Urmston

The long-tailed tits by Old Eeas Brook were nest-building

It was another gloriously sunny day. I'd had two pretty intense days' birdwatching and was still feeling the effects of yesterday's travelling and late homecoming but I had plans for the day. Then I sat myself down and reminded myself that this isn't a job. It would do no harm to chill out for the day. So I had a wander about locally. The spadgers in the back garden made a point of letting me know I needed to pick up a bag of sunflower seeds on the way home.

House sparrow
I think this lad's coming up to his third birthday this year. 

I walked over to Cob Kiln Wood. The gardens along the way were noisy with magpies and robins, the rooftops and trees busy with starlings, jackdaws and woodpigeons, and great tits and robins sang in the allotments. I'm going to be doing a lot of my birdwatching by ear this Spring.

Old Eeas Brook 

Old Eeas Brook was running high. Titmice and blackbirds bounced through the trees while robins sang and parakeets screeched and woodpigeons clattered about. 

Cob Kiln Wood 

Chiffchaffs and a song thrush joined in the chorus as I walked past the dragonfly pond. Somebody's given it a clear-out and it looks like it might not dry out completely this year. Just beyond, the warm weather had opened the alder cones and a mixed flock of goldfinches, great tits and blue tits was hoovering up the seeds from the path. They dispersed as I apologised and walked past but were back again when I was barely five paces ahead.

Comma

The brambles in the electricity pylon clearing were busy with butterflies and long-tailed tits. A great spotted woodpecker drummed in the trees and a couple of buzzards circled on the thermals overhead. Blackthorn and wild cherry were in full bloom, comfrey leaves were poking out of the frost-blackened debris, even the path at the top of the steps down to Cob Kiln Lane was only muddy. All the signs of Spring were there, including drifts of primroses on the banks and carpeting swathes of cuckoo pint leaves under the trees. I must remember to come back in a couple of weeks' time to see if there are any buds showing, I'd expect the flowers in April or early May but the seasons and the calendar aren't aligning anymore. It promises to be spectacular when it happens and I want to catch it.

Peacock 

Primroses 

The walk down Cob Kiln Lane to the river was punctuated by robins, wrens and great tits. The robins were in fearless mode, giving passing dogs and people hard stares at close quarters.

Robin

Cob Kiln Lane 

Looking downstream from the weir

The Mersey was high, making the salmon ladder by the weir pretty much redundant. I didn't think I'd be seeing much on the river in these conditions so it was a nice surprise to see a pair of goosanders fishing over the shoals downstream before retreating to the bankside for a rest.

Goosanders

I walked back down Cob Kiln Lane. I fancied a walk round Urmston Meadows and on a whim I decided not to walk into town and past the cemetery, instead I'd take the rough paths between the river and Old Eeas Brook. I wouldn't ordinarily do this in Winter or Spring but the weather's been mostly dry this past few weeks so I thought I'd take a chance.

The old, mostly dried-up, ox-bow 

Is it so very long ago that this was open meadow with linnets singing in trees and skylarks singing overhead? Well, yes, it was a long time ago. There are still open patches of grassland with brambles round the edges though the riverside has been invaded by Japanese knotweed. Wrens, dunnocks and long-tailed tits fidgeted about in the brambles. Some of the wrens and dunnocks stopped to sing. Some of the long-tailed tits had beakfuls of moss and if they saw that I saw them they'd make themselves very conspicuous as they turned and flitted away from the nest site before zipping back under cover of leaves.

It must be forty years since I last took the low road on this path outside a midsummer drought. It'll probably be forty years before I do it again. The high road involves playing Tarzan among the elder bushes, hollies and willows to get over the collapsed gaps. 

Chiffchaffs and a song thrush sang in the trees by the open ground. I followed the main path into the trees by the old ox-bow lake which is now mostly just a muddy deep depression. A flock of redwings stole through the canopy, they're definitely in migration mode now and only stopping to eat. Robins and chaffinches sang by the path. I'll have to remind myself of the subtle differences in tone and tempo between blackcaps and garden warblers and be wary of robins: the one at the station has retained its willow warbler descent at the end of its song and quite a few of the local robins have blackcap-like trills in their warm-ups. I was so intent on delivering this homily to myself I almost didn't notice that the bird singing in the elder bush by the path was my first blackcap of the year.

The ox-bow lake by Urmston Beach

I'm old enough to remember when the current ox-bow lake was still, just, technically a river meander and was only an isolated lake in Summer. A pair of mallards seemed to have it to themselves as they dozed and preened under the roots of a very old willow.

Old Eeas Brook 

I crossed the bridge over Old Eeas Brook, which was looking younger and more vigorous than it did upstream in its rush to meet the river. It was a short walk past the corner of the cemetery to the path into Urmston Meadows.

Blackthorn 

Urmston Meadows 

The woodland beside the meadows was noisy with song. Coal tits and goldcrests joined the soundscape though the latter struggled to be heard over the robins and wrens. More redwings passed through the trees. Bullfinches whistled as they disbudded wild cherries, chaffinches pinked as dog walkers went by but ignored dogless pedestrians, and somewhere in the background a ring-necked parakeet was shouting the odds. A nuthatch called from some of the younger trees between the fields. A kestrel was harassed by jackdaws in another corner. Magpies, jackdaws and carrion crows shadowed the horses in the fields. Watching them I wondered how long it would be before I'd be seeing a cattle egret here. That thought reminded me to keep an eye out for little egrets though I didn't see one today. 

Urmston Meadows 

A moorhen pottered about in the damp corner of one of the fields. I followed the path beside the field drains hoping for a sight of a water vole but not even seeing much sign of their being about.

It had been a nice, laid-back afternoon stroll. I headed into Urmston and made my way home.