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.

Marbury and the flashes

Goldcrest, Marbury Country Park 

It was a cool, grey morning with a biting wind. I'd decided it was high time I went for a wander round Marbury Country Park and the Northwich flashes. Oddly, I found an early report of a couple of black-necked stilts on Ashton's Flash a bit off-putting, which is ridiculous, they're lovely birds to see. I stuck to the plan, noticing along the way that the reports of the birds were jumping between the flashes and Budworth Mere. Whatever. I was going for my walk and it might or might not involve stilts.

The choice, as always was to get the Chester train to Northwich and walk up or the 9a bus from Warrington straight to the entrance to Marbury Country Park. Trains and buses being as they are, there's a fifty minute wait for the 9a in Warrington but it's a simpler and more reliable connection for me than trying to get the Chester train and I can hit the ground running, so that's what I chose.

I got off the bus at Marbury Hall Nurseries and had a quick glance over the road at Kennel Wood where the woodpigeons and jackdaws were flying around and blackbirds, chiffchaffs, willow warblers and robins sang.

Marbury Country Park 

There was more of the same as I entered the country park and walked through the arboretum to Budworth Mere. Blackcaps, robins and wrens predominated but had plenty of competition from chiffchaffs, blackbirds and nuthatches. Blue tits and goldcrests quietly sang to themselves in the trees, great tits scolded passersby and dunnocks silently skittered around under bushes. It was a tad busy.

Dunnock

Budworth Mere 

It was damned cold by Budworth Mere, the wind was Skegness bracing. This didn't stop a reed warbler singing in the reeds, nor any of the other warblers singing in the trees by the mere. Tufted ducks, coots and mallards cruised about, great crested grebes dozed in small groups and a kingfisher shot across the water into the trees on the opposite bank. Midway across the opposite bank Canada geese and greylags loafed in the company of a bunch of lesser black-backs and a couple of shelducks. A few black-headed gulls flew about and a common tern fished just offshore.

Mallards

Tufted duck on a choppy mere

Bluebells,  Wood 

I wandered on and into Big Wood as the sun started to flirt with the idea of making a sustained appearance. The birdsong continued with song thrushes, chaffinches, goldfinches and greenfinches joining the chorus. A treecreeper kept coming down to the path to collect nesting materials, zipping off every time the camera got it in focus. I gave up after a couple of minutes, I was too close to the nest for both our comfort.

Bluebells and windflowers

A chap told me to look out for a green woodpecker in the field on the other side of Big Wood and I thanked him greatly. We don't get a lot of green woodpeckers round our way and I've yet to get one on the year list. I turned and headed for the field, past carpets of bluebells and a mistle thrush singing in the trees.

Blackcap

Marbury Country Park 

A whitethroat sang in a hawthorn bush as I reached the path that runs between the wood and the field and  I started scanning round. I kept finding the same woodpigeons, mistle thrush and magpie. I know from experience that though green woodpeckers are big and bright lime green with red splashes about the face they can be surprisingly inconspicuous when they're pillaging ants' nests so I kept looking. Walking down a bit there were carrion crows and rabbits, then a song thrush bounced through the patches of sedge in a field of rough pasture, and then a couple of blackbirds. Then I heard a green woodpecker. The yaffling call was coming from round the corner, stage left. I walked round and scanned that corner of the field. Another magpie. The yaffling resumed, this time from the trees I'd just left behind. I gave it another couple of goes and packed in trying to see the beggar. A call counts for the year list.

Heading for Marbury Lane 

I crossed the canal and walked down onto Marbury Lane. The songscape continued unabated in the trees. A pair of mallards supervised their ducklings from a distance on one of the little ponds, the adults in one corner and the ducklings in another. 

By Marbury Lane 

The sun came out in earnest and all the blackbirds singing in the hedgerows kicked the volume up several notches. Speckled woods, orange tips and brimstones started to flutter along the hedgerows and grassy verges. I noticed some stock doves in a field by the lane. I don't often get the chance to take photos of stock doves close up except at Pennington Flash, here was an opportunity to get some more. One posed obligingly, the sun catching the iridescent green and purple patch on its neck. The camera battery said no, and I'd left the spare battery at home. On the plus side this surely guaranteed I'd get cracking views of the stilts.

Ashton's Flash 

The stilts had been on Ashton's Flash all afternoon so I headed straight there. I walked up to the viewpoint and had a look round. There were mallards, Canada geese, greylags and coots on the pool in the centre of the flash. A bit more searching found some shelducks, teal and moorhens. Half a dozen lesser black-backs stood aloof from half a dozen herring gulls and a handful of black-headed gulls steered clear of both. Reed buntings and reed warblers sang in the reedy scrub and lapwings chased jackdaws off the flash, temporarily. No sign of stilts. There was a group of birdwatchers on the bund between Neumann's Flash and Ashton's Flash and it looked like they had the shallow scrape in the corner in their sights so I walked round.

Ashton's Flash 

"Any luck?" I asked a birdwatcher I'd let onto earlier. He smiled and nodded at the scrape. Mallards, lapwings, oystercatchers… and there in plain sight not fifty yards away a pair of black-necked stilts. They are very lovely birds to see. Even if your camera battery's flat.

Neumann's Flash 

I went over and had a look at Neumann's Flash, tiptoeing past mallard ducklings on the path to the hide. It was quiet on the flash, perhaps a dozen tufted ducks, a handful of grebes dozing in the distance, a pair of shelducks and a few lesser black-backs having a wash in the corner by the bund. Oh, and a reed warbler singing its heart out just in front of the hide.

Gorse

Checking the buses I found I'd just missed the number 9 back to Warrington so I'd have to walk through to the bus interchange in Northwich to get the 9a which was due in half an hour. This was when I realised I'd never got the 9a back to Warrington and didn't know the way to the interchange. Looking it up I found the quickest way was a path through Carey Park which turned out to be a lot more pleasant than walking down Old Warrington Road as I usually do, and it got me into the town centre a lot quicker and easier, too. I must remember this next time.

I didn't have long to wait for the bus. All day it had struck me that I hadn't seen a single hirundine flying about. As the bus wound its way through Antrobus the natural order of things reasserted itself as an angry swallow chased a jackdaw across the road.

Birchwood

Birchwood Forest Park 

I wasn't feeling my brightest and bounciest best, not that I have a brightest and bounciest best but one should show willing. I had no firm plans, or even vague plans, for the day and despite its being a sunny morning I couldn't shake off the lethargy and get out and do something. As a displacement I spent two hours submitting a response to a government consultation, almost certainly a dead waste of time as given the nature of these things everything's been done and dusted and any are you really sure this isn't a tad unwise? questions will be deftly swept under the carpet. I'd hoped that might have prompted an energetic reaction but it wasn't happening. I put my boots on and went to get the train to see where I went. One of the advantages of not having ticket facilities at the station is that you don't have to commit to going anywhere until the guard sells you a ticket on the train.

Birchwood Forest Park is the thin band of woodland acting as a buffer between the housing estate and the railway line by Birchwood Station. I've not stopped and had a proper look round for a bit, it's a nice hour's slow dawdle, this time of year it has the usual complement of suburban singers, I needed a bit of exercise, so I got off the train at and walked round the corner into the park.

Robins, blackbirds and chiffchaffs sang along the roadside. They were joined by blackcaps, wrens and a song thrush as I walked along. Great tits churred and squeaked as I passed, a couple of robins ticked quietly from the depths of holly bushes, blue tits were in ninja mode, only spotted when breaking cover between trees. A lot of the trees were barely breaking bud but I was already struggling to spot small birds that didn't want to be seen. A couple of goldfinches twittered past overhead, more were silhouettes quietly picking insects from the emergent leaves at the tops of ash trees. A great spotted woodpecker made itself known before vanishing into a sycamore.

Spanish bluebells

I decided I wasn't going to walk round for time gentlemen please at Ridley Moss. I had a bit of an explore of the little side paths between the park and the housing estate, picking my way through cow parsley and Spanish bluebells and stepping over fallen trees. All the while watched by robins, magpies and titmice or startled by woodpigeons suddenly erupting from hawthorn bushes.

Wandering back a coal tit added its squeaky toy call to the soundscape and a couple of woodpigeons started singing. 

A blackcap sang over the piped music as I waited for the train back. I felt the better for stretching my legs and getting a bit of sunshine filtered through green leaves. I decided against stopping off along the way for another walk. The dark grey, yellowing clouds that suddenly rolled in confirmed I'd made a sound choice.

Home thoughts

The spadgers are in quiet mode, which is a good sign that there are nests with eggs. It's not often I see more than one in the garden, and most of the time I'm not even seeing that. Once the eggs hatch and there are mouths to feed the sycamores and fruit bushes will be busy with spadgers collecting aphids to feed them and coming to the feeders regularly to get something for themselves. The hens are in and out to the feeders without breaking cover as they snatch a very quick bite before resuming incubation. The cocks are hardly in at all, a couple of the older lads coming along to check everything out for a few minutes. Which reminds me, I must refill the bird baths.

The singers aren't in quiet mode. The blackbird kicks in at four and is joined an hour later by the robin. That's usually my cue to finally doze off. The collared doves, woodpigeons, blackcap, wren and dunnock tend to start singing nearer six o'clock. During the day both the blackbird and the robin are quiet most of the time but have half-hour sessions of almost continuous song around ten, two and six, with occasional apparently random cameo appearances. The other singers, particularly the wren and the dunnock, lean towards random cameos throughout the day. The great tit doesn't get involved in the dawn chorus and just goes for cameos. The extreme form of this is the mistel thrush, which seems to have a huge territory about a mile square. He'll sing in the trees on the embankment or by the school playing field about once a week. We're marginal territory, the core of his activity is the park and the trees by the warehouse next to it. Some years we will be in the centre of a mistle thrush territory, with the birds nesting in the older, bigger trees down the road, but this isn't one of those years.

Elton Reservoir

Elton Reservoir 

I was determined to have a lazy day, get some reading and writing done, make serious inroads on the stocks of tea, that sort of thing. But reports of black terns at Elton Reservoir made me fidgety. Black terns, like little gulls, are capricious and highly mobile Spring passage migrants, they may linger for days or they may be gone in a blink of an eye, you go to see them the first chance you get or you might not get another this year. So I headed over to try my luck.

Daisyfield Greenway
The old Bury to Bolton railway line.

I got off the 471 at Buckingham Drive, walked through the housing estate and cut over the Daisyfield Greenway onto the meadows by the reservoir. Blackbirds, willow warblers, robins and wrens sang in the trees as I passed by.

Elton Reservoir 

Some of the usual gang of mute swans, Canada geese, mallards and coots loafed about near the sailing club, half a dozen pure white fancy pigeons tidied up after a feeding the ducks session. There were a few dozen black-headed gulls out on the water making plenty of noise. Most of them were second calendar year birds moulting into their brown hoods but keeping their juvenile brown scapular feathers on their wings. It took a while to see any black terns, they were out in midwater over near the farmhouse. I reckoned I'd get a better view of them from the other side.

Lesser black-backs and black tern

I walked round onto the Southern edge of the reservoir. I was getting better views of the black terns, four of them, but they were still distant. Every so often they would disappear and I'd eventually find them as black dots sitting on top of buoys. They never lingered long, they spent most of their time feeding on insects over the water, fidgeting and jinking as they chased their prey.

Black tern

An oystercatcher called loudly as it flew low over to the fields beyond. Besides the terns and black-headed gulls on the reservoir there was a small raft of lesser black-backs, a couple of pairs of great crested grebes and a score of mallards. For once I couldn't see any tufted ducks about. Instead of the crowds of sand martins I saw last time there was just a handful of them and a couple of swallows. 

Bury and Bolton Canal 

I walked down from the reservoir to the canal, blackbirds, chiffchaffs and willow warblers singing all the way. As I crossed the canal three goosanders flew low over the bridge and headed into Radcliffe. For once I remembered to take the path under the tram bridge and was rewarded by a grey wagtail skittering about the riverbank.

River Irwell at Warth Bridge 

The 513 to Farnworth was due at the stop on Warth Bridge before the 513 to Bury, which suited me fine. I got off in Kearsley and got the 20 back to the Trafford Centre and thence home. I didn't feel like dealing with a sunny Saturday teatime in the city centre.