Home thoughts

We're at that peculiar time of year in the garden: I know things are going on out there but I have scant evidence for it. The bird feeders are being visited because I can see the whittling down of the last of the sunflower seeds and suet cones. The blackcap spends most of the day singing, the robin and wren sing intermittently, the blackbird at sunrise and sunset, and the collared dove and woodpigeons have no particular schedule and some days don't even bother. 

The titmice have gone dead quiet, even the male great tit isn't announcing his arrival as usual. Unlike the oldest cock sparrow who makes a particular fanfare of his arrival. He then parades himself between the boysenberries in the corner, each feeder in turn then surveys the garden from the top of the roses before disappearing into next door's ivy. If I haven't been noticed watching the performance the others come in for a quick scoff, arriving in twos and threes and never stopping more than a couple of minutes. I've never seen this behaviour before, I don't know if it's a novelty or I just haven't been noticing it until now.

I suspect there are young blackbirds coming into the garden. I know there are young dunnocks because I saw one of them today, fresh and downy and accompanied by an adult which left it deep in the gooseberry bushes while a cat needed to be chased out of the garden. Job done, the youngster was brought out into the open to be fed greenfly. And so life goes on.

Flixton

Black-headed gull and common tern, Irlam Locks

It was a grey and gloomy sort of day with the sun making occasional weak attempts at glowing through the cloud. The wind was gentler and warmer than it had been and it would have been good walking weather if I could have summoned up the energy to get my act together. I couldn't so I settled for a longer than usual potter about Wellacre Country Park.

I got the train into Flixton and walked down to Flixton Bridge where a pair of drake mallards dozed on the river and the songs of blackbirds, robins, great tits and chiffchaffs battled to be heard over a song thrush in a sycamore tree.

Starting up Green Hill 

There was more of the same songscape as I walked onto Green Hill with blackcaps and wrens adding to the mix. As I walked up the hill whitethroats contented themselves with churring from bramble patches. Partway up I looked over the fields towards Flixton Road which were littered with woodpigeons, jackdaws and carrion crows. A couple of lapwings looked to have set up a territory and a pair of pheasants strutted along one of the field margins. Overhead a buzzard got a carrion crow and jackdaws escort over into Carrington.

Green Hill 

For all that the weather was unpromising there were plenty of bees and butterflies about. Rather a lot to my surprise a painted lady was basking in the weak sun in the middle of the path. My efforts at tiptoeing past it didn't succeed and it flew onto some nearby brambles to resume its sunbathing.

Painted lady

Swallows and starlings dashed about overhead, the swallows new arrivals likely to be nesting in the stables below the hill, the starlings with mouths to feed in the nearby housing estate.

Dutton's Pond was very quiet indeed save for the mallards. The poor old duck had six drakes in attendance. There's always someone worse off than yourself.

The songscape resumed as I walked down to Jack Lane though actually seeing any of the singers in the trees on the railway embankment was a lot easier said than done. The absence of any blackbirds along this stretch was unusual.

Red campion

Jack Lane Nature Reserve 

There were plenty of blackbirds on Jack Lane Nature Reserve. And reed warblers, three singing on one side of the path and one on the other. And for a change I saw a couple of them. None of them were singing by the nest sites I clocked last year, which is probably sensible: if I knew where they were so would the local magpies. I thought I was going to miss out on the Cetti's warbler but it was singing from the brambles next to the field at the edge of the reserve. There was a minutes' worth of duet as a sedge warbler joined in from somewhere close to the Cetti's and I muttered under my breath as my trying to record them coincided with the passage of the police helicopter overhead and the Cleethorpes train to my left. Still, it was good to hear them.

The spadgers which usually bounce in and out of the hawthorns along Jack Lane were keeping a very low profile while goldfinches sang in the trees. The fields were busy with woodpigeons, magpies, carrion crows and starlings and I could still hear the Cetti's warbler singing from the nature reserve as I walked into Town Gate.

I walked down Irlam Road to the Locks. The spadgers in the hedgerows along here were as boisterous as ever. The sand martins and swallows were busy hawking overhead, rarely settling on the telegraph wires and never for very long. There was a mass of chattering as a mixed flock of hirundines chased a sparrowhawk over the Ship Canal, a performance repeated a few minutes later when they decided a woodpigeon looked a bit iffy.

Manchester Ship Canal 
Back in the day a ferry would shuttle from the pier I'm standing on to the one opposite.

Great crested grebes

A lone mute swan cruised on the canal, there weren't many mallards about and no coots, gadwalls or tufted ducks. There were a bunch of great crested grebes mostly asleep upstream of the locks, a very noisy male grebe drifted to one side of the group and made rude noises at old men passing by. The common terns were also very noisy, with one pair getting to know each other on the lockside. There weren't many black-headed gulls about and even fewer pigeons. For a while the pigeons were outnumbered by the pair of stock doves flying past the stables.

Common terns and mallards

Looking downstream from the locks I could see a handful of immature cormorants drying their wings at the side of one of the basins. Adults were flying over three at a time and all seemed headed for Woolston Eyes. A few mallards and grebes drifted on the water and a heron stalked the bank.

Irlam Locks 

As I walked back down Irlam Road the martins congregated on the telegraph wires after mobbing a passing herring gull, an oystercatcher made a racket as it flew up the canal and a whitethroat sang from one of the hawthorns. I got to the bus terminus as the 256 pulled in. I'd expected a bit of a gentle potter about but it turned out to be a very productive afternoon's birdwatching.

Sand martins savouring their victory over a herring gull

Pennington Flash

Canada goose and little ringed plover

It was a greyer sort of a day than it has been lately but still not unpleasant. I dawdled about all morning then got the buses over to Pennington Flash for an afternoon wander.

Jay

Robins, great tits and blackbirds dominated the songscape on the way in from St Helens Road. Blue tits, wrens, chaffinches and goldfinches quietly went about their business, magpies and woodpigeons made a lot of noise about it. A jay silently escorted me past its territory. 

Pennington Flash
We're early into the butterflies and landscape photography phase of the year.

Pennington Flash 

The car park was Summer quiet, small groups of mallards, Canada geese and black-headed gulls loafing about, coots chugging past like freight trains past a colliery. There were more coots out on the flash, together with a small raft of lesser black-backs and a few herring gulls and great crested grebes. A couple of common terns made a disproportionate amount of noise as they fished around the buoys. There were a lot of small, dark shapes almost skimming the top of the water, it took me a while to be sure they were all sand martins the light was so dull.

Ruff (left) and little ringed plover
The little ringed plover showing how suitable its plumage is on its preferred freshwater shingle. Luckily they are mostly insanely active and they catch the eye as they run about.

At the F.W.Horrocks Hide a chap put me onto the couple of distant black-necked grebes on the flash and four ruffs on the spit. All the ruffs looked like females (calling them reeves seems to be going out of fashion) and a couple of them were strikingly plumaged with wings and backs like a black and tawny checkerboard. Reeves' plumages aren't anywhere near as variable as their male counterparts but they can provide plenty enough confusion seen own their own in an unfamiliar context. They're not common at Pennington Flash but at least they're on the radar. A couple of little ringed plovers flew in and there were a couple of common sandpipers rummaging about in the shingle further back. At one point there were five ruffs and four little ringed plovers skittering about, which is very good to see here. None of them came very close.

Little ringed plover, ruff and Canada goose

A few lapwings, cormorants and lesser black-backs loafed at the end of the spit. Woodpigeons and mallards rummaged about in the vegetation on top. Looking over towards Ramsdales there was a lot of noise and activity from the black-headed gulls on the nesting raft. Shovelers and gadwalls took some finding, I didn't see a single teal all afternoon. This time of year that's strangely encouraging.

The chiffchaffs in the trees were mostly being as quiet and unobtrusive as the titmice. Unlike the reed warblers and Cetti's warbler singing by the Kidney Pool opposite the Tom Edmondson Hide.

The Kidney Pool

At first sight it was quiet on the pool in front of the Tom Edmondson Hide. Canada geese and coots dozed, a couple of gadwalls and shovelers drifted by and into the reeds and on to Pengy's Pool. An extremely dapper male dabchick, all polished mahogany with rusty highlights, made a brief appearance before disappearing into the reeds when a heron flew over. Then a pair of magpies found a moorhens' nest. Sound and fury there was much. The magpies were unsuccessful this time but I wouldn't lay odds on any eggs in the nest lasting very long.

From the Tom Edmondson Hide 

From Ramsdales Hide 

The scrape at Ramsdales looked even dozier at first. Canada geese and mallards slept on the banks. Lapwings wandered about apparently aimlessly, which usually means they have a working nest wherever it is they aren't walking and whichever bird isn't sitting is keeping vigil. I eventually spotted one sitting female on a nest. There will have been more I missed. A couple of little ringed plovers had been quietly dashing about on the mud. This all changed when a third flew in. For the next ten minutes two of them flew about chasing each other round the place, calling loudly all the while. I made no attempt whatever to get a photo, I knew when I was beaten and just settled back to watch the show.

Pennington Flash 

A little gull had been reported on the flash at lunchtime so I wandered back to try my luck. I sat on a bench by the F.W.Horrocks Hide and scanned around. If there was a little gull still about it was either over by the rucks or the sailing club, it certainly wasn't in sight from here. Black-headed gulls and common terns wheeled about catching midges and the distant cloud of sand martins had been joined by at least a dozen swifts. Then I had a bit of luck. One of the terns didn't look quite right. Usually, especially in flat grey light like today, that means I'm seeing it at a funny angle and if I keep tabs on it awhile it'll turn out to look exactly the same as the others. Except this time it didn't, it was uniform silver grey above and had bright white underwings. My first Arctic tern of the year. They're regular but uncommon visitors and I nearly always miss them as they pass through so I was quite chuffed to pick one up today.

Walking back to St Helens Road 

I wandered back for the bus into Leigh, the rain started as the 126 passed through Astley and fizzled out as we got to the Trafford Centre. It was obviously one of my luckier days.

Reddish Vale

Mandarin duck

The energy for plans A and B still eluded me. It was yet another splendid Spring day, the wind was warmer, I felt I really should make something of it. I got the train into town with a half-formed idea of getting a train to New Mills or Glossop and the bus into Hayfield for a dawdle along the Sett Valley, which is how I came to be on the Sheffield train. I didn't stay on to New Mills. As we passed along the viaduct over the Tame I looked down on Reddish Vale Country Park and decided that was today's walk. So I got off at Brinnington and walked round to the footpath entrance on Blackberry Lane.

Reddish Vale Country Park 

The reader has probably become weary of my listing what has become the standard Greater Manchester songscape of blackbirds, blackcaps, chiffchaffs, dunnocks, great tits, robins, wrens and woodpigeons. I never weary of hearing it and hope I never do. Hearing isn't seeing mind, and even with the oaks and ashes barely breaking bud I was seeing perhaps a tenth of what I was hearing. Invisible whitethroats churred from hawthorns smothered in may blossom, long-tailed tits tutted from ivy-decked branches and tree canopies hid chaffinches, goldfinches and greenfinches. I had the consolation that the butterflies weren't a bit shy and were numerous and showy, the orange tips, small whites and large whites fluttering about the open and the grassy verges, the red admirals about the woodland edges and already extensive nettle patches.

Brinnington Beach and the Manchester to Sheffield railway

Mallard and ducklings

I walked down to Brinnington Beach, where the Tame turns on two sixpences before going under the viaduct. A mandarin duck and a kingfisher shot upstream, mallards drifted downstream. A platoon of mallard ducklings were being marched along the opposite bank by their mother.

Grey wagtail

I'd kept hearing grey wagtails but didn't see them until after I'd passed under the viaduct. A male was fly-catching from the river, flying up and snatching insects in mid-air before settling back down by the banks.

Grey wagtail

I almost missed the young wagtail fossicking about on the far bank.

Juvenile grey wagtail

The pond

A wave of sand martins descended over the river, a few house martins joining the crowd by the bridge back into historical Lancashire. I crossed over and had a nosy round the pond.

Coot

Coots were on nests, mallards had duckling entourages and a heron lurking on the far bank had a youngster in tow. I wasn't sure whether or not a mandarin duck was on a nest or not and wasn't for disturbing her to find out one way or another. Her drake walked over my way and gave me a hard stare, just in case. More mandarins pottered about on the pond. For some reason one of the coots had an intense dislike of unpaired drake mandarins and would charge across the pond to have a go at any that caught its eye.

Mandarin drake

I walked down Reddish Vale Road into Reddish for the bus into Stockport and thence home (it was the approach to rush hour(s) and I wanted to avoid the city centre). Male woodpigeons had fights in the trees, barging and clattering into each other until one backed off and flew away. In one case it was a good five minutes before the fight was conceded and there was a carpet of leaves and twigs on the ground to commemorate the bout. The standard Greater Manchester songscape prevailed, decorated by the twitterings of swallows as they hawked over grazing horses. I got to the bus stop on Reddish Road and watched the holly blues fluttering about the hedges as I waited for the bus.

Woodpigeons squaring up for more fisticuffs

Dovestone Reservoir

Mallards and ducklings

I had no intention of going for a walk round Dovestone Reservoir.

Something happens every year and it comes as a surprise every year. I've been wondering what's been up with me this week, until this morning when I went out into the back garden to see if we have a winner in the First Rose of the Year stakes (we do, it's "A Touch of Blue" and it's still only April). My eyes started to feel scratchy and the penny dropped. The pollen count is moderate but the grass-cutting count is high and the hay fever season is upon us once again. Like the first rose, it gets earlier every year. With me the first onset manifests as a feeling that all my strings have been cut and it never dawns on me it's hay fever until the itchy symptoms hit. You'd think I'd know by now. Having established I hadn't got the dreaded lurgi or Murgatroyd's twinges I could just ignore it and get on with things. I didn't have the energy for Plan A or Plan B for today so I got a pot of tea down me, got the lunchtime train into town and headed East, because I am very conscious nearly all this month's birdwatching has been westbound.

Reports early in the morning of a singing wood warbler that came and went quickly at Birchwood reminded me that there's sometimes a chance of finding one singing at Binn Green, by Dovestone Reservoir, and if I was tremendously lucky there might also be a ring ousel passing through. The odds were very long but a dawdle up Holmfirth Road in the sunshine had an appeal. I checked the bus times, I could get off the train at Mossley, get the 350 to The Clarence at the bottom of Holmfirth Road and save myself the walk across Greenfield. And so I did. It took about ten minutes longer but I had more energy to put into having a bit of an explore.

By Holmfirth Road 

The walk up Holmfirth Road was very pleasant indeed. The gradient creeps up on you, I tend not to realise until I notice I'm looking into tree canopies by the roadside. Along the way robins, wrens and blackcaps kept a constant chorus with solos by chaffinches, nuthatches and a coal tit. Woodpigeons clattered about in the trees, blue tits and great tits fidgeted through the undergrowth and the sheep in the fields were accompanied by jackdaws and the occasional mistle thrush. 

Looking over to Chew Valley
The sliver of blue is Dovestone Reservoir 

Dovestone Edge 

Dovestone Reservoir 

Rising higher, chiffchaffs and goldfinches, then willow warblers joined the chorus. Pairs of stock doves joined the woodpigeons and jackdaws in the fields, and some of the jackdaws had youngsters in tow. The wind was brisk, the orange tips and brimstones flying low to the grass to avoid the fate of the leaves whizzing and tumbling down the road. Stopping to admire the view and take photographs included the very real risk of being brained by pine cones.

As Dovestones Reservoir came properly into view so did the handful of Canada geese cruising about at the car park end.

Nicely weathered millstone grit atop Alderman's Hill

Approaching Binn Green I kept scanning the hilltops, just in case any ring ousels or wheatears wanted to make an appearance. They didn't, but don't look, don't see. The woodland was almost invisibly busy: the songscape was rich in robins, chiffchaffs, willow warblers, wrens and chaffinches; every so often I'd see a blue tit or great tit fidget through the conifers and a small flock of goldfinches fussed about the treetops. I almost missed the handful of siskins, their contact calls almost drowned out by a sudden rush of traffic noise.

Bilberry

Binn Green 

I pottered about the rocks at Binn Green admiring the view, listening to the birds, accidentally upsetting meadow pipits, and trying to use trees and rocks as windbreaks and finding it a lost cause. Trying to take photos of the scenery and the bilberries in flower whilst being buffeted by the wind was a challenge to put it mildly. Some hardy souls were walking the tops of Dovestone Edge opposite, I wondered if they might be slightly potty.

Halfway down the steps

I dropped down into relative shelter and found myself walking down the steps to the bottom. I wondered if this was wise, especially when the knees wondered how I was getting back up again. I wasn't going back up the steps, that was for sure. I'd have to walk up the service road back to Holmfirth Road. While I was here I thought I'd walk down to the dam between Yeoman Hey and Dovestone reservoirs and have a nosy.

Yeoman Hey Reservoir 

The wind was very bracing and bursts of white horses skimmed across the reservoirs. A house martin shot headlong into the wind and flew up the valley, the first of a small and fitful passage of house martins and sand martins heading for the wilds of Yorkshire. A couple of drake mallards cruised along the bankside on Yeoman Hey while a very busy pied wagtail fussed about the bottom of the dam, flitting from side to side. At first I thought he was servicing a nestful of mouths on one or other side but in the end I had to conclude he had the fidgets. As did a common sandpiper which tired of rummaging about the bankside and flew over the dam to bob about on the banks of Dovestone Reservoir.

Dovestone Reservoir 

I was going to turn round and walk back so I walked over the dam to the other side to admire the scenery and took the path that runs alongside Dovestone Reservoir to the car park. Like you do.

Reed bunting

There was barely a cloud in the sky, the sun was bright, the light electric, the scenery splendid and the wind at my back. I half-expected Lilian Gish to pass by in a flurry of sticks and leaves. I stopped by one of the long drains feeding the reservoir, just in case a dipper or grey wagtail might be taking advantage of the facilities. Robins and reed buntings caught insects on the pavings and pairs of goldfinches flew in for a drink. A very skittish grey wagtail was working the outflow at the end.

Dovestone Edge and inlet drain

Black-headed gulls and jackdaws passed overhead. Great tits, robins and willow warblers sang from the small plantations along the bank. Greenfinches and bullfinches called softly before disappearing into the trees as I passed, blackbirds and wrens struck poses and sang their defiance. Every so often I'd bump into a pheasant, more often I heard cocks in the background calling rivals into battle.

Dovestone Reservoir 

Walking by the reservoir 

Chew Valley 

Any thoughts that it might be less windy as I descended towards the car park and the dam were knocked on the head as I reached the mouth of the Chew Valley. The path turns 90°, instead of having the wind on my back blowing down from Yeoman Hey I had a much stronger wind blowing in my face from up tops. Any frivolous ideas that I might take the path and go up a bit into the valley swiftly put themselves back in the box.

A pair of mallards and their ducklings rummaged about the jackdaws in a field by the path. More mallards lounged on the bank by the car park and swallows whizzed about the dam. They looked and behaved like fixtures rather than the passing martins.

Walking back to Holmfirth Road
The topmost line of trees is the road. 

I walked up the lane and rejoined the songscape on Holmfirth Road which was as loud and busy as it was on my way up. I stopped to take a photo and was startled by a sharp tap on the top of my head as an oak tree jettisoned a leafy stick. "Berk!" said the sheep from across the road. They were probably right.