking in different directions which didn't bode well. The wryneck had been showing well but had gone into hiding and nobody was picking it up. I've heard that song so often over the years I can sing it in the bath. I spent an hour and a half scanning round that stretch of reservoir bank. A common tern flew in and did ten minutes' fishing before moving on. A pair of mute swans flew in and settled down amongst the geese and cormorants. A few mallards fussed about and upset one of the egrets. A mixed flock of dunlins and ringed plovers flew in and fossicked round the mud with a couple of pied wagtails. As well as being nice birds in their own right I was grateful to them for providing a sense of scale, when you've been staring at bankside rubble through binoculars for half an hour you start to lose it. A stoat provided a nice diversion as he scampered round the bank, stopping once in a while to try and work out what we were about.

Stoat

Eventually there was just a handful of us left. It was while the stoat was regaling us for the third time that something moved in the corner of my eye. A bird not very much bigger than a sparrow flew out of the sedges a hundred yards away. I don't know how or why I knew it but I immediately called: "wryneck!" I just knew. It was cool pale brown above and white below and sort of angular and didn't fly like anything I know, fluttering with its tail wide open before disappearing back in the sedges. Luckily somebody else saw it too.

Then we all saw it. It flew directly out of the sedges and perched in plain sight on a rock by the reservoir wall. The direct flight reminded me somewhat of a wheatear though this was a very different bird. And a very bonny one indeed. The upperparts were shades of grey and brown with thicker dark brown stripes as the eye stripe stretched down the side of the neck and almost met the dark edge of the wing. It reminded me very much of the bark of birches and red alders. The undersides looked white but were finely barred in pale greys and browns. I was very happy to finally get to see one, it was worth the wait.

Wryneck

Wryneck
Like it says on the tin.

Wryneck

Wryneck

Wryneck

Wryneck
Again showing us why the name.

I walked back to the station, having to climb a couple of gates along the way, and sat down to transcribe the records from my notebook. Much to my surprise I found my hand was shaking. I can't remember ever investing that much nervous energy into a twitch before.

The Preston train arrived and I got on. I had a look at the logistics of getting to Fairhaven Lake where a few black terns were having a frolic. Did I really want to be riding the little train to Blackpool Pleasure Beach on a sunny Friday afternoon? My train arrived at Preston less than five minutes after the Blackpool South train left and I'd have the best part of an hour hanging round for the next so I decided against. If it had been twenty minutes I'd have chanced it.

The train from Colne becomes the train to Ormskirk so I stayed on and had a pleasant hour counting the jackdaws and woodpigeons along the way. There were lots of butterflies about — all either large whites or red admirals — and a common darter zipped by as we slowed down into Rufford Station. I got off at Burscough Junction and had a walk over to Burscough Bridge for the train home just because I could. It had been that sort of day.

The year list now stands at 199 and my British List 306.