Mosses

Juvenile long-tailed tit, Chat Moss

The back garden has taken on a primary school feel about it, someplace the parents drop the youngster off while they're busy elsewhere. A gang of just over half a dozen juvenile spadgers spend all day in the rambling rose before being gathered up by the duty cock sparrow of the day at tea time. The wren, like the blackbird, has gone quiet. They've both been productive: a juvenile blackbird is a fixture at the bird bath under the cherry tree and a juvenile wren keeps popping up out of the ferns under the dog rose. On the other hand I think the juvenile robin's been sent packing, the cock robin spends a lot of the day parading about the fences and jumping up and down on next door's washing line. The blue tits and great tits have pretty much finished their post-breeding moult and are making up for lost time by making inroads on the sunflower seeds.

The morning was busier than it should have been and I had things to do at lunchtime so it was early afternoon when I headed for the Trafford Centre and got the 100 to Cutnook Lane for a walk around Chat Moss in cloudy, clammy weather.

Cutnook Lane by the motorway 

There was a lot going on in the trees by the lane just over the motorway bridge. Unfortunately nearly all of it was soft contact calls overlaid by traffic noise. I managed to pick out at least one great tit and eventually the wren made it easy by bursting into song.

Treecreeper 

The walk down Cutnook Lane was quiet, punctuated by the occasional squeak from a chiffchaff or great tit and the noise of coots on the fishery.. Crossing Twelve Yards Road and carrying up the path through the woodland it was feeling like more of the same until I heard a family of long-tailed tits bouncing through one of the pine trees. I stopped to watch then realised they were the vanguard of a mixed tit flock. I stood still for ten minutes and watched the parade go by, the pine trees acting as a window as the birds flitted about in the birch scrub. Besides a couple of dozen long-tailed tits there were great tits, blue tits, coal tits and chiffchaffs. A juvenile willow warbler was a surprise but on reflection there's no good reason why they shouldn't tag along. A goldcrest providing fleeting views was hard work, a treecreeper working its way up the trunk of the pine a nice bonus.

Croxden's Moss 

The usual gang of crows called on the open ground of Croxden's Moss. Woodpigeons, lesser black-backs and swifts passed overhead.

I walked back and joined the path running parallel to Twelve Yards Road. Nearly all the birdlife I could see or hear was woodpigeons. Every so often I'd hear the squeak of chiffchaffs or willow warblers, sometimes both which gave me a chance to confirm the difference. Less often it would be the squeak of a chaffinch or wheeze of a reed bunting. A flock of linnets flew overhead. Gatekeepers joined the speckled woods on the brambles. As far as I could see there was literally nothing on the small pools on the peat cuttings besides a couple of broad-bodied chasers. Watching these I was startled by a sedge warbler suddenly bursting into song from a nettle-filled drain.

Common darter

I was worried that I wasn't seeing any dragonflies, the only one I'd seen so far was a Southern hawker patrolling the junction between Cutnook Lane and Twelve Yards Road. This stretch of path is usually busy with dragonflies, I was hoping to finally catch up with some common darters. I'd written them for today then found a willowherb patch busy with them, apparently freshly emerged. A fluttering object under the bramble leaves which I thought might be a crane fly or lacewing turned out to be an emerald damselfly. 

Emerald damselfly 
I struggle with the emerald damselfly group. In this light I wasn't sure if those wing spots were dark enough for this to be an emerald damselfly.

The same individual as above, different lighting, definitely an emerald damselfly.

I was the last meal of many a horsefly. Stepping out into more open country where the meadow browns outnumbered the gatekeepers they were joined by deer flies which are less voracious but quicker and nimbler. Swallows and swifts hawked over the fields, I rather wished they'd come over my way and I was rather regretting that spotted flycatchers only pass through this area and don't stop.

Twelve Yards Road 

A blackbird sang from the telegraph lines as I walked round to Twelve Yards Road. I joined the road and walked back to Cutnook Lane. There was a steady traffic of woodpigeons, black-headed gulls and lesser black-backs high overhead. Swifts and swallows swarmed over the fields. Chiffchaffs, willow warblers, whitethroats and chaffinches were contact calls and the occasional dark shape disappearing into cover. Spotting the yellowhammer as it flew between patches of dock on the rough pasture was a fluke but I won't be apologising for it. A flighty flock of linnets came as a bit of a relief. As I reached Cutnook Lane a toadlet scurried across the road.

Toadlet

Walking down Cutnook Lane I was hearing more than I was seeing, and I wasn't hearing all that much until I bumped into another, much smaller, mixed tit flock at the corner of Raspberry Lane. Blue tits and great tits bounced through the trees with a family of long-tailed tits and a couple of chaffinches. The turf fields at the bottom were busy with pigeons, woodpigeons, magpies and carrion crows and were under supervision.

A cat among the pigeons

Greater Manchester bumper bundle

Black-necked grebe, High Rid Reservoir 

What with one thing or another the past week was shot to bits as far as getting out and about was concerned so I thought I'd best catch up with some walking before the joints seized up completely, I'd spent the weekend walking like Long John Silver. The weather was what's euphemistically described as: "changeable," so I thought I'd have a short walk that could be easily extended weather permitting. A juvenile black-necked grebe has been showing well at High Rid Reservoir so I headed thataway.

Fall Birch Road 

I got the train to Bolton and the 575 to Ox Hey Lane. Crossing the road's fun here but two drivers took pity on an old man. I made heavy weather of the gentle cobbled slope up Fall Birch Road, I really should have made more of an effort to walk around the block a few times every day last week. The birdwatching was very quiet: a few woodpigeons clattered about the rooftops and silhouettes of blackbirds, great tits and robins flitted about the hedgerow by the golf course.

Mallards

A crowd of mallards, most of them near-grown ducklings, clustered about the near corner of the reservoir. More of them littered the banks. One duck had two tiny youngsters in tow. A crowd of coots clustered in the corner further along and a raft of a couple of dozen tufted ducks drifting between the crowds included a couple of half-grown ducklings. 

Black-necked grebe
First sighting it was asleep.

I spotted the black-necked grebe before I noticed the half-grown tufties, which saved a deal of confusion (I managed to confuse myself something silly later on when I was scanning round from the Northern shore). I walked up a bit, finding a couple of dabchicks in amongst the tufted ducks, the juvenile being altogether greyer and browner and much more low contrast compared to the black-necked grebe. I looked out into the midwater where I'd last seen that, to confirm the comparison. Stap me vittles there were two of them. They drifted close to each other and dived, staying underwater an unconscionable time, which seems to be a feature of black-necked grebes, before bobbing back up again a hundred yards apart.

Black-necked grebe diving

Black-necked grebe 

Juvenile grey wagtail 

While I was watching the grebes and ducks a family of grey wagtails fossicked about on the waterside. Pied wagtails fussed about on the bank to the North and an adult male worked its way along the castellated top of the stone wall, bobbing up and dropping down as it went.

Pied wagtail 

Pied wagtail 

Canada geese and greylags 

A herd of Canada geese with a handful of greylags grazed the field to the North. A flock of rooks and jackdaws fussed about in the shorter grazing further up the hill. Half a dozen each of Canada geese and greylags cruised the reservoir, a couple of the greylags flying over from the field to join them. There weren't many gulls about, most of the lesser black-backs, herring gulls and black-headed gulls were flying over between engagements. A few black-headed gulls and a couple of lesser black-backs settled on the reservoir to bathe before moving on to wherever. 

High Rid Reservoir 

Looking North towards Chorley New Road

The wind had picked up and was pushing some filthy clouds our way. A common gull blew in as the rain started spotting. I decided not to push my luck carrying on down Old Hall Lane and walked back down Fall Birch Road, the joints making themselves known along the way.

I got the 575 into Wigan, the weather clearing along the way. I'd decided I needed an off-road dawdle on the flat to get some movement back into the joints. There were a few options available, I hadn't visited Byrom Hall Wood yet this year and the 610 was sitting at the bus station when we arrived so that's where I headed for.

Byrom Hall Wood 

I got off the bus at Golborne High School and walked down Farm Croft Drive then followed the path down past the school field. This stretch always looks and feels like unfinished business with drives through gateways to non-existent houses. I disturbed a charm of about fifty goldfinches feeding on the thistledown in the abandoned pasture. Much to my surprise a garden warbler was singing in the copse by the gate.

Lightshaw Meadows 

A quick scan over Lightshaw Meadows found woodpigeons commuting between fields and swallows hawking low over ripening grain. A willow warbler squeaked in the trees I was standing by.

Batman hoverfly looking fearsomely wasp-like 

Batman hoverfly, a bit friendlier from the front
Unfortunately it wasn't for letting me have a good dorsal view to show the Batman mask on its thorax.

It was a fairly quiet Summer walk through the woodland. The woodpigeons, jays and magpies made themselves obvious enough. A couple of wrens sang. Chiffchaffs and willow warblers squeaked, great tits and blue tits tutted, long-tailed tits tried and failed to be silent as they bounced through the oak scrub. The brambles were awash with butterflies, mostly gatekeepers and speckled woods. Meadow browns, large whites and peacocks fluttered about the clearings. A small bird flew into a hawthorn I was passing and stood stock still and silent under the cover of twigs and branches. But not so under cover that I couldn't see the bright brown wing panel that nailed it as a whitethroat.

Peacock

As I approached Byrom Hall swallows and woodpigeons flew about the fields and a family of greenfinches flitted about between hedgerows. I had half an hour to wait for the 588 to Leigh so I crossed the road and wandered down Byrom Lane to Pennington Flash.

Byrom Hall 

Pennington Flash 

For a change I took the footpath that heads past Mossley Hall. I very rarely approach the flash from this end. A raft of about fifty coots drifted in the bay at the Northwest corner of the flash with a herd of a dozen mute swans and a couple of great crested grebes. Further out a small raft of lesser black-backs and herring gulls drifted midwater and in the distance there were more mute swans on the Horrocks spit.

Walking to Slag Lane 

Blackbirds and song thrushes sang in the trees and a great spotted woodpecker greatly objected to my passing by. I followed the path down and round to Slag Lane where I only had a couple of minutes to wait for the 588. While I waited I was serenaded by woodpigeons, a blackbird, a blackcap and a song thrush.

Amberswood

Guelder rose

We were back to business as usual so I decided I'd listen to the morning session of the Test Match then have a wander over to Amberswood to see if I could end this month's Cetti's warbler drought.

Black-headed gulls, rooks and jackdaws

I said yesterday there hadn't been a crowd scene of black-headed gulls on the school field so today we had one, nearly fifty of them drifted in at lunchtime.

Speckled wood 

I caught the 132 at the Trafford Centre and hunkered down for the long journey into Hinckley. It's actually about an hour but feels longer. I got off at Gregory Road and walked into Amberswood from the Manchester Road entrance. The hedgerows were eerily quiet. If goldfinches and woodpigeons hadn't been singing in the gardens beyond it would have been silent. Red admirals and large whites fluttered about the buddleias near the entrance, speckled woods flitted about the hedgerows stopping every so often to feed on overripe blackberries.

Amberswood 

A few hundred yards down the path a song thrush scurried across the path. Dunnocks and wrens fidgeted into the roots of brambles and gorse bushes like feathered mice. The only birds providing any prolonged views were the two young jays chasing each other round the canopy of an oak tree.

Broad-leaved helleborine 

I took the path branching out towards the lake through the woodland. Which was dead quiet. I found a couple of stands of broad-leaved helleborine in amongst the woundworts and nettles. As I squatted down to take photos of them a chiffchaff passed by in the trees overhead, giving a little squeak when it noticed me. Woodland birdwatching is a very different prospect in July compared to Spring.

Arriving at Amberswood Lake

I got to the lake where the magpies were rattling in the trees and another chiffchaff was squeaking in the willow scrub by the reeds. That was joined by a great tit and the rustlings in the reeds behind suggested there may have been more in there. I slowly wandered round the lake. I heard or saw no signs of Cetti's warblers but at least two reed warblers nests were betrayed by the begging calls of hungry youngsters. One of the adults assayed a short snatch of song before getting back to feeding the kids. A family party of blue tits flitted quietly out of the reeds into the trees, as did a couple of blackbirds.

Great crested grebe 

Out on the water a full-grown great crested humbug hung around with a group of mallards in the water lilies. One of the adult grebes cruised round the lake while the other sat on a nest. Young moorhens and coots pottered about with their parents. Two or three mallard ducks had small ducklings in tow, it was difficult to know who owned what in one of the groups, keeping track of the ducklings was like herding cats. A couple of common terns made a racket as they passed through and didn't stop. A bunch of black-headed gulls made a racket as they bathed and preened on the water. Way over on the other side of the lake a pair of mute swans leisurely patrolled the reeds margins.

Amberswood Lake 

A few common blue damselflies skittered over the water's surface amongst the waterlilies. I decided that if I made an effort to look for Norfolk hawkers I might bump into a Cetti's warbler. I was halfway round the lake before I bumped into a dragonfly of any kind, a brown hawker chasing flies over the reeds and bushes. As I was watching another brown hawker further along something with green headlamps zipped by at hip height. It came back, barely missing my ear, and resumed a hunt over the wayside flowers. The close fly-by registered a lot of green and some blue, it wasn't until it started flying in straight lines patrolling over some cow parsley I could confirm it as a Southern hawker. I have every admiration for people who get crisp, clear photos of large dragonflies in flight.

Amberswood Lake 

I was bumping into more great tits and blue tits and hearing reed warblers and coots in the reeds. A couple of juvenile chiffchaffs chased each other in and out of the hawthorns in the willow scrub. A kestrel hovered over the rough grass by the path to Liverpool Road. I'd reached the little patch of marsh by the Southern margin of the lake when I spotted a stubby brown dragonfly with clear wings instead of the amber wings of a brown hawker. It was a beggar to keep track of and it took ages to see it well enough to confirm it had the green eyes of a Norfolk hawker. It's only my second sighting of them so I can be forgiven the hesitation in identifying them.

I didn't find any Cetti's warblers.

The mallard ducklings set the pace across the lake…

…but the duck asserted her aurhority

Home thoughts

It was one of those days, after an eventful night, and the to-ing and fro-ing to the patient put the blocks on the planned walk. (All is well, just one of them things.)

The local swifts are starting to swarm, eight of them screamed past below chimney pot height as I went and got my father's morning paper. Last sightings of migrants birds are always evocative and nearly always retrospectively so. Swifts always just disappear like somebody switching on the light. You realise a day or two later they've gone.

Arrivals are much easier to notice. I'll soon be seeing the first common gulls drifting back to join the crowd of black-headed gulls on the school field. There haven't been the crowd scenes yet, a dozen was the highest number today. A couple of very dark juvenile lesser black-backs loafed with, I presume, their parents most of the morning before being joined by herring gulls.

I noticed that two of the spadgers' nests are on the go with parents busily filling hungry mouths. One of the tawny-looking cock sparrows brought four youngsters in to the sunflower seed feeder by the rowan and left them to it while he joined a bunch of older youngsters who were demolishing unripe rose hips.

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.