Stretford Meadows

Shaded broad-bar

It was one of days that make you feel you've been standing in an automatic car wash far too long and it's given you a headache. The effects of a few lazy days and the weather made themselves known and I needed to get some exercise to get the joints working again. The first attempt was thwarted by "an occasional shower" which rained stair rods for an hour.

I wobbled out mid-afternoon and ignored a knee that was insisting I should be at home reading Harold Hare comics. I got to the allotments and tossed a coin: heads Cob Kiln Wood, tails Stretford Meadows and tails it was.

The ever-reliable spadgers were bustling about in the hedgerows at the end of Newcroft Road and a blackcap was singing fit to bust. Another joined the blackbird, song thrush and goldfinches singing in the trees. The rest of the birds, and most of the small birds over the next hour, were picked up by their calls: the contact calls of long-tailed tits, great tits and chiffchaffs, the raucous chatter of parakeets and the scolds of wrens.

Stretford Meadows 

There was a steady overhead traffic of squadrons of woodpigeons flying from the fields of the Mersey Valley to the school fields of Stretford and vice versa. Lesser black-backs drifted southwards high in the clouds. I was surprised that for once there were no carrion crows, rooks or jackdaws passing over. Down on the ground magpies rummaged about in the long grass and goldfinches flitted between thistle patches.

The thistles are already almost done, the goldenrod and willowherbs are taking the reins.

It felt too dull to be expecting any butterflies so I was surprised to see my first small heath of the year flit across the path and disappear into a bank of vetch. I drifted down to the cricket ground, passing a few more goldfinches and magpies. Meadow browns skittered low over bramble patches and thistles. They gave way to gatekeepers and speckled woods as I walked into the trees. Great tits, blackbirds and chiffchaffs quietly shuffled about in the trees, not even caring to take alarm as I passed.

Kestrel

I followed the curve of the path back up the slope into open country, a couple of wrens taking exception along the way. It was good to see one of the kestrels again, hovering low over the long grass. Having moulted a lot of flight and tail feathers it struggled to keep an even keel on the hover, the lack of tail feathers in particular making it difficult not to pitch over to one side.

Flesh fly

Marmalade hoverfly
Hoverflies seem to like me.

The flies, bees, butterflies and moths were busy in the undergrowth as I walked along. A couple of swifts did low passes over the rise. I wasn't enjoying the walk at all, the weather was far too clammy but at least I was getting some movement back into the knees and they'd stopped being painful. As I drifted back down the hill a linnet passed low overhead. I'm surprised how rarely I see them here, possibly there are too many passing dogs rummaging about in the undergrowth. This doesn't seem to put off the whitethroats which churred at me whenever the path got too close to their bramble patches.

Gatekeeper

A Northern wander

Lesser black-back, Barrow Station 

I had a pile of return passes giving me the freedom of the Northern network, courtesy of a lot of late and cancelled trains, the weather forecast was for heavy rain and thunder, I thought I'd have a lazy day of it. I've been thinking for a while that it's more than high time that I did the full length of the Cumbrian Coast line, it's nearly forty years since I last did it. Once I got to Carlisle the options would be to return whence I came, use some of my travel vouchers (another reward for bad service,) to get the Transpennine to Lancaster and thence home or get the train across the tops to Leeds and thence home, depending on time and energy.

As it happened, I woke early so I set off early. I got the Barrow train from Oxford Road and off we went. The past few trips up North have been a bit quiet, it was different this time up as far as Preston as all the woodpigeons and magpies hadn't been up long and so hadn't yet disappeared out of sight into the fields.

A herd of mute swans rummaged about in the far corner of the coastal pools at Leighton Moss. Crowds of black-tailed godwits, black-headed gulls, redshanks and a host of waders I didn't have time to identify (probably more godwits and redshanks but you never know) crowded the pool nearest the Eric Morecambe Hide.

River Kent, Arnside 

The tide was highish on the Kent at Arnside and the few black-headed gulls were over by the prom. It was quiet pickings on the salt marshes of Morecambe Bay. It was modestly better on the salt marshes past Cark where the swallows were already gathering on the telegraph wires. I was hoping to see eiders as we crossed the Leven but there were no ducks to be seen, only a herd of mute swans. The oystercatcher roosting on the viaduct came as no surprise, the common sandpiper did.

River Leven

The butterflies had woken up and became a feature of the journey to Carlisle with big swarms of large whites at many of the stations, taking advantage of the buddleias and valerians that are a constant feature and boding dodgy for the planters full of nasturtiums.

The lesser black-backs nesting on the factory rooftops of Ulverston had well-grown youngsters flexing their wings. I still don't know if the herring gulls and lesser black-backs at the station are actually nesting or just making a lot of noise. The gulls at Barrow were just making noise.

Herring gulls, Barrow Station 

The train made its way along the Furness coastline. The rooks and jackdaws in the fields of Askam gave way to the black-headed gulls and little egrets of the Duddon. The weather was decidedly odd. Looking out from my side of the carriage, to the South and West, it was a bright Summer's day, from the other side of the carriage the sky over the hills was black as pitch. The usual Lake District weather of this type passes over in bands of rain and sun, this time it seemed to have stalled.

Duddon Estuary from Kirkby-in-Furness 

A moulting flocks of about fifty eiders lurked in a creek near Kirkby. The first of the eruptions of large whites was at Foxfield Station, just over a dozen of them fluttering about the platform. The train crossed the Duddon and I craned over to look for the osprey's nest in the dead tree near the track. And there was an osprey again, even though the nest itself showed no sign of being used this season. Perhaps it's a particularly comfortable perch. I'm not complaining any, it's good to see them.

Holly blues and peacocks fluttered about Millom Station. Further along we were back into fields of rooks and jackdaws. It was a pure fluke that I noticed the snipe fly by as the train arced past the Haverigg Road. Swallows hawked over fields by Kirkstanton, swifts over the fields by Silecroft. A common hawker at Silecroft Station was the only dragonfly of the day.

River Esk at Ravenglass 

A grey wagtail sat on a wire fence and watched the train go by as we passed Whitbeck. A flock of linnets skittered over a field not long after. Every station we stopped at, however briefly, had its crowd of large white butterflies. A buzzard glared at the train from a fencepost near Drigg, the herring gulls barracked from rooftops in Seascale. There were more than a hundred herring gulls loafing on the River Calder at Sellafield. A stonechat hopped up onto the fence to see the train out of the station.

Braystones 

We were now hugging the Irish Sea coast. The tide was high and the scenery beautiful. Oystercatchers and redshanks roosted on the rocks away from the gulls. Another stonechat checked the train out as we approached Nethertown. Herons and little egrets fished in rock pools. A couple of dozen curlews roosted on the thin strip of beach above the tide at Nethertown as cormorants sat on rocks and held their wings to dry. As we approached St Bees the roosting black-headed gulls almost outnumbered the herring gulls.

St Bees Head 

We lingered at St Bees while the drivers swapped tokens, which is how I picked out the small whites from the crowd of large whites and spotted the whitethroat hiding in a bush by the platform. We then headed inland across to Whitehaven.

We rejoined the coast at Whitehaven, herring gulls flying over the harbour and red admirals fluttering about the station. Gulls and cormorants loafed on tideline rocks. Near Lowca I noticed a Sandwich tern with a flock of black-headed gulls. A shag was dwarfed by the half a dozen cormorants it was hanging out with. Near Ghyll Grove the cormorants were outnumbered by shags. A young great black-back intimidated the herring gulls at Workington where a couple of mute swans cruised in the River Derwent. 

Lowca 

We passed more huge gull roosts before we got to Flimby Station which was awash with dozens of large white butterflies. Maryport Station was nearly as busy with them, I noticed a few green-veined whites and small whites in the mêlée. In between were more gulls, linnets, little egrets and stonechats. 

It was inland then to Carlisle and no more crowds of birds or butterflies and the butterflies were outnumbering the birds about five to one. Until we passed a couple of hundred black-headed gulls loafing in a field halfway between Aspatria and Wigton. The balance tilted the other way with an apparent mass emergence of dozens of large whites at Wigton Station. There was a lot of waterfowl on Cardewlees Quarry as we passed, about a dozen were mallards, I have to pass on the rest.

I had about half an hour to wait for the train to Settle and Leeds. All the while herring gulls and lesser black-backs circled low over the glass canopy of the station. It's been a while since I've stopped here, it's a station that can be delightful in Summer and like a barn with the doors open in Winter. Today it was delightful.

Since Barrow I'd found that even when I wasn't seeing any birds about I'd be seeing plenty of butterflies. On the journey between Carlisle and Settle they were both very thin on the ground and I had to make do with enjoying the landscape, and there are much greater hardships than that. 

South of Langwathby 

The train accompanied the River Eden up the valley before parting company at Great Ormside and going over the tops. Sweeping lengths of undulating green fields were cut by becks densely lined with rowans. This sort of country you have to walk to get your birds, you'll not be seeing many from a moving vehicle and nor did I. What there were were mostly woodpigeons, carrion crows or jackdaws in ones and twos. A couple of dozen lesser black-backs loafed in a field near Little Salkeld. A buzzard sat by Langwathby Station. A pool near Culgaith had some mallards and coots on it. There were upwards of a hundred rooks in a field just outside Appleby.

Looking towards Cowgill 

Appleby Station restored my faith in Westmoreland's ability to provide butterflies. It was a large white and a red admiral but I'd gone half an hour without seeing any despite the sunny weather. One of the fields South of Appleby had a couple of hundred woodpigeons in it. We passed a few more large whites along the way. Chaffinches flitted between trees at Kirkby Stephen and swifts circled overhead. We moved through the open landscape, every so often a swallow or meadow pipit would fly by, some linnets near Angerholme Gill, a stonechat watched us pass by near Howe Beck Bridge.

The view from the Ribblehead Viaduct 

The view from the Ribblehead Viaduct is impressive but nowhere near as impressive as the view of the viaduct from the fells. It was good enough for me today. The train made its way down Ribblesdale and the occasional jackdaw in the fields became the occasional dozen jackdaws in the fields.

The Carnforth line approaching the junction with the Carlisle line

We joined the line from Carnforth and parted company with the Ribble North of Long Preston and headed East for the Aire. It had clouded over and we passed through a couple of light showers. When we passed Hellifield Flash I could spot a heron and some mallards, I'm sure there was much else I didn't get the chance to see. We passed a field full of rooks and jackdaws near Sugar Hill and a sandy brown buzzard floated lazily over another field as we passed near Otterburn in the rain. 

We joined the Aire at Bell Busk where a kestrel was hovering over the riverbank. I was thinking that I don't often see many birds on rivers in Yorkshire when I noticed a little egret on the bank. Half a mile further along there was another. As we approached Crossflatts I was surprised to see seven fallow deer grazing on the river bank.

It was pouring down when we got to Leeds where I just managed to catch the next train to Manchester. Leeds Station is a pig for connections because the signage isn't helpful. Having established by elimination that platform 9 is over the bridge I then had to hope that the train I was running for was the Manchester train on platform 9-thingy and not one going to Selby or somewhere on platform 9-something else entirely. It wasn't desperately stressful, the train to Wigan was due ten minutes later on platform 13-something or other.

The rain stopped once we got onto the right side of the Pennines and it was sunny in Manchester. The water was pouring off the roof at Deansgate Station but it was sunny. By some sort of miracle I made the connection with the train home and arrived back feeling quite knackered and with fifty-odd species of birds on the day list.

Rainy days

The weather forecast has been full of rain and thunder warnings this weekend. I'd made a start on going for a walk on Chat Moss yesterday, despite its being warm and very, very muggy. I hadn't gone far before the rain and the tingling in my fillings suggested it not be such a good idea and it took no persuasion at all to have me jack it in and get the bus home. Time was I'd have shrugged and frolicked in the rain, which is probably why I've got rheumaticky joints. I'd have been better off going into town and getting the train out to Hadfield or Marple but the problems the trains were having on Friday were a lot worse yesterday.

Today's more of the same, without any trains to ride on, I decided to deliberately have a reading day. The blackbirds and young magpies have been ploughing their way through the rowan berries at a fair rate. There'll be none left when the first of the Autumn migrants arrive. The silver-cheeked cock sparrow brought in yet another batch of fledglings, four of them this time. Unfortunately the larder's a bit bare, I couldn't get any sunflower seeds yesterday as planned so the feeders are down to their last scraps. It's quite a good strategy, though, show the youngsters where the easiest food is, see them safely through a few visits then leave them to it.

The cock robin's showed himself a couple of times this weekend. The reason became apparent when I saw the usual juvenile, it'll soon be chased off the territory to find its own way in the world.

The rain it raineth after tea. The black clouds rolled in like time lapse photography. The two dozen jackdaws and handful of rooks that had been a feature of the school playing field all day disappeared. The three lesser black-backs and dozen black-headed gulls that had been loafing on the grass woke up and started dancing for worms. They included two youngsters: a heavily tea-stained black-headed gull and a skinny lesser black-back so dark and sooty as to be almost black when wet. More gulls joined the throng, in the end there were 44 black-headed gulls (3 juveniles), 22 lesser black-backs (5 juveniles and 2 first-Summer birds) and 5 herring gulls (including one first-Summer bird) dancing in the twilight.

The seasons are a-turning.

Martin Mere

Moorhen chick

It looked like being a fair day so I decided I'd best go and visit Martin Mere before something else puts me off. The trains out of Oxford Road tried their best. I think I eventually got the Blackpool train to Bolton I was aiming for but I really wouldn't swear to it. In the midst of a signals meltdown everything had to stop to let a fifty-seven bogey freight train pass through.

Anyway, I had a nice journey from Bolton to New Lane. It's that time of year when there'll be more photos of butterflies than birds, reflected in the kaleidoscope of peacocks, red admirals and large whites in the trackside buddleias. The fields on the way in were full of rooks, jackdaws and woodpigeons, which is how it should be this time of year.

New Lane Station 

At New Lane Station the spadgers chirruped in the hedges, goldfinches twittered in the trees and greenfinches sang from the telegraph lines.

Gatekeeper 

It was a muggy sort of day and the path was awash with butterflies. Large whites, gatekeepers and speckled woods fluttered about the hedgerows, peacocks and red admirals fed on blackberries. As the path led into the open country of the potato fields common blues and small whites skittered about the verges and it was a miracle I didn't tread on any meadow browns. 

Linnet

I was glad to move upwind of the water treatment works. There weren't many black-headed gulls about but there were plenty of magpies, woodpigeons and pied wagtails on the pans. Whitethroats sang in the trackside hawthorns and a linnet sang from the wires. Reed buntings and skylarks fossicked about in the potato fields, calling every so often so that everybody could be accounted for. A migrant hawker patrolled the nettles and cow parsley along this side of the railway line, zigzagging past me before returning for a second look.

Fennel

Somewhere in the trees by the farmstead a young buzzard was loudly begging for food. An adult floating over the trees by the water treatment works didn't seem to be paying any attention.

Grayling

Approaching the fennel field graylings and small tortoiseshells joined the collection of pathside butterflies. That there were a lot of small birds rummaging about in the fennel was pretty obvious by the movement of stems and the occasional call. What they all were is anybody's guess. I saw linnets and whitethroats and heard more linnets, some goldfinches, blackbirds, meadow pipits and a chaffinch. A small brown bird saw me and disappeared into the depths with an alarm call I've never heard before and I've no idea what it was.

Small tortoiseshell 

Walking from the railway line to Martin Mere 

I crossed the railway line and tiptoed carefully through a carpet of meadow browns. The field was a blanket of thistles liberally peppered with peacock butterflies. Small flocks of linnets and goldfinches appeared and disappeared at random. A brown hawker patrolled the patches of tall grass, catching the small flies dancing in flight above the stems. I took some convincing that the reeling grasshopper warbler wasn't actually a grasshopper. A kestrel kept a watching brief in the dead tree by the collapsed shed. A sedge warbler sang from a bone-dry land drain.

Kestrel

Stonechat

I'd had better views of the pair of stonechats from the train the other day. I kept hearing them but wasn't seeing them until the male lost patience and escorted me off his patch. As I approached the gateway onto Martin Mere's external reedbed walk a stoat galloped across the path and disappeared down a rat run in the grass.

Banded demoiselle

There were birds about along the walk but they were almost universally keeping a low profile. Almost, because magpies will be magpies. As I tiptoed around butterflies and stopped to watch the migrant hawkers and brown hawkers patroling the hedgerows I could hear the quiet contact calls of chiffchaffs, blackbirds, blue tits and blackbirds. The occasional singing reed warbler or sedge warbler added to the background soundscape of distant greylags and black-headed gulls. A common tern flew overhead, it turned out that would be the only one I'd be seeing today. As the path turned into the open reedbed there were yet more butterflies and they were joined by banded demoiselles fluttering about the reed margins. A couple of chiffchaffs accompanied a family of long-tailed tits bouncing through the willow scrub near the end of the path.

Peacock

Marsh woundwort

I walked down the path to Tarlscough Lane, which proved to be harder walking ankle-deep in plantains and buttercups than it is ankle-deep in mud. The storks kept a close eye on me as I walked past their enclosure to the car park.

Once inside Martin Mere I went straight to the Discovery Hide to get my eye in. And have a sit down, if I'm being honest. This involved tiptoeing round a family of moorhens that had established squatters' rights to the path. The two young chicks were being supervised by an elder, full- grown sibling while the parents rummaged about in the grass.

Martin Mere 

The mere was as close to being quiet as it gets, which isn't very. A few dozen black-headed gulls and their flight-worthy youngsters lingered. Scores of mallards loafed on leafy islands. All the shelducks were full-grown juveniles, the adults having gone to join the moulting flocks elsewhere. Greylags, coots and lapwings dozed on the far banks. A few swallows hawked over the mere, most of them were flying about the visitor centre where the pickings seemed the greater. Hundreds of birds but it didn't feel busy.

Gatekeeper 

There was limited time and energy left in the afternoon, should I look at the reedbed hides or go to the Ron Barker Hide? I opted for the latter, a wood sandpiper had been reported there earlier, it would be nice to keep the year list ticking over. It feels a bit embarrassing to have seen more lesser yellowlegs than green sandpipers or wood sandpipers this year. It was a quiet walk down, most of it just with the butterflies and bees for company.

From the Ron Barker Hide
Cattle, heron and a buzzard posing as a fencepost.
(The buzzard is at two o'clock from the black and white cow's tail.)

The pool immediately in front of the Ron Barker Hide wasn't merely mostly bone dry, it was waist-high pasture. There was a tiny remnant of wet mud between what are usually two islands, a quick check couldn't find any sign of any waders. The diminished pool on the right-hand side had a flock of a couple of dozen young shelducks and some Canada geese. The longhorn cattle were grazing the pasture beyond with a heron and a buzzard keeping watching from the nearest fenceposts for anything that might be disturbed by the beasts.

Cattle egrets

Cattle egrets  (upper left) and cattle

The cattle egrets were keeping their distance. 

Cattle egrets 

Reed warblers flew to and fro with beaks full of insects. A female marsh harrier floated in and settled in a tree at the other side of the marsh. Overhead there was a constant traffic of black-headed gulls, lapwings and woodpigeons.

From the Ron Barker Hide 

I kept coming back to the patch of mud. Eventually I had a bit of luck as a green sandpiper flew in and settled, rummaging about in the emergent weeds. Come for a wood sandpiper, get a green sandpiper, I'm okay with that. A young whitethroat bobbed out of the brambles in front of the hide and sat in the fence as if with not a care in the world.

Whitethroat 

I headed back, taking the opportunity to not be able to find a tawny owl in the trees along the way. I disturbed a robin feeding on some windfall plums and was startled to realise it was the first all day.

Tarlscough Lane 

Red Cat Lane 

It was a weary walk to Burscough Bridge, the mugginess of the day was starting to tell. Goldfinches and collared doves sang from the treetops. Woodpigeons and carrion crows fossicked about in the ripening cereals, rooks and jackdaws in the newly-bared fields. I could hear yellow wagtails in the field by Curlew Lane but not see them. The sky above was filled with circling house martins and swallows. I had plenty of time to take it all in. The next train home had been cancelled.

Home thoughts

For some reason none of the plans for the day appealed and I really didn't want to be doing with public transport. Or people. Or walking. So I had a reading day.

Outside the spadgers descended on the sunflower seeds like a plague of locusts. The youngsters are in a settled group no longer supervised by the cock sparrows. Every so often a cock will fly in to the rambling rose to check up them before going back to feeding in the brambles on the embankment. As is the local custom this gang is accompanied by one of the juvenile blue tits. One of the others tags along with the grown-ups. The adults blue tits are busy moulting and leave them to it. I suspect similar arrangements go on with the other blue tits and spadgers families. The great tits tend to stick as a family group, as do the long-tailed tits that I don't see very often as they're staying in the top canopies of the sycamores. I've seen one juvenile coal tit, pretty much by accident as I was filling one of the bird baths.

The collared doves and woodpigeons are singing in the mornings, the woodpigeons give repeat performances in the evening. The blackbird has suddenly stopped singing, no wonder, the poor beggar's probably fair wore out.

Despite the gloomy weather the garden's full of butterflies, mostly large whites and an emergence of holly blues. I'd been missing these latter this Spring, they had a bad Summer last year, hopefully this year's Spring and Summer generations will build the numbers back up. As far as I'm concerned they can eat all the ivy they want and I don't mind them having a go at the hollies and dogwoods. The black-tailed skimmer was back in this afternoon, I'll need to keep a regular eye out for it.

Bats

I've taken to standing on the doorstep at dusk armed with the bat detector. It's a habit I got into while looking for something to do while the cat goes out to check the wheelie bins prior to turning in for the night. I've seen the occasional bat hawking in the trees round here in Summers past so it's not unreasonable to give it a go. There are enough moths fluttering about the honeysuckle and the street light to make it worth the bats' while. Up to this week all I'd caught on the detector was just the one pipistrelle. I've had better luck walking through the local parks at twilight. There are bus stops either end of the parks so it doesn't look suspicious to be cutting through though lingering may be frowned upon.

The front garden at night

Weighing up the cloud cover I wondered if bats rode ahead of the rain fronts like the swifts do so I hung on awhile. Luckily the bat detector has a red light on it so if any passersby gave me a quizzical look I could pretend I was having a crafty cigarette. After about half an hour I heard a peculiar noise around the 20Mhz setting. The pipistrelles I've heard sounded like regular bursts of Morse code. This sounded like the backing on a dance track being played on a beat box. Which, it turns out, is what a noctule bat sounds like. I knew there were some nearby because I've seen them occasionally in the Mersey Valley and here one was. It'll be interesting to see hear what else is about. 

Marshside

Black-tailed godwits, lapwings and dunlin

It threatened to be a dry but cloudy day, appreciably cooler than last week but still objectively warm. I woke to a high pollen count alert and thought to myself how lightly I'd gotten off it this year. Then I remembered that I haven't been properly able to breathe through my nose for a week. I decided to head for the seaside.

The sun shone in Manchester. Black clouds brooded over Wigan. It was bright and sunny in Southport. It was cloudy and sunny and windy at Marshside. It was one of them days.

From Marshside Road 

Marshside Road was fizzing with spadgers and house martins. The marshes either side of the road were dry green grass and looked deserted until Canada geese popped their heads up on sentry-go. Goldfinches and greenfinches twittered and sang and a whitethroat sang from one of the few remaining bits of hawthorn hedgerow. For once the land drains were bone dry until I got to the end of the road where they're dug a lot deeper.

Stonechat

The stonechats silently checked me out as I passed by.

Stonechat 

Stonechat

Junction Pool 

Junction Pool was mostly dried mud, a few cattle loafed in what little damp remained. I looked round in case any waders or cattle egrets about but aside from a moorhen and a couple of starlings it was nothing doing.

Marshside from the seat at the junction with Marshside Road 

Swallows buzzed the tops of the banks as I wandered over to Sandgrounders. A juvenile black-necked grebe had been reported here yesterday, I was hoping it might still be about, it would be a Merseyside tick for me and they're always nice to see. Failing that there should be some waders about given the dry state of the rest of the marsh.

Tufted duck 

There was a crowd of black-headed gulls and black-tailed godwits on the islands in the pool by Sandgrounders. A few Canada geese and herring gulls loafed on the banks with a cormorant and the inevitable great black-back. A few lesser black-backs and herring gulls were having a bath in one corner. Mallards, coots and tufted ducks drifted about on the water. Most of the adult godwits were still in foxy breeding plumage though a few were starting to show signs of their Winter greys. The juveniles were in greys and a few young birds still had relatively short bills which made me look twice to make sure of what I was seeing 

Black-tailed godwits, mallards, tufted ducks and black-headed gulls 

It was just as busy at Sandgrounders. It would have been easy to miss the half a dozen ruffs in the crowds if they didn't have such motley plumage. There weren't a lot of lapwings and just the one shelduck, I couldn't find any avocets. A couple of pied wagtails skittered about. Something which might have been a snipe lurked behind a far bank. A dunlin flew in and joined the godwits by the hide.

Black-tailed godwits, ruff (centre) and lapwings

Herring gull, black-headed gulls, black-tailed godwits and Canada geese 

Black-tailed godwits, lapwings and dunlin

Black-tailed godwits 

Something — I know not what — put up the waders. They billowed round in a panic. Two snipe shot off into the long grass over by Polly's Pool. Eventually everything settled back down, it was not as if there were very many other places to go.

Canada goose (left) and greylags (centre)

Black-tailed godwits, black-headed gulls and shelduck

Ruffs and tufted duck

When I'd walked in there were three gents sitting along the side windows staring intently down the drain that runs the length of this side of the reserve. Apparently the black-necked grebe was still about but had gone into the reeds at one side. It was a while before one sighed and said: "It's back out again!" I looked over. I could see coots and mallards and a fishing cormorant and a few more tufties… no grebe of any persuasion, I wasn't at the right angle. Eventually it drifted far enough out of the reeds — just — so I could see it. For a moment. If I'm being honest, my initial identification of the bird was by the time it spent underwater. The second time it bobbed back up I got a better look at it, all in grey scale and with a dark cap. It was too far away to be hoping for details like the red eye to be visible. But I'd seen it.

A common sandpiper flew in to join the medley of waders then flew over to join the pied wagtails fossicking about in the grass at the top of the bank. I was hoping for a green sandpiper or a wood sandpiper but it wasn't happening. 

I checked the time, I'd best bob on if I wanted to miss the Oasis concert traffic in Manchester. A flock of about a hundred starlings descended onto the bank next to the hide and disappeared into the long grass. On the way out I had a look to see if I could remember where the bee orchids were last time. I'd forgotten they were so small this year, I almost missed the still green seed heads nestling in the dewberries.

Common blue

Walking down Marshside Road the wind seemed to have put off any butterflies on the roadside verges, despite the overpowering scents of ragwort, tansy and goldenrod. Walking back was a different story with meadow browns and common blues fluttering in and out of the grass and feeding on the shorter stemmed flowers. The burnet moths were made of sterner stuff and clung onto the thistles like limpets.

Seven-spot burnet moth

I got the train back to Manchester easily enough and made the connection home surprisingly easily too. The train was ram-packed solid and I had to stand putting my weight on an ankle that had been behaving itself all day. it didn't take the gloss off a good day's birdwatching.