Wirral

Redshanks, Hoylake 

It was another grey and murky and relatively mild day so I headed for the seaside. This time, I thought, I'll start at Hoylake and walk round to West Kirby and see what's on the Dee Estuary.

Along the way I saw a report of a barred warbler trapped and ringed in Hoylake. The finder and ringer was happy for people to visit their garden in the hopes of finding it. Barred warbler would be a lifer for me, the garden was literally on the sea front, off I went. 

I got off the train at Hoylake and walked down the parade looking for the garden in question. "Just walk through the tatty curtains," had been the instruction but I couldn't see them. Some of the gardens have their entrances on Marine Road so I retraced my steps and walked down. There was no sign of any curtains but there was a garden festooned with mist nets. I made a mental note of its position and walked round the block. And there were the curtains, I just hadn't walked down far enough first time.

The garden was a surprise. The lady who lives there is a dedicated bird ringer and has turned the small garden into a passage migrant magnet with willows and sea buckthorn to provide the "come hither" signals and a dense understory of brambles and shrubs for cover. And evidently it works: in the hour I was there she was in and out of the garden releasing goldfinches that had been trapped earlier and either ringed or recovered, including a six-year-old bird that she hadn't seen since she first ringed it as a youngster. Six years is very good going for a wild small bird. It was also interesting to see the difference in the tail feathers between the first-Winter birds (pointed ends to the juvenile tail feathers) and adults (rounded ends); it's one thing seeing it in photos, it's another seeing it on the bird in the hand.

The barred warbler had been released back into the garden a couple of hours earlier. When I arrived there was a small knot of birdwatchers standing on the patio scanning the bushes at the end of the garden. None had had any joy yet and once I saw how quickly a newly-arrived chiffchaff disappeared I wasn't surprised. We were seeing goldfinches, greenfinches, a robin and chiffchaffs coming in and out of the garden so there was hope yet. First-Winter barred warblers aren't very showy so I'd expected it would be a wait and see operation.

After an hour my knees demanded some movement. I apologised to the others for jinxing them and wished them luck. (In the event the warbler didn't reappear until a couple of hours later when it flew back into the mist net.)

I passed through the veil back onto the parade and had one last look at the trees from this side, just in case. One of the chiffchaffs razzed me. I decided to go on my walk.

Shelducks, Hoylake 

It was low tide, the shelducks, dunlins and redshanks being distant dots on the mud and the cormorants a line of black on the tideline. The waders have been getting progressively more distant in the decades I've been coming here as there's land creation going on, the sand piling up at high tide being colonised by sea grasses and samphire in the nineties now has thick patches of grass and sea asters. It took me a while to find the ringed plovers amongst one of the flocks of dunlins scurrying about just beyond the high tide line, the mixture of black dots a couple of hundred yards yonder were unidentifiable. Closer by there were pigeons, linnets and carrion crows rummaging about in the grass.

Hoylake from Red Rocks 

On the way to Red Rocks the salt marsh gave way to muddy sands and the waders got close enough for all to be identifiable and a few redshanks fed on nearby pools. A passing raven paused long enough to pull a rolling dive under a black-headed gull, completely spilling the air from under the gull's wings, then flying off cronking gleefully. Ravens have a robust sense of humour.

Red Rocks and the Dee Estuary 

Hilbre

For some reason it was a bright, sunny day for them as were in the middle of the Dee; either side of the river it was heavily overcast. From Red Rocks I could see a couple of brent geese swimming in the mouth of the Dee. There were more of them grazing on the sea grass over near Hilbre. A pheasant sitting on the sea wall was unexpected. Lines of oystercatchers and cormorants ran parallel to the river and flocks of redshanks and dunlins skittered about the distant sand.

Red Rocks
This is the path.

I decided to keep to the low ground in the walk through Red Rocks nature reserve; the knees had grumbled a lot when I was rock hopping around the corner at Red Rocks. A water rail called from the reed bed, little egrets and flocks of starlings fossicked about on the marsh and pied wagtails chased each other all round the shop. I'd kept hearing fieldfares but not be able to see any of them, I could see them flying over in groups of five or six now I was on the estuary. I was nearly at West Kirby when I bumped into the first meadow pipits of the day as they flew to and from between the salt marsh and the golf course. As I was watching them a couple of stonechats came over to check me out and see me away.

Dee Estuary looking over to Wales

Out on the estuary the waders were fidgeting their way upstream as the tide started to turn. Suddenly a huge flock of redshanks and knots erupted and rushed inland. For once I spotted the hunting merlin as it rose and dived in and out of the cloud of waders though I didn't see it catch anything.

Turnstones, redshanks and black-headed gulls, West Kirby 

West Kirby marine lake was busy with windsurfers. And turnstones.

Pigeon and turnstones, West Kirby 

Turnstone, West Kirby

Redshank, West Kirby 

Turnstones and redshanks, West Kirby 

My knees told me it was time to call it quits. I got the trains back to Urmston and walked home in the dark. I'd dipped on a barred warbler I wasn't expecting to see anyway and had an interesting day out.

West Kirby marine lake