Mersey Valley

Speckled wood, Cob Kiln Wood
I think the fly is one of the Delia species.

It was a baking hot Bank Holiday Monday. I looked at the plans I had for the day and told myself not to be silly. It wasn't until mid-afternoon I set off for a walk, the worst excesses of the midday sun having burned its way through the record books. I decided I'd just have a gentle toddle over Stretford Meadows to see if any lesser whitethroats have turned up yet.

I got as far as the allotments. The wave of relief that swept over me the moment I got into the shade of the trees by the side persuaded me that it was probably not a good idea to go trekking over a mile-wide mound with no cover from the sun. Not today, any road. So I scuttled off back to Cob Kiln Wood to hide in the shadows.

Cob Kiln Wood 

An angry buzzing told me the willow tit was still about. Today's songscape included a great tit and a goldcrest. I decided not to cross the clearing this afternoon, choosing instead to take the path around it's perimeter. The song thrushes were persistent but distant so I could better hear the blackcaps, robins, wrens and chiffchaffs in the trees and bushes. And even see them every so often. Not quite as often as I was assailed by speckled woods. They had a mood on them today and were going after anything larger than a ladybird. I actually found some of the cuckoo pint today, I was at least a week late for the flowers.

Cuckoo pint 

Here and there the path broke out of the woodland into masses patches of cow parsley, hogweed and nettles and I felt less bad about the state of the back garden.

Hogweed (left), cow parsley (right) and path in betw

I wandered over to the river again. I had a bet with myself that there'd be two mallards and a carrion crow. There were three pairs of mallards, a pair of Canada geese and the goosander family downstream on the shoals.

Mallards

By this stage I had a cunning plan: I'd cross over, do a circuit of Banky Lane and Banky Meadow then cross back and walk the length of Cob Kiln Lane into Urmston and thence home. By my reckoning there'd be less than a hundred yards of the walk that wouldn't be in the shade. The plan was fouled somewhat by the combination of the heat and votive offerings to the Dog Shit Fairy. The offerings hanging from wayside twigs had matured fully in the sun. Worse yet, someone had had the bright idea of infusing the deep puddles in the path with yet more of them, like repellent tea bags. The smell was like a physical barrier, I turned on my heel and headed back to the river at a firm trot. I actually prefer the old days when dog shit was something you walked round and was dealt with efficiently by a combination of flies and the weather.

I still wanted a walk so I crossed the river and walked upstream on the bank. I'd barely passed under the Carrington Spur Road when the dipper shot upstream and disappeared under the bend. 

River Mersey 

At last the sunshine brought out the dragonflies. Banded demoiselles are the most common this time of year on the Mersey and there were plenty of them fluttering about by the waterside. Orange tips, large whites and painted ladies fluttered about the banks and sunbathed on the path as best could given the foot traffic 

Chiffchaffs, blackbirds and wrens did most of the singing in the hedgerows above the banks. Across the river a yellowhammer sang for a bit of bread and butter but made no specifications as to cheese. Grey wagtails fussed about the near bank, mallards dozed by the far back and swallows hawked low over the water. And overhead all the while there was a heavy traffic of jackdaws and woodpigeons.

Kickety Brook Local Nature Reserve 

The air in Kickety Brook Nature Reserve was still and oppressively muggy and the perfumes of elderflower and guelder rose hung heavy. A nuthatch kicked off the chorus and was joined by all the usual suspects except the titmice which quietly went about their business with scarcely the rustle of willow leaves. 

Stretford Meadows 

I crossed over the motorway onto Stretford Meadows. I was going to have that walk across the tops after all. Oh no I wasn't! I swiftly beat a retreat to the shade of the Transpennine Route and walked round to Newcroft Road. Whitethroats, dunnocks, song thrushes and wrens sang their taunts from the open country. I stuck to the shady world of blackbirds, robins, chiffchaffs, blackcaps and a garden warbler singing from hedgerows and brambles. I wasn't expecting to see a brown hawker so early in the season and it took me a while to process what I was seeing hawking over a patch of dog roses. A small drift of early purple orchids by the wayside told me I'll have to start having orchid walks over the meadows again.

Early purple orchids 

I was hot and weary and smelly when I got home — there's a reason why the cat used to sleep in the front garden in the hot weather. I still had the energy for another bat-hunting foray at the station later on, surely the weather"s warm enough for them now. Not a sausage, and for once I didn't get into conversation with passersby wondering what on earth I was doing. The usual convoy of lesser black-backs passed overhead on their way to Salford Quays as I walked home. The kestrel shooting across the school playing field was rather a lot more of a surprise.