Lazy Sunday afternoon

I refilled all the feeders yesterday, including fat balls and suet blocks as well as the usual sunflower seeds. The spadgers had been dropping hints, the cocks tapping on the windows yesterday to alert me to hungry youngsters staring wistfully into the empty feeders. So I went out for supplies and refilled all the feeders.

Spadgers 

Today they've spent the day sitting in the rambling roses taking a prolonged bath in the rain. They've hardly touched the feeders, they'll get round to it when the fancy comes to them, there's plenty of seeds and berries and insect life to be getting on with. I think it's the principle of the thing with them. I'd have missed the coal tits had I not happened to glance out of the window as they disappeared into the foliage of the rowan tree. The cock emerged briefly, a handsome bird in fresh Autumn plumage with a very rich peachy brown belly the colour of cherry leaves falling in Autumn.

Magpie in the rain

The exciting phase of the Autumn migration is kicking in and while I'm making my plans for next week it's tempting to get over excited. Do I want to boost the year list or do I want to go to All The Places or do I just want to potter about and see what I will see. Or all of the above. And then the unplanned and unexpected will happen so it's anyone's guess. And it's not like I stick to plans anyway.

The wave of waders being reported on the wires include curlew sandpipers all over the shop, a little stint in the usual place at Hoylake and an American golden plover that's skipping to and fro across the Ribble at Freckleton. A flock of glossy ibises passed through Northwest England over the weekend… a flock of glossy ibises passing through Northwest England… and a couple of individuals have lingered around Conder Green and the area round Martin Mere. And there's scaups at Moore and ruddy shelducks at the mouth of the Mersey, a thin passage of black terns and little gulls, and I haven't yet seen any ring ousels, redstarts, spotted flycatchers or crossbills this year. Or tawny owls. Or… 

I'll see what I see.

A Stretford sunset 

A dramatic sunset at the dry end of a very wet day saw the arrival of eighty-odd black-headed gulls on the school playing field. They didn't all settle, when I walked back from the station after not finding any bats there were just four dozen of them with the dozen lesser black-backs.

I'd been back from the station five minutes when the soprano pipistrelles appeared and spent the twilight whizzing round the back garden. Which was nice of them.