Mosses

Common blue, Chat Moss

It being a warmish and sunny day I decided to go and have that walk across the mosses in search of dragonflies. Any birds would be a bonus.

Along Cutnook Lane 

I got the 100 from the Trafford Centre, got off at Merlin Road and walked up Cutnook Lane. The wooded fringe to the motorway was predictably quiet. As the lane turned and headed North I could see a few woodpigeons in the fields and a flock of a dozen black-headed gulls loafed as horses grazed around them. A swallow flew by. Further on, past the fishery, more woodpigeons clattered about in the trees and there were occasional squeaks from chiffchaffs, a dunnock and a robin. Speckled woods, large whites and common darters skittered about the bracken verges. A squirrel was fossicking about in the wayside. We looked at each other, neither was in the mood for a chase, we went about our business.

Walking up to Croxden's Moss 

I crossed Twelve Yards Road and walked up the path between the trees. The squeaks of chiffchaffs gave way to the squeaks of willow warblers. Somewhere in the distance a juvenile buzzard was wanting feeding and being told to fend for itself. Red admirals and small whites joined the fluttering about in the bracken. A huge white butterfly flying about the oak canopy turned out to be a pair of coupling green-veined whites. The grassy opening at the intersection of paths was lively with common blues and meadow browns.

I had a quick nosy at Croxden's Moss. Black darters whizzed about, woodpigeons sang in the trees, large whites fluttered low over the ground and a blackcap told me to beggar off. So I did.

Common darter

As I walked along the side-path the wayside vegetation was busy with darters, both common and black, and speckled woods. Not for the first time and probably not the last I was so beguiled by the beautiful colours of a deerfly's eyes I almost let the varmint bite me. Willow warblers, great tits and blue tits squeaked and tutted as I passed by. A wren had a fit of the mutters deep in the bracken. A robin did vocal exercises in the birch scrub. I keep feeling I've seen the last of this year's swifts, today they were hawking low over the treetops.

Black darter

As the trees thinned out a little and let in more light meadow browns and large whites fluttered about the wayside with the speckled woods. An emerald damselfly obligingly posed for photographs after I apologised for mistaking it for a cranefly. A Southern hawker patrolled the canopy above my head, I rather hoped it was catching deerflies. 

Meadow brown

Emerald damselfly 

There was enough water in the pools on the open peat for me to hope to see some waders and I was disappointed. A broad-bodied chaser had it all to itself. I bumped into a party of long-tailed tits which disappeared into the birch scrub to join the twittering a of goldfinches. There seemed to be a emergence of red admirals, every open patch of ground had a pile of them, mostly sunning themselves on tree trunks. A few commas and painted ladies mingled with the crowds.

Red admiral 

Willow emerald

I don't see so many emerald damselflies that I get blasé about them so I always give them a second look. One of them I gave a third and fourth look before I realised that it was the pale wing spots that had caught my attention. I had to check it up to confirm because it seemed unlikely but it turns out this is one of the few places locally where willow emeralds have been recorded. 

Willow emerald

The path entered the more open ground and there were more butterflies by the wayside and more swifts over the fields. A small heath fluttered about the depths of a patch of grass. A bank vole ran across the path in front of me. And I had a moment's puzzlement as a banded demoiselle fluttered about a willow canopy. I always associate these with riversides and streams but I guess if they've got wings they can go where they like. I turned and headed towards Twelve Yards Road, a linnet and a couple of swallows flew across the field by my side.

Speckled wood

Haymaking

A farmer was making hay while the sun shines by Twelve Yards Road, disturbing a hen pheasant and a meadow pipit and attracting the attention of a few lesser black-backs and herring gulls. Way down Astley Road a small flock of house martins were feeding over farm buildings and a buzzard was making lazy circles in the sky. A migrant hawker zipped by, jinking out of course a couple of times after insects disturbed by the tractor.

A couple of young kestrels perched on the telegraph wires with some woodpigeons. I looked in vain for whitethroats or stonechats along Lavender Lane.

Lavender Lane 

Little Woolden Moss was very quiet. A couple of willow warblers squeaked quietly in the trees and woodpigeons and a handful of swallows flew overhead. I had to tiptoe past painted ladies on the path. The only dragonfly was a Southern hawker patrolling up and down the path.

Little Woolden Moss
There should be pools there.

Most of the pools were bone dry. There was just enough water in one for a pied wagtail to have a bath in it. A couple of others fossicked about the dried peat. I exchanged "Not much abouts" with another birdwatcher. Ten minutes later, as I turned onto the path leading to Moss Road I looked back and a female-type marsh harrier rose from the distant moss, turned on a wingtip and disappeared whence it came. They do these things to taunt us.

Moss Road 

In ordinary circumstances I'd say that it was a quiet walk down Moss Road but it was the most productive birdwatching of the day. Starlings gathered on telegraph wires, collared doves sang from telegraph poles, wrens muttered, a willow warbler squeaked, goldfinches twittered, greenfinches sang and lesser black-backs passed overhead. A common gull stood on its own in one field, a lapwing stood on its own in another. Carrion crows and woodpigeons bundled about in odd corners. And pied wagtails skittered about grazing ponies.

Manchester city centre 

I didn't have the energy for a wander round New Moss Wood. A willow warbler squeaked at the North end, a chiffchaff squeaked from the South end and a chaffinch squeaked from the trees by the car park in between. 

I struck dead lucky and got the strain straight home from Irlam. I felt like I'd had a longer walk than I had done but the day's birdwatching tally was more respectable than I was expecting. And I'd gone out looking for dragonflies and found more than I'd bargained for.