Wirral

Redshank, Meols

Most times I'm walking the North Wirral coast I'm looking for waders and seabirds but this time of year, and today, I'm pinning my hopes on passage migrants.

I got the trains to Moreton and walked down to Kerr's Field. It was another almost cloudless late morning with a bit of a light breeze, very nice walking weather. A few herring gulls and lesser black-backs drifted overhead, a few more were paired up on the rooftops of the industrial estate, robins and goldfinches sang in roadside trees.

Goldfinch, Kerr's Field 

The hedgerows down to Kerr's Field were busy with spadgers and blackbirds, robins, blackcaps and chiffchaffs sang in the trees and goldfinches twittered about. Pairs of moorhens and mallards pootled about in the Birkett and greenfinches trilled and twittered in the paddocks beyond. Kerr's Field itself was quite dry, the pools that hosted teals and shovelers just cracked mud. There wasn't anything that wasn't black and white or grey — magpies, woodpigeons, oystercatchers and a pied wagtail. I'd hoped for a wheatear and got none. But there was plenty of birdlife around so there was reason to be optimistic.

By Kerr's Field 

There were a lot of house sparrows, goldfinches and greenfinches in the hedgerows behind the lighthouse, all of them busy, some of them singing, all contriving to be undercover or in silhouette against messy backgrounds whenever the camera came out of the bag. Dunnocks fussed about, woodpigeons and collared doves bashed about and sang from hawthorn bushes, the air was thick with the honey-laden scent of alexanders flowers.

Alexanders

I walked down Lingham Road as far as the bridge, scanning the hedgerows and fields along the way. More sparrows and goldfinches, more woodpigeons, magpies and blackbirds, some blue tits and great tits, a couple of blackcaps, a pair of long-tailed tits, then three swallows twittered past low overhead and I could breathe again, the jinx was broken and I could enjoy seeing these crowds of birds. I was quite cross with myself that I hadn't been enjoying them in the first place.

I bumped into a chap who said there were some yellow wagtails and a Channel wagtail (blue-headed x yellow wagtail, flava x flavissima if you prefer) in the coastal paddocks, I thanked him kindly. I had planned on going that way anyway and this news clinched it. 

The pond on Leasowe Common 

I walked back and took the path at the edge of Leasowe Common, threading its way through the trees beside the paddocks. Blackcaps sang from the depths of bushes, speckled woods chased each other round the nettles, chiffchaffs and great tits ignored me completely as they sang from twigs by the path. I got to the pond and for once saw the dabchick before it saw me, at which point it dived and a line of bubbles disappeared into the reeds.

Wheatear

I passed through the gate and onto the path that feels like it's running inland beside the paddocks (it actually runs parallel to the coastal path, the boundary between the paddocks and the common takes a sharp turn North here). This time last year this path was a tad muddy, today it was rock hard baked dry. A few woodpigeons rummaged about in a couple of unoccupied paddocks, a wheatear had the third to itself. There was a small group of birdwatchers at the corner of the fourth.

"You'll need to bend your knees to see them," I was told, "They're fussing about the hooves of the fawn horse behind the fence and they're mostly hidden behind that top bar " I bent my knees and spotted a distant but stonkingly bright yellow male yellow wagtail glowing in the sunlight. Briefly. Then a female, even more briefly. They weren't being helpful and kept disappearing behind horses' hooves, behind the fence or in and out between the fenceposts at the side. In the end I had the male and a female yellow wagtail a few times each but hadn't seen the Channel wagtail until it walked out behind a fence post in the company of a pied wagtail. My knees asked if I could stand up again, I did and couldn't see any wagtails at all.

I wandered back, clocking a buzzard soaring over the railway line and a male sparrowhawk display-soaring over the lighthouse. Back on the common I headed up the bank and onto the revetment.

Little egret

It looked like low tide but actually was still on the ebb. There weren't the huge crowds of gulls and waders on the great expanse of wet sand and mud that there had been a month ago. There were groups of  handfuls of herring gulls and lesser black-backs scattered about, there was a handful of black-headed gulls all told. A couple of little egrets shrimped in pools, a few dozen redshanks fossicked about or bathed in groups, a lone turnstone sat on the groyne.

Redshanks drying off after a bath

Lesser black-back
This time of year the yellow on the bare parts of adults is intense.

Little egret

Meols from the groyne
From here it looks like the small boats are at harbour instead of scattered across the foreshore.

The groyne 

Things weren't a lot busier on the other side of the groyne. A pair of shelducks dozed in mid-distance. Half a dozen knots were chased off the beach by a spaniel. A black-tailed godwit preened in a pool with some bathing redshanks. A curlew limped across the mud. A chap waved me over and pointed out three swallows. We had a chat, he's been seeing ospreys all week as his Seaforth home is on the main flyway to their Northern breeding territories.

A curlew with a sore foot

Redshanks

Redshank

It got even quieter as I approached the promenade. There'd been a colossal racket going on, now I could see the hovercraft coming back from the tideline and heading for Hoylake. 

The hovercraft over at Hoylake 

Footprints

I could see where the birds had been. I was nearly at the lifeboat station when a reassuring quack told me there was a pair of mallards were at the base of the sea wall. Or were until a dog chased them off. The only other birds in that half mile of foreshore were three pigeons and a pied wagtail.

Pied wagtail 

I walked up to Manor Road Station where chiffchaffs, robins and a blackcap sang in the trees. I still had four hours of daylight though I didn't have four hours' walking left in me. I got the train to West Kirby thinking I could have a sit down by the marine lake and weigh up the pros and cons of a walk up to Red Rocks. It was a very busy teatime. I had a belated sausage roll lunch and called it quits. I'm too old for squatting down to squint at wagtails.

West Kirby marine lake