Pennington Flash

Moorhens

The cold wind continued to have its sport, bringing a couple of common gulls briefly to the school playing field and a crowd of spadgers sidled through the bushes in the back garden to the suet feeders. Errands done, I had a cup of tea while I decided where to go for a walk, bearing in mind that it was a Saturday and very windy. I decided it would be either Amberswood or Pennington Flash. I walked through the park to see if would be any more productive than yesterday — fewer woodpigeons but a blackbird made itself known and a skein of pink-footed geese passed overhead — and got the bus to the Trafford Centre where the 126 was sitting waiting for me. Pennington Flash it was, then.

Walking in from St Helens Road 

The walk in from St Helens Road was quiet, even the magpies seemed subdued. Apparent small bird noises were the creaks and cracks of willows in the wind and the falling of leaves and twigs.

Tufted ducks and coots

It was blowing a hooley on the flash and most of the waterfowl were hugging the car park. Rafts of tufted ducks and coots drifted just offshore, the mallards and black-headed gulls tended to keep to the bank, or else joined the Canada geese mugging for scraps. A few cormorants and great crested grebes fished midwater, a small raft of mostly herring gulls with a few lesser black-backs sat over by the sailing club and a herd of mute swans hugged the far bank.

The spit 

Sitting in the F.W.Horrocks Hide was a bracing experience and to look at the spit you would have sworn the tide was coming in. All the action was at the far end: cormorants, lapwings and herring gulls loafed at the end of the spit; mallards, shovelers and teals loafed on the sides; more cormorants, great crested grebes, tufted ducks, coots and dabchicks drifted about on the water. A little egret flew over the flash and looked to be heading for the golf course.

Gadwalls

There was a lot of amorous quacking from the gadwalls at the Tom Edmondson Hide. A few shovelers preened in the reeds while dabchicks and moorhens bustled about.

Dabchick and shoveler

I didn't linger long at Ramsdales, a few teals and shovelers were dabbling about but the water was too high for any waders to be wander about.

Walking round to the Charlie Owen Hide 

The walk up to the canal and round to the Charlie Owen Hide was punctuated by furtive mixed tit flocks sidling through the trees. Usually I'd be picking up the quiet contact calls of long-tailed tits then notice the shadows of great tits and blue tits flitting through the trees. Every so often a great tit would show itself on a bare branch then vanish into cover.

In contrast, the mixed tit flock by the Charlie Owen Hide was very conspicuous. Long-tailed tits flitted to and fro across the path, great tits and blue tits bounced about on twigs. One of the goldcrests in the flock was a showy and excitable male whose crest was a bright butter-yellow and gold triangle on the top of his head nearly all the time he flitted about in a hawthorn by the path avoiding having his photo taken.

Rain stopped play

Over on the golf course the mallards had abandoned the brook and were dabbling about in the huge puddles on the green.

Teals, shovelers and moorhen

The pool at the Charlie Owen Hide was busy with shovelers, gadwalls, teals, coots and dabchicks and a couple of mallards drifted in after I'd arrived. Over in one corner a cormorant was sat on a branch drying its wings, in another a heron was lurking at the edge of the reeds.

The Bunting Hide was quiet, a couple of great tits and a dunnock were having a rummage round. I lingered in the hopes that a willow tit might pass through but no joy. I'm having a bad year for both willow tits and marsh tits, I'm hoping that's just my bad fieldcraft.

At Pengy's Hide 

An eclipse drake wigeon mingled with the mallards and gadwalls at Pengy's Hide, a family of mute swans were busy feeding on the other side.

Oystercatcher and mallard

As I walked back through the car park to St Helens Road an oystercatcher made an appearance amongst the dozing mallards. Oystercatchers are pretty long-lived, the oldest British one was over forty years old, so this could be the same bird coming back every Winter.

Pennington Flash