Leighton Moss

Painted lady 

It was a damp morning promising better and as the train headed North we left the heavy rain of Chorley for the fitful sunshine of Preston. I had me an old man's explorer ticket and was headed for Leighton Moss via Dalton as per usual for the usual reasons. 

A few times I complained to myself that the fields and tracksides of Lancashire were being as barren as any of Yorkshire and I concluded that either the jackdaw population of Galgate had plummeted or I'd lost my eye for jackdaws. A thin passage of swallows, just the odd one or two, moved through Northern Lancashire. 

Cumbria convinced me I hadn't lost my eye for jackdaws. Redshanks, starlings and black-headed gulls gathered on the banks of the Kent and curlews and little egrets stalked the mudbanks. Fields were busy with black-headed gulls lapwings and greylags, jackdaws and carrion crows fossicked about and mallards fussed about in pools. It had become warm enough for large whites to flutter about the trackside. The tide was riding high, too high for more than a couple of eiders to have loafing space on the banks of the Leven as the little egrets retreated to the back channels. It was very thin pickings further along, I was seeing more butterflies — large whites and speckled woods — than birds and I wasn't seeing so many of them, either. 

It was much the same on the way back to Silverdale. A flock of teal dabbled in a drain before Cark and small whites joined the flutterings by the trackside. Moorhens pottered across ponds, buzzards floated over fields, it was quiet early Autumn fare.

Blue tits and house sparrows fussed about Silverdale Station and a comma butterfly passed by as I crossed over the track to the exit. Robins tutted in the hedgerows and woodpigeons passed by. A painted lady fed on the verbenas in the garden by the visitor centre and marmalade hoverflies skittered about the herb garden. Great tits, blue tits and robins could be heard more often than be seen.

Reed cutting 

Reed cutting was being done at Lilian's Hide, which was unfortunate for my photography but is essential work to maintain the habitat and I can be unfortunate enough for my photography without any help. The mute swans and great white egrets were lurking in the far reeds while coots, mallards, gadwalls and dabchicks sat in a raft at one end of the pool away from the work as if making a point that it was their pool and they weren't going to be chased off it by people slipping about in waders.

Willows by the reedbed

It was a very quiet walk through the reedbeds through to the Tim Jackson Hide. Robins stole through willow roots like ninjas and a chiffchaff squeaked as I passed it by. A party of sand martins passing overhead made up the numbers. 

The gadwalls on the pools at the hide were paired up and the mallards were a-courting. A couple of ruffs feeding on the edge of the reeds kept a wide berth from a loafing heron. A few migrant hawkers zipped about as well as another dragonfly that wouldn't stay flying in one direction long enough for me to identify but might have been one of the chasers. 

At the Tim Jackson Hide 

All of a sudden the sky went dark and it poured down. Five minutes later it was sunny again. It was one of those afternoons.

Cormorant 

The walk round to the Griesdale Hide was just as quiet. There were hints of passing long-tailed tits in the willows. Cormorants and carrion crows sat in the dead trees by the hide. A mute swan drifted about the pool. Over in a corner a black-tailed godwit poked about in the mud. I'm always suspicious of any bird that should be in a flock turning up on its own so I had a good stare at it and it remained a black-tailed godwit. Mallards and gadwalls flew out to the estuary, woodpigeons flew in to the woods. I waited out another shower and made my way back. 

Mallards

At the Griesdale Hide 

Just to emphasise how quiet the visit had been, I heard my first wren of the day tutting by the Sky Tower and the only nuthatch I saw flew into a tree at the station as the Manchester train arrived. As the train passed the coastal hides I saw a flock of more than a hundred black-tailed godwits on the pool by the Eric Morecambe Hide and  a dozen greylags grazed by the bank. Marsh harriers had been notably absent at Leighton Moss. A female-type was putting up the meadow pipits on Carnforth Marsh and a kestrel hovered by the trackside.

Leighton Moss 

Autumn's a funny season in this corner of England. Anything can be anywhere, birds are on the move and a lot of them are doing it for the first time and don't know for sure where they're going. On the other side, the ones that aren't going anywhere haven't any big incentive to call attention to themselves and there's plenty enough cover to hide behind. It means that you have to work as hard as any time during the Summer but you never know what, if anything, might turn up. The other day I looked for a black redstart and found a spotted flycatcher in the same place first, today I have a quiet time at Leighton Moss. If it was predictable it would be boring.