Dreich

I worry that I've become a fair-weather birdwatcher. Today's plan was to have a toddle round the Chorlton stretch of the Mersey Valley, which I've not got round to yet this year. It was a murky morning after a very wet night and I wasn't feeling enthusiastic. I put my coat on, opened the front door and it started pouring down. I got a cup of tea.

Glancing over the road there were fewer gulls than normal on the playing field, which is odd when it's raining and just before the kids' lunch break. Half a dozen black-headed gulls with a couple of common gulls and a first-Winter herring gull. Most of the herring gulls the past couple of weeks have been first-Winters. Then there was another gull standing over on its own. A rather striking individual, the wings and body the dark browns of a first-Winter gull but with a predominantly white head and breast, as if it was wearing a hood. At first sight I thought it might be a first-Winter great black-back but it wasn't nearly big and massive enough. It was a first-Winter yellow-legged gull. Not for the first time I wished I could point a pair of binoculars and a big lens that way for a better look at a gull.

I was feeling scratchy so I got the train into town and played train station bingo at Piccadilly. The next train I didn't have to rush for that I wouldn't have to get off at Stockport was the Buxton train. My monthly travel card lets me ride this route as far as New Mills Newtown. I've been meaning for years to do a reconnaissance of the walk along the River Goyt here, for over forty years New Mills has been some place I've passed through and gaped as I've gone by the river gorge. I'd have a quick look to get my bearings then get the train back from New Mills Central. It's a fifteen minute walk between stations, passing both the Peak Forest Canal and the river along the way, and pairs of jackdaws chakking from every fourth chimney top.

Torr Vale Mill from Union Street 

From the bridge where Union Street crosses the river I could check out the riverside walks and see how the Millennium Path drops down from behind the bus stop near New Mills Central. Yes, there's definitely a good-looking walk there. As if to tempt me it stopped raining and the sun threatened to come out. Common sense prevailed and I went for the train.

A lollypop lady advised me the road was closed, even to pedestrians, and the best bet was to drop down to the river and take the bridge round to the station. As I was walking down the step path down I wondered if I hadn't been better stopping up top and getting the bus to Glossop. I'm glad I didn't, it was a bit of an unexpected effort but well worth it. The river was very fast and thundered over rapids by Torr Vale Mill. Great tits and robins sang in the trees. 

Union Street from the river

Torr Vale Mill, the River Goyt and the Millennium Walkway 

The bridge to the station turned out to be the Millennium Walkway, a curving shelf high over the sharp bend of the river. The views are smashing but it doesn't do to be the sort of person who's seen too many B-movie serials with cliffhangers including collapsing structures. But the views are brilliant.

River Goyt

This is the sort of environment where you'd hope to see dippers and grey wagtails. So I was glad to see a grey wagtail fossicking about on the gravel beach inside the river bend. The river was probably too fast and deep for dippers today.

The steep path up to the station was not unexpected but still took the wind out of my sails. For once I was glad a train was four minutes late.

Colwyn Bay

Cormorants
There wasn't any shortage of perches, the original sitter was evicted just out of spite.

The train services are going to be bedlam next week, Manchester Piccadilly is closed for something or other again. I thought I'd best get one or two of the long-distance jaunts done and dusted this week, trains and weather permitting.

February's a good time for checking out the rafts of common scoters in Colwyn Bay. There are reports of a surf scoter this week (is it the same one every year?), it would be good to get them both on the year list and it's a very nice walk from the station to Old Colwyn.

Colwyn Bay Pier

Arriving at Colwyn Bay it's literally just a matter of walking out of the station, taking the footpath under the line and hey presto! there's the pier. The tide was lowish but on the turn. It doesn't go out very far here compared Liverpool Bay so seawatching was a practicable option.

Looking over towards Old Colwyn 

Seawatching's an odd business. You arrive, you look at the sea through your binoculars, not a sausage save a few waves. Then half a minute in you start seeing objects on the waves and half a minute after that you start recognising them. The weather was on my side today, dull but with good visibility up to about five miles, though the wind farm on the horizon was misty. Bright, sunny weather can bring out so much glare and contrast on the water you can't see anything properly. I had a fighting chance today and was soon seeing distant black blobs which eventually resolved themselves into scores of drake common scoters. I couldn't work out if I couldn't see any female scoters because they were too far away for me to pick up or if they just weren't there.

Herring gulls

I walked along a bit. Robins and a coal tit sang from the railway embankment. Herring gulls and black-headed gulls flew about making a racket, perched on lampposts and made a racket or bathed in the sea and made a racket. Cormorants perched on marker cones. Great crested grebes dived in the surf after dabs. I'm always surprised there aren't more waders here, I suppose it's because it's such a short beach and the promenade is always busy with people. Turnstones never seem unduly fussed by people, a dozen of them were busy throwing seaweed about by the car park.

Turnstones

The further I walked the more scoters I was seeing, there were hundreds of them out there with hints of plenty more beyond as every so often a stocky black speck would fly across the waves. Some of the rafts drifted closer inland but still well beyond my camera's capabilities (don't think I didn't try and don't think I didn't bin the results). I started to be able to pick out a few female scoters but they were still very heavily outnumbered by the drakes. A couple of paler objects had me baffled. Luckily they were drifting forward slower than I was walking and after a good five minutes' worth of head-scratching and bad language I finally recognised them as a pair of red-breasted mergansers. It was worth the effort, though, as the raft of scoters they were shadowing included a drake velvet scoter. I very much doubt if I could have picked it out with binoculars had it not raised itself up and given its wings a good stretch, letting me see the big which patch on each of them.

The sea was drifting in as I walked into Old Colwyn

A lady stopped me and asked me what was out there. She'd seen a group of people with telescopes on the fisherman's pier in Old Colwyn and here was me with a pair of bins. She was surprised to hear there were thousands of ducks out there every Winter and even more so when I lent her the bins and she could see a lot of them.

Looking back to Colwyn Bay

I walked down into Old Colwyn and stared out to sea from the fisherman's pier. If the surf scoter was about I wasn't seeing it, or was seeing it but not being able to identify it at that distance. I wasn't terribly disappointed, I'd got two out of the three species of scoter on offer onto my year list and had an exceedingly pleasant walk.

Old Colwyn 

I checked the train times and found that if I put a shift on I could get the next train back. I got it with four minutes to spare. I was ever so glad there was a trolley service and I could have a cup of tea.

Greater Manchester bumper bundle

Common gull, Elton Reservoir

I was due a visit to Elton Reservoir, the arrival of a Slavonian grebe there this weekend gave me a good reason to do it today. I left a garden full of titmice and spadgers and got the train into Manchester. Now that most of our trains don't stop at Deansgate it's trickier than it used to be to get to Bury and Rochdale so I caught the Blackpool train, got off at Bolton and got the 471 over to Bury.

Siskin

Walking down to the sailing club the trees were full of birdsong: great tits, robins, coal tits and woodpigeons sang almost incessantly, wrens burst into song as I walked past them. Blackbirds, greenfinches and goldfinches fussed about in the hedgerows; jackdaws, magpies and black-headed gulls called as they passed overhead. The feeders at the car park were busy with greenfinches, great tits and goldfinches. A couple of chaffinches passed by, a trio of bullfinches made a cameo appearance and a lone male siskin flew in and gave a brief burst of song from a treetop before moving on with a small flock of goldfinches. No redpolls today, though, but I shouldn't be greedy.

It was a dull, grey sort of day and it was wet underfoot so I decided to stay on the South side of the reservoir. Which was muddy enough for fun.

Elton Reservoir 

The usual crowd of mallards, coots, mute swans and Canada geese congregated about the corner near the car park. A raft of black-headed gulls drifted offshore. I made sure to check there wasn't a Mediterranean gull in there and found a couple of common gulls. I walked round the sailing club, finding a grey wagtail in the sluice by the clubhouse and a pied wagtail on the edge of the reservoir. 

Mallard, coot and Slavonian grebe (right)
Heavily cropped record shot.

There was a handful of lesser black-backs amongst the herring gulls on the water, a great black-back drifted on its own. It took ages to find any grebes, which is unusual as the great crested grebes generally hug this bank. The first grebe I saw was a dabchick skittering over the water by the far bank, I calmed myself down, it wasn't the Slavonian grebe, they're small but not that small. Then I found a couple of the great crested grebes swimming round each other by Radcliffe Old Hall Farm. I was watching them and wondering if they were going to make an early start at dancing when I noticed the Slavonian grebe steaming past a group of mallards. It showed very well right indeed but kept its distance from this bank. Had I squelched and slid my way across the other bank I'd have been closer but struggling to see it for trees and bushes. The Slavonian grebe went in for a lot of deep dives but I couldn't see that it was catching much.

Elton Reservoir 

Withins Reservoir 

Withins Reservoir was half-full, which was odd because the ground around it was saturated and the paths running streams. A couple of dozen each of mallards and teals cat-called me as I walked round.

Lumpy bracket fungus

Walking along Redstart Alley was like walking down a gutter

Having told myself I wasn't dropping drown at the sluice then climbing up to join the path through Redstart Alley and past the farm and onto the canal that's precisely what I did. The great tits and jays in the hawthorns of Redstart Alley were pretty unimpressed. Truth be told, for all my griping about the mud it was a very nice walk. Blackbirds, carrion crows and magpies fossicked about in the fields and robins sang in the trees.

Manchester, Bury and Bolton Canal 

Coot

I walked down the Manchester, Bury and Bolton Canal into Radcliffe. The hawthorns were very busy with titmice, blackbirds and robins, the fields on the far side were busy with jackdaws and crows and pairs of mallards, coots and Canada geese cruised the canal. A solitary mute swan grazed by the Banana Path bridge.

Manchester, Bury and Bolton Canal,  Radcliffe town centre 

Last week's laziness was telling on me, by the time I got into Radcliffe town centre my knees were screaming. Any ambitions I may have had to skip over and join the Outwood Trail were firmly knocked on the head. I hobbled to the nearest bus stop, which was the 524 to Bolton. I didn't have long to wait and while I was having a nice sit down and got my second wind on the bus I remembered this stops at Moses Gate Country Park. I surely must have enough legs left in me for a toddle round the lake.

Goosander

So I got off at Moses Gate Country Park and walked up to the lake. Goosanders and Canada geese loafed on the River Croall and a cacophony of gull calls drifted over the rise from the lake.

Mute swans 

The lake was extremely busy with birds. Scores of herring gulls and black-headed gulls crowded out the mallards, Canada geese and even the mute swans mugging for scraps by the car park. There were perhaps a dozen lesser black-backs, I scanned the hordes for anything more exotic but it wasn't happening today. A couple of cormorants loafed on poles, moorhens and coots fussed about, a couple of pairs of gadwalls nodded to each other and a raft of tufted ducks drifted across the lake. I had a sit down to say encouraging things to my legs and listened to the robins, coal tits and great tits singing in the trees.

Moses Gate Country Park 

Moses Gate Country Park 

The sun poked its way through the clouds and the scenery all looked very picturesque. I somehow found myself walking up the hill out of the country park into Farnworth. 

Moses Gate Country Park 

Halfway up I cursed myself for a fool. Up top I congratulated myself on getting the joints working again (the thigh muscles were less impressed and had to be mollified when I got home with liberal lashings of Doctor Ethel Nasty's Fiery Rubbing Cream). It was worth it, though, I'd had two very good birdwatching walks, the weather had behaved itself and I was no longer walking like somebody had stuck a polo mallet down each trouser leg.

Home thoughts

It was a surprisingly mild and pleasant day today. I quelled the urge to tempt fate with Sunday public transport and set to trying to catch up with the chopping back and chopping up that needs doing in the back garden if it's not to become impenetrable. There were rude noises off from the house sparrows and great tits but they were mollified by my refilling all the feeders. The robins, dunnock and woodpigeons were busy singing so didn't take much notice of me, neither did the blue tit that came in. 

Rather to my surprise, given how mild it's been lately, a pair of chaffinches came in for a feed.

Whether or not I see the coal tits in the garden is a matter of pure dumb luck, they sneak in and out like ghosts in the night. I'm hoping something similar is the case with the wrens, I've heard or seen nothing of them so far this year.

The collared doves, which had been singing incessantly throughout January, have gone very quiet, which means they have nests on the go. The magpies seem to be renovating the nest in the tree across the road, I must remember to leave some twigs for them to pick up. If only so they leave the cherry tree alone this year.

• Black-headed gull 1
• Blackbird 2
• Blue tit 1
• Carrion crow 2
• Chaffinch 2
• Collared dove 1 
• Dunnock 1
• Goldfinch 1
• Great tit 2
• Greenfinch 1
• House sparrow 14
• Jackdaw 2
• Magpie 3
• Ring-necked parakeet 1
• Robin 2
• Starling 2
• Woodpigeon 3

Lists and taxonomies

The weather's been vile so I'm catching up on my reading. At the beginning of each year there's a flurry of activity on the taxonomic front as revisions to official lists get published. This year the big change to the British List is its being aligned to the recently developed World List called AVList, an internationally pulling together of all the existing official lists in the hopes of ironing out inconsistencies so that everybody's singing from the same song sheet. Which is important as birds don't respect man-made geopolitical or biogeographic boundaries. 

As ever with these changes there are lumps and splits, this time there tends to be more birds getting lumped together into one species because it made sense to take a conservative approach in developing the first edition of the World List. Some of these might get split back up again in future editions after future research. Or not, as the case may be. Which raises the question: why are there any changes in the first place?

One reason is that the species concept is a man-made construct trying to impose set boundaries on dynamic realities. A dog is obviously not a cat and so can easily be consigned to different species. But how different does one population of animals have to be to another for them to become different species? That's trickier. Especially as there are so many different ways of observing difference and there are so many ways that being extremely different isn't necessarily different enough — a Great Dane and a Chihuahua are both dogs after all. And evolution keeps carrying on its merry way so some isolated populations are in the process of becoming new species, and some that were in the process of becoming new species jumbled back together as climates and breeding ranges change while others met but stayed distinct from their close relatives — all of which is why large gull taxonomy and identification in particular is like knitting fog. (It's an order of magnitude messier in the botanical world and they have my sympathy.)

The other key reason is research. Two species might look near enough identical but turn out to be biologically very different, or look very different but turn out to be biologically the same (see: Great Danes and Chihuahuas). The development of DNA sequencing has added a further dimension to this. As a for instance, our Eurasian magpies turn out to be more closely related to the American yellow-billed magpie despite looking nearly identical to the black-billed magpie. It wasn't so long ago that all magpies with black bills were thought of as the same species.

Of course, the birds themselves don't give a monkey's so why does it matter? One reason, beside the basic human instinct to put things in pigeonholes, is the academic study of evolutionary biology, migration, ecology and the like. The other is that, sadly, it's easier to get the resources and support necessary to conserve a population of animals that is a distinct species than it is if they're a lower taxon such as a subspecies.

So what's all this means for everyday life for everyday birdwatchers? Usually not a lot. Most birdwatchers, like me, have informal lists for their own amusement. Its generally the hardcore listers who feel the impact of the changes. For me the British List at the start of the year is the British List for the year. Which isn't the list on my spreadsheet with the nearly fifty worksheets in it. That's terribly inconsistent with me recording some subspecies and distinct varieties and not others. Because it's my list for my records. So rock doves and feral pigeons are recorded separately but are counted as one and the same as far as my British List is concerned. Similarly, light-bellied, dark-bellied, "grey-bellied," and "brent geese of one sort or another," are recorded separately but count as "brent goose" on my British List. Other subspecies don't get listed separately on my spreadsheet but if I see them and can identify them I do record them on BirdTrack and, if required, provide details to County Recorders. Examples would be the recently mentioned Continental ater coal tits, Scandinavian argentatus herring gulls and carbo and sinensis cormorants. That sort of detail may be useful to other people and I'm happy to pass it on but it's not something I've got into the habit of hanging onto for myself. About ten years ago I was tempted to do something about that but the magnitude of the changes I'd have to make in the rearranging of my records, and the scope for my making a right bog of it, persuaded me to leave well alone. That's also the reason why the sequence is based on one adopted back in the seventies.

There is something that the changes to the list do that does make a difference to everyday birdwatching: they flag up distinct taxa that may have been hiding in plain sight. Thirty years ago any large gull with a grey back seen in Britain was a herring gull. A Caspian gull was a yellow-legged gull, which was a herring gull. All the grey-backed gulls might or might not have been what we would now define as herring gulls, I wonder how many of the other taxa went unrecorded because we just didn't know to look if they were different.

There's more about this, as well as the list itself, on the British Birds website.

Platt Fields

Canada geese, mallards and coots

Looking out of the window watching the spadgers make swift inroads on a feeder full of suet pellets it struck me once again that me and the Met Office have different ideas of "Light rain." Time was I'd not have cared and would have gone bouncing out to some rain swept corner, which possibly explains why I now have joints that can tell you it's going to rain tomorrow.

The rain eased a bit at lunchtime so I decided I'd bob over to Platt Fields in Manchester to see what was on the duck pond. By the time I arrived it had stopped raining completely though it was still a thoroughly miserable afternoon.

Blue tits, great tits and robins sang in the trees as I walked in from Wilmslow Road. It sounded like the ring-necked parakeets were already going to roost though they were making enough noise to raise the dead. The magpies were positively sedate by comparison.

Platt Fields duck pond

I keep expecting herons on this island but I've yet to see one here

I expected more mute swans and Canada geese on the pond, there were a handful of geese and a couple of swans. On the other hand there were plenty of coots and mallards and a dozen tufted ducks. I checked just in case it was Manchester's turn to host a ring-necked duck again. It wasn't. I had an hour's putter about without adding anything else to the tally so I headed home.

I knew the 150 bus back to Stretford was due soon so I checked on Google Maps. It was due very soon so I clicked on "directions" to see how likely I was to miss it. Google Maps told me it would take half an hour to walk to the bus stop, which was nonsense. I checked it again while I was waiting to cross the road at the corner opposite the bus stop. Sometimes you have to conclude that Google Maps has been drinking.

Some travel advice can safely go unheeded

Leighton Moss

Pintails, mallards and teal

I would have put good money on my first words of the day not being: "Where's your tail?" As I opened the front door I'd disturbed a magpie that had been rummaging round the plant pots and it bounced down the path and shouted rude things from the tree across the road. It had evidently just had a mauling from something, as well as being tailless it was holding its wings stiffly and the blood on its left wing hadn't dried. It's been the best part of a week since I last saw any of the neighbourhood cats and the other magpies hadn't made the commotion I'd expect from a visit by the sparrowhawk. I wonder if it had pushed its luck with one of the carrion crows. 

The weather was set foul and the wind was cold and fast. It was a day for pottering about inside, or failing that sitting on an almost warm train for long periods. I settled for the latter, got myself an old man's explorer ticket and got the Barrow train.

The bird life seen from the train on the way up was a lot quieter than usual. Woodpigeons and magpies, if seen at all, were huddling out of the wind in lower branches of trees. Their usually favoured trackside furniture perches were deserted. We passed by a few small groups of gulls, mostly black-headed with a few herring gulls North of Preston. 

Mute swans, greylags, teals and mallards cruised the pools at the coastal hides on the approach to Silverdale. There were a host of other ducks out there that I couldn't identify as we chugged past. A great white egret stuck out from the rushes on one of the islands. Another great white egret was stalking flooded fields on the approach to Arnside. 

When we left Lancaster the Lune looked to be at high tide. The Kent at Arnside looked halfway up and the mud banks were still being explored by redshanks and curlews. A redhead goosander steered its way away from the viaduct as the train passed over the main channel.

The salt marshes on the other side were busy with mallards, teals, carrion crows and shelducks. But no little egrets. Having had a quick look at my records I discover that I don't often see them on Morecambe Bay in February. Looking out of the train window I couldn't blame them for going for more sheltered spots inland.

The Leven was running very high and scores of wigeon moved away from the viaduct as the train passed over. I keep hoping to see a few eiders here but I've had no luck yet this year and didn't on the way back, either.

I didn't want to wait fifty-odd minutes for the next train back from Barrow and the weather didn't suggest itself for a walk round Barrow Park or Cavendish Dock so I got off at Dalton and waited five minutes for the train back to Silverdale. I managed to see a couple of little egrets on the way back, singles on sheltered pools at Kents Bank and on Meathop Road outside Grange-over-sands. The Kent still wasn't anywhere near as high as the Lune or Leven, a flock of lapwings loafed on one of the mud banks as we passed.

I got off at Silverdale and walked round to Leighton Moss. The vegetation's been stripped off the station wall and great lumps have been taken out of the stones in the process.

It wasn't the weather for a prolonged visit. I decided I'd be getting the next train back to Manchester. I had The Hideout to myself, the weather was that bad. The greenfinches on the feeders were making most of the noise but the chaffinches were outnumbering them three to one. Great tits muscled in as best could. Blue tits, coal tits and marsh tits dashed in an out whenever there was a lull in the feeding. Today's mopping-up crew were a couple of mallards, a pheasant, a moorhen and a crowd of chaffinches. The robins were mostly busy singing in the bushes.

Leighton Moss 

The view from Lilian's Hide 

The walk round to Lilian's Hide confirmed this was going to be a short visit. All the small birds noises were creaking and groaning branches. The ducks weren't fond either, great masses of them had beached onto the bank in front of the hide and gone to sleep. A raft of coots were drifting about midwater when I arrived. They quickly headed for the bank when a shower of horizontal rain passed by. A raft of pintails stayed out a lot longer, the drakes were busy trying to impress the ladies. They only shifted when a female marsh harrier drifted over, they flew up in a panic and joined the crowd of ducks on the bank. Another female harrier was flying about with a male way over by the causeway, it was impossible to tell whether or not they were paired up or a coincidence. Any ideas the pintails had about drifting back out into the water were knocked on the head when the pair of great black-backs drifted by.

Shovelers
The first-Winter drakes, like the one in the front, were starting to show the green on their heads.

Shovelers 

Coot and teal

Mallards and teal

Pintails 

Marsh harrier
The reason for the pintails' skittishness.

Pintails' 

Chaffinch 

I headed back to the visitor centre, passing a squealing water rail in the reeds by the hide. A small flock of goldfinches were trying to get a go at the feeders but the greenfinches and chaffinches weren't for letting it happen. I had to walk around a marsh tit on the path, it was very intent on something in the gravel.

Marsh tit 

I got the next train back. Fortunately so, it started pouring down before we got to Carnforth. It had been another lazily productive day's birdwatching. 

Worsley Woods

Teal, Old Warke Dam

It was a slightly milder, but still cool, day and the wind was still making itself felt. The spadgers in the back garden somehow managed to demolish a feeder full of fat balls in just over a day (even the magpies didn't get much of a look-in). I've been having a lazy few days so I thought I'd best get a walk under my boots. I went over to the Trafford Centre to play bus station bingo, a toss-up between Pennington Flash and Amberswood, and my bus got me in during that mad gap in the new timetable where there's a half-hour wait and the 126 and 132 arrive together. So I got the 22 to Monton and walked up to Worsley via Duke's Drive and Worsley Woods. Which turned out to work well, what parts of the walk that weren't sheltered by trees were along old railway cuttings.

Carrion crow, Duke's Drive 

I got off at The Bluebell, which sounds a bit Stanley Lupino but there we go, and walked past the already crocus-strewn Monton Green and onto Duke's Drive. Robins and woodpigeons sang in the trees and they were soon joined by blue tits, coal tits and great tits. Carrion crows and magpies rummaged about in the verges, jackdaws and ring-necked parakeets made a racket in the trees in the parkland and the golf course and squirrels scampered about as if there weren't a host of dogs being taken on their lunchtime walkies. A nuthatch kept calling in the avenue of trees but I couldn't place it. I had a bit more luck, eventually, pinpointing the singing song thrush. It was a very pleasant walk.

Duke's Drive

A family of long-tailed tits bounced through the trees as I approached the old Worsley Station and a goldcrest struggled to make itself heard against a background of blue tits, great tits, goldfinches and coal tits. I had no more luck spotting the nuthatch calling by the station than I did the one on Duke's Drive.

For some reason the light at the end of the tunnel

gets smaller the closer you get.

The passage through the little tunnel under Worsley Road marked a change, the robins still sang but there wasn't a lot else about.

I climbed the steps up to the path through the woods to Old Warke Dam. A mixed tit flock including a troupe of long-tailed tits bounced quietly through the trees, I actually saw a nuthatch this time. Unlike the chaffinches, which invariably saw me first.

Climbing up to the woodland path

The Aviary at Old Wark Dam 

I heard the teal on the dam pool well before I got there. There were only half a dozen of them but their whistles penetrated the woodland. I arrived at the lake to find the usual motley crew of mallards, coots and black-headed gulls. Interestingly my walking down to the end of the pier to look over the other side of the pool didn't worry the teal one bit so I got some close photos of them.

Teal

Coot

I carried on walking past Old Warke Dam back into Worsley Woods and dropped down to Worsley Brook. Unsurprisingly the going was very muddy. Woodpigeons, magpies and parakeets clattered about in the trees. There were plenty of blue tits, great tits, robins and blackbirds about but it was the coal tits doing all the singing.

Worsley Brook 

Velvet shanks, I think

I was taking some photographs of fungi on a fallen tree when a grey wagtail came to see what I was doing.

Grey wagtail 

Further along a dozen mallards were chased off the brook by a frisky and already very wet labrador.

Walking up from the brook

I climbed the steps up from the brook and walked into Worsley for the bus back to the Trafford Centre. Canada geese and moorhens puttered about on the canal at Worsley Delph and the jackdaws had started going to bed. Given the weather I was inclined to follow suit but I had a social engagement later on so I had to trust in the revivifying nature of a pot of tea. Which worked, as it always does.