Cutacre

Coltsfoot

It strikes me, frequently, how much of my birdwatching life is spent standing at bus stops. It struck me again today as I stood watching the buzzard floating over Davyhulme as I waited for a bus — any bus! — to the Trafford Centre with a view to my going over to Leigh for a wander round Pennington Flash. The pigeons were very anti the idea of the buzzard floating about and the pair of herring gulls fossicking about the flower beds on the roundabout weren't any too impressed either.

At last a bus arrived and went back the way I came because of diversions. When we eventually arrived at the Trafford Centre I could have waited half an hour for the next 126 or I could get the 132 that was ready for off and try to connect with a bus to Leigh en route. I got the 132. I started worrying about what time I would get to Pennington Flash, I started stressing about just wanting to get off and get a walk in while the weather was okay. I gave up on Pennington Flash, stayed on the bus as far as Hough Lane and walked up Cleworth Hall Lane to Cutacre.

Cleworth Hall Lane 

Robins, great tits, woodpigeons and starlings sang in gardens as I walked up the lane. Beyond the stables of Cleworth Hall Farm the lane became February muddy and the hedgerows filled with small birds. Most of the shadows creeping through the hawthorns were robins or blue tits, an occasional wren, dunnock or blackbird. Goldfinches twittered in trees and a flock of greenfinches fussed about in a stand of hawthorns at the corner of a field. Further on a bunch of black-headed gulls were buzzing about over a corner of a field, it turned out they were harassing a heron lurking by a pool for some reason or other I couldn't work out. Whatever it was, a common gull came and joined in the fun.

When I was a kid the primary mortal dangers of adulthood we were taught to fear were tarantulas, poison darts and quicksand. I have, naturally, learned to poo-poo all that as so much nonsense. Which is a bit embarrassing when you realise you've nothing sharp with which to hack off your foot and you're at an age where you no longer have the dexterity required to gnaw it off. Luckily, a blackthorn twig just within reach provided enough anchorage for me to break the seal and retrieve both foot and boot from a muddy grave.

The walls of the bridge had the full set: spleenwort, maidenhair, polypody and hart's tongue.

At the end of the lane I only had a short wade to the concrete safety of the railway bridge. I crossed over and watched a buzzard being given a hard time by a herring gull as they both circled high on the thermals. I walked past a couple of muddy pools, upsetting a couple of moorhens in each, and through the scrappy bit of woodland into the open rucks. It had been looking like rain, on and off, all day. There was five seconds of light rain then the weather decided it couldn't be bothered with it.

Cutacre Country Park
This is an old open-cast mine and spoil, the landscaping's pretty good.

Shakerley Brook 

I skirted Skylark Hill, though in the event it would have been less effort to climb up then coast down the metalled path to Swan Lake. The squelching about wasn't so bad, though, and the skylarks and a meadow pipit struck poses long enough for me to get the camera in focus on them, but only that long. I may start a portfolio of blurs in the grass. A male kestrel quartered the flooded terraces above Shakerley Brook but didn't seem to be having much luck. He may have been the reason why the pipits rummaging about on the bank of the brook were keeping to the long grass.

Herring gulls, lesser black-backs and great black-back 

Herring gulls 

Herring gulls dominated Swan Lake, both in numbers and noise. Canada geese tried to shout above them, the mallards, coots, mute swans and lesser black-backs pottered about quietly while a great black-back lurked ominously by the island. The ducks and coots kept a wide berth, the herring gulls showed it uncharacteristic respect. A pair of oystercatchers flew in, performed a bit of token courtship wittering about then decided that seeing as their beaks were already pointed downwards they might as well get something to eat.

Engine Lane 

The walk along Engine Lane into Atherton was accompanied by the songs of robins, great tits, wrens and dunnocks and the calls of black-headed gulls and herring gulls circling overhead before heading wherever to roost. I would guess they'd mostly be heading for Pennington Flash. I'd unwound more than plenty enough to have not minded not getting there myself.