West Kirby

Brent goose

It was a mild, wet day and I decided to have a visit to the seaside to get some of the cobwebs out of my head. I left behind a pile of feeders being plundered by a couple of dozen house sparrows and a dozen goldfinches and the return of three chaffinches — a male and two females — that first dropped by yesterday afternoon.

I decided to head for West Kirby, the tide would be a bit too low for finding waders at New Brighton or the stretch between Leasowe and Hoylake but they tend to feed in the estuary by West Kirby and there's always the chance of something at the marine lake.

Rather than hanging round Lime Street waiting for the West Kirby train I got the New Brighton train, got off at Birkenhead North and waited there. There's nearly always a fair number of herring gulls about here. I'd always assumed it was due to the proximity of the docks. Checking the local bird reports to see what was about I found that there's a recycling depot just down the road from the station car park. Three Caspian gulls had been reported and I was tempted to nip over in the rain and try my luck. Then the train arrived and I decided I'd give it a go on my way back.

West Kirby Marine Lake 

The rain fizzled out and the sun poked its way through holes in the cloud as I arrived at West Kirby and walked down to the marine lake. I'd no sooner got there when I noticed a dozen pale-bellied brent geese nibbling at the eel grass just off the slipway. A chap asked me if I'd seen the scaup that had been on the lake, he'd had no luck and he'd bumped into another birdwatcher who'd fared no better. I wished him better luck and set off on the sea wall path around the lake.

Brent geese

The brent geese were remarkably confiding, if they were rarities they'd immediately have been dismissed as escapes from a collection. As it was, they were genuinely wild birds that weren't much fussed by people but quietly drifted out into the water at the first sight of a passing dog. They weren't camera-shy either though it was hard work getting myself between them and the sun.

Brent geese

Brent geese

Brent geese

Brent geese

Looking over the Dee Estuary to Wales

West Kirby Marine Lake 

Redshanks

As expected there were plenty of waders on the estuary, thinly dispersed but not as thinly as they would be at Hoylake or Meols. Redshanks skittered about near the marine lake, further out towards the River Dee curlews and groups of oystercatchers probed the mud. Turning and looking out over to Hilbre all I could identify were the carrion crows dotted about the sands.

Redshanks 

Redshanks 

I was having no luck finding a scaup, either. A pair of goldeneyes were the only ducks I was finding out there. They were a nice consolation prize, I don't often get to see them on the Wirral.

Halfway round I bumped into a second, smaller, gaggle of brents. They were heading off to join the others. It struck me that all the geese were silent, even when the two groups eventually got together.

There were plenty of herring gulls about and they weren't shy of letting everyone know they were about, shouting the odds at they flew about or calling from rooftops. The few black-headed gulls that were about were mostly content to quietly loaf by the lake.

Brent geese 

Brent goose 
I think, from the uniformly grey flanks and indistinct collar this is a first-Winter bird.

I reached the top curve and looked up the estuary. Shelducks, curlews and oystercatchers wandered about the open mud, redshanks skittered about in creeks and puddles. A flock of knots rose and fell by the distant river, a couple of knots were closer to hand on the mud. Most of the small figures dashing about between the shelducks were dunlins though I managed to pick up a couple of ringed plovers. I had no luck finding turnstones on the rocks or about the lake.

Looking up the Dee Estuary 

I completed the circuit of the lake. Cormorants and the goldeneyes were the only diving birds I'd been seeing. The brent geese had split up again, one group staying by the slipway and the other chugging along beside the sea wall. The chap I'd bumped into was on the promenade, he'd not seen the scaup but was happy to have seen the goldeneyes, which is plenty fair enough.

I headed back and got off at Birkenhead North. I didn't hold out much luck at finding any Caspian gulls in a crowd at a recycling centre but I'd have no chance at all if I didn't try. I gave all the herring gulls in the car park a good staring at, it would be just like me to walk past my quarry en route. They were all herring gulls, including a surprisingly young looking bird begging and still being fed by its parent.

I'd walked up to Wallasey Bridge Road when a cloud of herring gulls rose from the recycling depot and circled round. I had mixed feelings: while it made it more likely I might be able to find anything that wasn't a herring gull while they were all wheeling about in flight, they were all wheeling about in a big crowd. A lone great black-back stood out like a sore thumb, its size alone calling attention to itself. Then I saw something a bit big for a herring gull but entirely the wrong shape for a great black-back, as if someone had stretched a herring gull by holding it by the head and tail and pulling. It definitely wasn't an adult bird and wasn't a first-Winter either, I've seen Caspian gulls of these ages and been comfortable ageing them. I tentatively aged this as a third-Winter bird by the white head and streaky neck. 

The train arrived at Lime Street ten minutes before my direct train home. I took the hint and went home. I'd had a very pleasant walk, added to the year list and I'd been luckier than I deserved with that Caspian gull.