Mersey Valley

River Mersey 

It being a Saturday the local train service was umpty so I shelved the day's plans. I'd had a lazy day yesterday doing a few errands for the cat after train cancellations put the mockers on yesterday's plan so I was torn between giving up and drinking too much tea or getting a shift on and having a walk on a nice Autumn day. So I drifted out and ended up walking over to Cob Kiln Wood. Which in hindsight was probably a better idea than chasing round Lancashire trying to find yellow-browed warblers. They're passing through the country in fair numbers but I suspect that if I see any at all this year it'll be by not looking for them. Which is precisely how I've found every other one I've ever seen.

Cob Kiln Wood, crossing Old Eeas Brook 

It's been a tad wet lately and I wondered about the wisdom of the walk as I walked across the little bridge over a very swollen Old Eeas Brook. As it happens the paths were negotiable though here and there a bit of care was necessary to squelch around some deep patches of mud. I decided not to walk across the pylon clearing today, the exit at the top of the steps was a quagmire even before a week of torrential rain.

Cob Kiln Wood 

The mixed tit flocks quietly went about their business, except when one family of long-tailed tits came over to tut at me before bouncing into the willow scrub to join the blue tits and goldcrests. Robins and wrens sang, bullfinches wheezed, a chaffinch pinked from the top of an ash tree and in the background jackdaws and parakeets called overhead as they headed for early roosts. Each time I walked by a gap in the hedgerows there'd be a confusion of noise as woodpigeons clattered from the trees, there were hundreds of them and all of them very skittish.

Cob Kiln Lane 

River Mersey, looking downstream from the bridge over the weir

The intention was to walk straight down Cob Kiln Lane into Urmston so of course I walked down the other way to have a look at the river. It was in full spate and any salmon we might have had swimming upstream wouldn't have needed to bother using the ladder to swim up the weir.

Banky Lane 

And so I drifted onto Banky Lane where the family of long-tailed tits in the hedgerow by the Carrington Spur Road seemed to be on their own. More robins and wrens sang, a blackbird and a song thrush flew by, dunnocks called in the brambles and woodpigeons clattered about in the trees. I could hear but not see the jackdaws and parakeets in the trees over by the river. I looked at the state of the lane and decided to follow the branch running parallel to the road, the branch looping round through Banky Meadow would have been a sea of mud.

Banky Lane 

I kicked as much mud off my boots as possible as I climbed the steps to the bridge over the road and called it quits. I'd had a pleasant short walk, the woodland birds had been obliging and a bit of sunshine was welcome. I could have done without the mosquito bites though.