Mosses

Swallow, Barton Moss

The weather forecast at 4am had it that it was going to be a grey day, a quick check at half eight told me it was going to be heaving down all day. It was a bright, sunny morning and the forecast had been changeable like this all week. I decided I'd play safe and go for a walk on the Salford mosses rather than do the planned hillwalking.

The aim was to see if there were any passage migrants about. Late August is a good time for picking up on spotted flycatchers, redstarts and tree pipits, all of which I missed on Spring migration. Autumn migration's a more leisurely affair so there's a bit more of a chance of my striking lucky. The downside is that this time of the year they're quietly going about their business and there's a lot more leaf cover for them to hide in.

Barton Moss Road 

I'd not walked Barton Moss this year so I got the 67 bus from Irlam to Barton Moss Road and walked up to the moss. House martins were still feeding young in nests on the farmhouse while more of them hawked low over the horses in the field behind. The hedgerows were busy with robins and goldfinches and there was a steady traffic of squadrons of woodpigeons overhead. There was more about going unidentified, shadows of small birds disappearing into the depths of hawthorn bushes. A couple of great tits couldn't help themselves and betrayed their presence with their calls. Approaching the motorway I heard the first squeaking chiffchaffs of the afternoon. Large whites fluttered about in the undergrowth and a Southern hawker was patrolling the treetops.

Barton Moss 

Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about in the rough pasture on the left-hand side of the road. A light rain started to fall. A tree pipit saw me but I couldn't see where it was calling from. I had more luck in the field of potatoes next to the motorway as three yellow wagtails flew about before settling in the rough grass in the field margin opposite me.

The motorway bridge

I crossed the motorway and joined Twelve Yards Road, heading West for Chat Moss. The rain front was rolling in and a flock of a few dozen swallows divided its time between hawking low over fields of barley stubble and feeding high on the insects pushed forward by the front. A buzzard floated over the motorway, seen on its way by a kestrel which harassed it until it was well over this side and out of the kestrel's territory. Way over by the railway a flock of black-headed gulls followed a tractor as it turned over a field. A few drifted my way. The excitement of a possible fly-by Mediterranean gull was dashed by its turning out to be a Tesco's carrier bag.

Twelve Yards Road, the M60 on the left

A couple of hawthorn bushes by the motorway were busy with titmice and warblers. It was hard work picking out the runners and riders as they kept to cover and most of the movement in the leaves was caused by the wind and rain. There were speed restrictions on the motorway and the traffic noise drowned out any bird calls that might have helped. Blue tits and a chiffchaff bounced about the bindweed covering the higher branches, great tits and a juvenile whitethroat kept to the depths. I strongly suspect I missed a few somethings.

The long-tailed tits in the next stand of hawthorns and elderberries were a bit more obliging, striking poses on dead branches until the camera came out of the bag. I was putting the camera away when the swallows fell into a mad panic. I didn't spot the young sparrowhawk until its wing grazed my right shoulder as it batted through the hawthorns. Even after the sparrowhawk had gone a couple of young swallows carried on their alarm calls until they realised that nobody else was shouting so I couldn't have been much of a threat.

Twelve Yards Road 

The rain hit and the birdwatching got a lot quieter. The small birds in the hedgerows disappeared into deep cover. The hundreds of woodpigeons and scores of jackdaws carried on feeding in the fields. It looked like Astley and Boothstown were copping for thunder. I have to say, walking under a line of electricity pylons in the rain to the accompaniment of the hiss of rain on the wires and nearby thunder was a tad unnerving.

Barton Moss 

As I approached the junction with Cutnook Lane jays interrupted their gathering of acorns to make rude noises at me. Chiffchaffs squeaked as I walked up the path towards Croxden's Moss and chaffinches hooted with derision when I thought better of it given the weather conditions.

Cutnook Lane 

Just to rub it in, the sun came out as I walked down Cutnook Lane. A couple of mixed tit flocks made themselves  known in the birch scrub. At the bottom of the lane, by the motorway, a lot of turf had been cut from the far end one of the fields, the rectangle of black earth was covered in crows, rooks and lapwings. Pied wagtails flitted about the margins. One of them looked particularly pale, I put it down as a juvenile at first, they can look ghostly pale especially against a very dark background. It flew onto the grass and it was immediately apparent that it wasn't a juvenile and was actually an adult female white wagtail. It's only the past few years I've started spotting white wagtails this time of year. I'm not seeing many, perhaps one or two each Autumn. I don't know if they're becoming more frequent on Autumn passage or if I'm just getting better at noticing them.

I got the 100 back to the Trafford Centre. We passed three each of sunny spells and heavy showers along the way. Only when I was back home and updating my spreadsheet did I realise that the tree pipit made it 200 on the year list, the first time I've got there as early as August. I had it in my head I was struggling this Summer.