Mersey Valley

Hornet-mimic hoverfly on hemp agrimony, Kickety Brook 

I spent most of Friday asleep, which is a pity as it looked like a nice day. Today was considerably warmer and it took a bit of an effort to persuade myself out for a walk. Luckily there was still enough of a breeze to make the walk the more pleasant once I got out into the open.

I headed over to Stretford Meadows. Collared doves and woodpigeons dozed on garden fences as I passed by. It was that sort of afternoon. A few spadgery mutterings were heard from the hedgerows of Newcroft Road. I braced myself for a quiet walk.

Arriving at the meadows I had barely passed the extended patch of rock-hard cracked mud at the entrance when a family of whitethroats gave me the collective raspberry from the depths of their bramble patch. I was a bit surprised as they're not usually this near to the trees, preferring the open spaces. Perhaps it's a reaction to the recent extreme heat, a bit less heat stress or a more reliable supply of insects? Anyway, they were keen to have me on my way.

Stretford Meadows 

It was a very quiet walk across the meadows. There was a steady traffic of woodpigeons and jackdaws overhead, whither and thither they alone knew. On the ground I saw a couple of magpies at the top of the mound. A handful of goldfinches twittered. A couple of woodpigeons rummaged about in the small oak trees checking out the state of the acorns. A handful of large whites fluttered about the brambles, meadow browns were numerous but rarely flew higher than a couple of inches above the parched ground. The nettles were wilted, the thistles and willowherbs had gone to seed, a few ragworts and small patches of black knapweed were still game. A large patch of goldenrod in full flower on one of the slopes had not one butterfly and scarce any bees or hoverflies.

The view from the top of the mound

I dropped down the Eastern slope of the mound, a couple of greenfinches letting everyone know I was passing by. Apples were ripening on the trees and bramble patches were thick with blackberries. In a Summer of disappointing blackberries I found one of the best I've had in years, so I had three and left the rest to the invisible wildlife. A cock pheasant appeared out of a patch of wilted willowherbs, ran across the path in front of me and disappeared into a line of brambles and elderberry bushes.

Rather to my astonishment, the flooded path across one of the terraces was even wetter than usual. I had been worrying about the wildlife going thirsty.

Blackberries 

I dropped down further and joined the Transpennine Route, heading for Stretford Ees. A Southern hawker patrolled the wayside. Somewhere in the depths a song thrush appeared to be doing vocal exercises. I stopped to take a photo of a blue tit in the trees and a blackcap flew into the hawthorn by my side and told me to go away.

Blue tit

By Kickety Brook 

On the other side of Chester Road things picked up a little. The brook was bone dry but the shade of the trees had provided some shelter for the wayside plants. They were dry but mostly not scorched or wilted though the Himalayan balsams were shadows of their usual selves. For once their scent wasn't overwhelming, instead it mingled with the smells of ripening blackberries and elderberries, all held together by the strangely fugitive scent of the stands of hemp agrimony. An enormous hornet-mimic hoverfly zipped past my nose on its way to the hemp agrimonies on the wayside next to me.

Hornet-mimic hoverfly 

Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about. Lesser black-backs passed overhead. Goldfinches, less than a handful, twittered in the trees. Blue tits fidgeted through the undergrowth. There was a sudden and unexpected burst of song from the trees on the other side of the brook as a garden warbler rushed out a few phrases and gave up before the end. Even the pigeons under the aqueduct were someplace else.

Stretford Weir
This collects the water from the ees when in flood and channels it down into the Mersey drain, which empties back into the river half a mile downstream, and Kickety Brook.

Goldfinches twittering in the hawthorns and the shrieks of parakeets in the trees by the cemetery provided the background to an otherwise very quiet walk across Stretford Ees. A brown hawker patrolled the reedmace in the waterless Stretford Weir.

River Mersey 

The river was, unsurprisingly, running very low. A flock of woodpigeons lined the banks as they had a drink. For a moment I thought the river was even lower than I'd thought as a grey shape pottered about the far bankside. It wasn't a woodpigeon having a paddle, it was a drake mandarin duck in its eclipse plumage. I couldn't see a female anywhere. I'd only taken a couple of steps when I noticed a bird tearing in from the mouth of Chorlton Brook. It was an adult dipper and it carried on downstream, the speed of its flight exaggerated by the sluggishness of the river. 

Mandarin duck 

A bit further down the bend a pair of mallards dabbled close to the bank. A chiffchaff squeaked from a hawthorn on the corner. I crossed over into Chorlton Ees grateful for a bit of shade. Great tits, dunnocks and wrens marked my passing by and magpies dug holes in the banks between trees as they grubbed for insects. Up in the canopy woodpigeons sang and billed and cooed and a pair of males had a punch-up, knocking each other about from tree to tree.

Woodpigeon punch-up 

Woodpigeon punch-up 

Dryad's saddle

Chorlton Ees 

It was more of the very quiet same as I walked through Ivy Green into Chorlton. There were more ring-necked parakeets in the gardens than there were in the woodland. The house martins hawking overhead as I waited for the bus in Stretford brought the day's tally up to thirty, which felt okay for this time of year.