Cob Kiln Wood

Cob Kiln Wood 

The robin joining the woodpigeons and collared dove in the quite-a-while-after-dawn chorus was a nice surprise, and yet another turn in the seasonal wheel. The appearance of a brand new, not especially good at flying, young robin at the bird bath was a bigger surprise. The sneaky devils!

I'd hoped that the rain first thing might freshen up the day instead the morning felt like a Turkish bath. And then the day grew hotter. I paid my daily visit and decided against a walk. Even the pigeons were hiding behind chimneys to keep out of the sun.

I decided on an evening walk, just to get some exercise, and I stuck the bat detector in my pocket, just in case. By the time I was listening to the parakeets going to roost by the allotments and the woodpigeons singing from the rooftops I wondered if I'd made a wise decision, it was still very warm indeed.

The sun was setting as I reached Cob Kiln Wood and the air felt cooler and smelled of loam and white poplars. Magpies rattled in the trees and woodpigeons grazed in the fields. An occasional tut in the bushes told me I'd just gone past a robin. The last of the lesser black-backs were heading to the Salford Quays roost. It was a dead clear and bright twilight and the yellow underwing moths were flitting about the trees in the clearing. Some large moths up in the tree canopy were unidentifiable silhouettes. I had no luck finding any bats, the only signals being the interference as I walked by the electricity pylons.

A walk down to the river found some woodpigeons having one last drink for the road and a heron settling down for some night fishing by the salmon ladder.

I walked down Cob Kiln Lane into Urmston. More magpies rattled, the last woodpigeons went to roost and the robins started singing. It had been a dead quiet walk but a pleasant one nonetheless.