The difference a spot of rain makes

Greylags, Crossens Inner Marsh 

A grey, cool and murky Autumn morning turned into a grey, cool and murky Autumn day. I'd headed for Marshside, if the Ross' goose was still about I'd add it to the year list, if not there should still be plenty about. A skylark flew low over the school playing field as I walked to the station and I took this as a good omen.

I'd had a rough old night's sleep, having an early night, getting to sleep sometime after half-ten, waking up at what I thought must be about two o'clock and finding it was twenty-five past eleven. The start of the journey to Southport boded very dodgy indeed but once the train escaped the badly congested rail network of Greater Manchester things went smoothly and we only arrived five minutes late. The official reason for the long stop at Wigan Wallgate is the train crew changeover, in practice it builds a bit of slack in the schedule to catch up for delays.

The walk down Marshside Road was a bit different to a few weeks ago. The land drains were full of water and the marshes were lush. Greylags and Canada geese grazed, small flocks of starlings flew about. Skylarks were nicely in evidence, flying about in ones and twos over the road between the marshes. A handful of ruffs scuttled about a hundred or so loafing lapwings. And Junction Pool had water.

Black-tailed godwits

It was high tide and a couple of hundred fidgety black-tailed godwits roosted by the poolside. Small parties of them fed on the marsh. Mallards, shovelers, teal and a few wigeon dozed on the water. The Ross' goose had been reported here yesterday, the only white birds were a little egret and an Aylesbury duck. A black swan cruised about one of the smaller pools further out in the marsh. I don't think they nested successfully this year. The light was so poor and the godwits so densely packed even the least-worst of the photos rendered them as dark clouds on the marsh.

At Sandgrounders 

A Cetti's warbler sang about I walked down to the hide. The pools by Sandgrounders were nearly full of water. They weren't nearly full of birds, they'd taken the opportunity to spread themselves across the pools and drains across the whole marsh. Family groups of pink-footed geese grazed on the marsh or flew overhead. The wigeons were numbered in dozens rather than hundreds and the drakes were all in their ginger eclipse plumage though a few had already moulted a lot of their head feathers and were showing a yellow flash on their foreheads. The peculiar bubbling effect on the larger of the two islands in front of the hide was a couple of dozen very active meadow pipits scuttling about in the muddy grass.

Pink-footed geese 

I walked down to Crossens Marsh, staying on the inside of Marine Drive. Over on the outer marsh I could see flocks of skylarks and mipits bustling about as they flew between patches of marsh and every so often a party of pink-footed geese would be betrayed by one of the sentries poking its head above the long grass. Kestrels hovered over the marsh and a marsh harrier floated over the distant salt marsh.

Marshside Outer Marsh 

Walking down to Crossens Marsh 

The inner marsh hosted a lot of Canada geese and greylags and a few pink-feet. A pair of carrion crows harassed a buzzard on the boundary fence to Crossens Marsh.

Crossens Outer Marsh looked deserted, nearly all the geese were way out on the salt marsh. A handful of pink-feet pottered about closer to hand. Crossens Inner Marsh was heaving with geese, most of them greylags. There'd been a report earlier that the Ross' goose had been seen down here. The white object I'd kept my eye on walking down turned out to be a domestic farm goose.

Not a Ross' goose
Greylags

The Ross' goose was still about, though. It was with a group of pink-feet grazing on the outer marsh near the river over from the wildflowers' pull-in.

Ross' goose (white dot) with pink-feet (grey dots and smudges)

The murky light turned crowds of loafing lapwings and golden plovers into blobs of charcoal. Even the bright chestnut tones of the wigeons didn't survive much distance. Shovelers and mallards dabbled in monotone, black-headed gulls, little egrets and herring gulls looked flat grey, herons and flocks of teal merged into the background. Only the mildness of the weather told me it was still only early Autumn.

Wigeons

The bund at the back of the marshes

The footpath was being dug up by the waterworks so instead of walking into Crossens for the bus back into Southport I walked down the bund back into Marshside and got the bus there. Along the way an immature kestrel did that daft thing birds do where you try not to disturb them as you pass them sitting on a fencepost so they fly two posts ahead and wait to be disturbed again. And repeat. I'd walked most of the length of the bund before it tired of the game. 

Immature kestrel

The journey home was mercifully uneventful. The geese on the marshes were in their hundreds, there'll be tens of thousands by the end of the month and picking out any waifs and strays will be decidedly more difficult. Something to look forward to.

Teal