Martin Mere

Black-headed gulls

Sure as eggs, one of the young blue tits has tagged onto the troupe of sparrows. That should see it through the Winter. I noticed it as I was getting ready to go out. I hadn't got round to visiting Martin Mere yet this month, after planning to do so last week, so I made sure to take precautions for the hayfever, slapped on the factor thingy and headed out that way.

By Red Cat Lane 

It was a cloudy and unpromising sort of day, ideal for walking at this time of year. Crowds of jackdaws and woodpigeons rummaged about in the fields beside Red Cat Lane. Skylarks sang in the distance, blackbirds and wrens sang in the hedgerows, house sparrows and goldfinches fussed about the gardens and farmsteads. I don't know what it was that made me look twice at a sparrow on a telegraph wire but I'm glad I did, it feels like lifetimes since I last saw a tree sparrow down this way. Five minutes later I was being given the raspberry by a corn bunting and escorted out of its patch. I had honestly given up on both of them here. I'm glad to be wrong.

Corn poppies

Curlew Lane

I had a quick nosy up Curlew Lane. Swallows and house martins hawked over the fields and a few dozen black-headed gulls and lesser black-backs were following the ploughed a few fields down. It wasn't my day for yellow wagtails.

The field across the road from Martin Mere was carpeted with black-headed gulls, adults and their tea-stained youngsters alike. There were plenty more to come as I walked in.

Black-headed gulls and shelduck

As usual, I headed straight for the Discovery Hide. A chap already in there said: "There's a sandpiper right in front of you if you're interested." It took me a minute to find it, from my angle there were a lot of dock leaves in the way. Ironically, I got better views when it moved away onto the little spit in front of the hide.

Common sandpiper

Common sandpiper

Common sandpiper

Black-headed gulls

There were still black-headed gulls nesting on the mere. Some of the chicks were tiny, most had fledged and were capable of at least some weak flight. Mallards and their tiny ducklings seemed intent on losing each other. The larger ducklings stuck to their parents (actually, this is a guess: as well as mallard ducklings wandering off at the drop of a hat and tagging along with whatever, the ducks have a habit of hedging their bets by laying a few eggs in other ducks' nests, and not always are they mallards'). Shelducks had near full-grown ducklings, coots and moorhens had everything from tiny chicks to full-grown in tow and some of the full-grown juvenile moorhens had been given babysitting duty. A few Canada geese and greylags mooched about over on the far bank with a couple of common terns and some oystercatchers and lapwings. Otherwise, besides all these crowds of birds, it was fairly quiet.

Juvenile moorhen and chick

Black-headed gulls and mallard

Black-headed gulls

By the Hale Hide

Blackcaps, wrens and a song thrush sang in the trees as I walked over to the Ron Barker Hide. Titmice and robins were shadows in the undergrowth. I popped into the Hale Hide to get a different perspective on the mere and see what was on the little pool there. A few mallards and their ducklings pootled about and coots and moorhens fussed. Way over in the distance I could see a heron perched on a gatepost in the reedbeds. It took a while to work out what the smaller, darker figure was on the adjacent gatepost — I will admit I got my hopes up that the glossy ibis had returned — but eventually it woke up and turned out to be a juvenile heron.

The Mere View Hide 

The Mere View Hide was very quiet indeed save for a Cetti's warbler singing in the brambles and a sedge warbler singing in the flag irises.

The Ron Barker Hide was quietish. Families of well grown mallards and shelducks drifted about on the pools and tiny tufted ducklings dibbled about with their parents in the brook. Swallows dashed about with gay abandon. I looked in vain for the whooper swans I saw last time. The large white shape on the bank was two great white egrets sleeping side by side. Families of greylags grazed the near banks, Canada geese were in the tall grass with the longhorn cattle. I could see no cattle egrets about.

Great white egrets, tufted ducklings, coot, moorhen and mallards

A female marsh harrier was busy, it flew in stage left and was greeted by two immature birds. She rose up in the air, the two young birds following. She dropped whatever it was she had in her talons and one of the youngsters caught it in mid air. She did a couple more food drops while I was in the hide. While she was away the youngsters joined another couple of young birds I hadn't noticed sitting in a tree at the back of the reedbed.

One of the harriers passing close by caused a sudden appearance of a white object at the top of the reeds in the pool on the right. I noticed it and had a look, expecting it to be the head of one of the whoopers having a look round. It turned out to be a cattle egret sat on the back of a cow hidden by the reeds. Another pass-by saw three cattle egrets stick their heads up and judging by the erect crests and jabbing bills of the two adults they weren't best pleased at the harriers.

Cattle egret

On the way back I had to stop a moment while a water shrew ran across the path and into cover.

The Harrier Hide from the Reedbed Walk 

The afternoon was young so I headed over to the Reedbed Walk. The path by the United Utilities Hide was closed for resurfacing so I followed the path round from the Harrier Hide. I was very conscious that I'd been a couple of hours in a wetland reserve and hadn't seen any dragonflies. I quickly bumped into a handful of common blue damselflies, thin gruel after yesterday's Hodbarrow banquet. There was a thin background songscape, a few Reed buntings, a couple of Cetti's warblers, a reed warbler, the clamour of black-headed gulls, and the quiet fussing about of mallards, shelducks and coots talking in their sleep on the pools behind the reeds.

Black-headed gulls

Gatekeeper

For all the weather was dark grey and a bit cool there were loads of butterflies about. The waysides between the Discovery Hide and Rob Barker's were busy with meadow browns with a few red admirals, small tortoiseshells and commas fluttering about. The reedbeds were heaving with gatekeepers. A few red admirals and small tortoiseshells were about and the excellent year for painted ladies continued but there were two dozen gatekeepers for every other butterfly. The dragonflies were few and far between and all black-tailed skimmers.

The Reedbed Walk 

A working party with strimmers passed by in their little off-road vehicle (not quite a car but significantly more than a golf buggy). I'm putting years on myself admitting I thought: "Daktari" as they passed. For once I felt a bit self-conscious putting my mask on as I passed them working, it looked a bit pointed. Unfortunately the hayfever had already kicked in badly and I didn't want to give it any more encouragement.

Teal and black-headed gulls

A few teal and lapwings fed on the remains of the pool at the Gordon Taylor Hide. Teal are so secretive this time of year I rarely see the males going into eclipse plumage, a couple of them were well into the moult here. A few of the nesting black-headed gulls still had very young chicks, nearly all the older birds were flightworthy if clumsy. I looked in vain for any waders that weren't lapwings or oystercatchers.

A lot of black-headed gulls were making a racket overhead. A different gull call stuck out from the noise, something more like the sound of a penguin at the zoo. I was quite pleased to find the pair of Mediterranean gulls almost immediately I looked up. I was running lucky today. Even luckier in fact: I heard a chaffinch-like song coming from the hawthorns in the out-of-bounds part of the reedbed and just at the point I'd convinced myself that no, it wasn't a lesser whitethroat, it was a chaffinch having singing practice a chaffinch started singing from the trees by the water treatment works to remind me what they really sound like. It never fails to surprise me that when you compare the songs of common and lesser whitethroats it's the lesser whitethroat that sounds like Tom Jones.

At the Rees Hide

At the Rees Hide the pool was a distant memory.

Walking back to the visitor centre I was accompanied by a Southern hawker. There were plenty of midges and mozzies about so I was happy for it to make inroads on any coming my way.

Red Cat Lane 
Winter Hill had disappeared behind a bank of rain. It should be behind those trees.

The cosmic balance has to be respected. I hadn't gone far once I left Martin Mere before the heavens opened. There's some shelter on the way to New Lane so I could have walked that way and got the slightly later train, the trouble there was that depending which site I checked that train may or may not have been cancelled and as they only run every two hours it was a chance I was unwilling to take. There's no shelter between Martin Mere and Burscough Bridge and its half-hourly train service so there was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

Corn bunting

I'm very glad I did: the corn bunting gave me another good telling off and I spotted why it was so agitated. It's more than twenty years since I last saw a juvenile corn bunting.

Juvenile corn bunting

Martin Mere

Moorhen chick

It's going to be a coo what a scorcher bank holiday weekend so I thought I'd best get a visit to Martin Mere in before it all kicks off. Most years we have a few weeks' gradation between Britain Shivers and Coo What A Scorcher but this year we're doing it over four days and I'm not convinced my system's quite caught up yet. It felt odd leaving all the coats at home, including the Summer raincoat. I had an atavistic yearning for a Packamac. It wasn't needed.

Some of the nests in the rookery by Burscough Bridge Station are either still active or active again. Most probably they are latecomers or pairs whose first attempt was predated and they're hoping second time lucky.

By Red Cat Lane 

The walk down Red Cat Lane to Martin Mere was oddly quiet but busy. The noise of rooks and jackdaws in the ploughed field just outside town gave way to the hints of woodpigeons, starlings and skylarks in the arable fields beyond. Robins, blackbirds chiffchaffs and goldfinches sang in the trees and hedges. Swallows and house martins twittered overhead, and all the more when a kestrel passed by. A yellow wagtail flew across the road from Curlew Lane and disappeared into the depths of a field of corn and there was a close pass-by by a male marsh harrier. 

A little further on, and to my utter astonishment, I had a nice suprise. A bird caught my eye as it flew into one of the horse chestnuts across the road from Brandeth Barn. It didn't look right for a sparrow and had too much back end for a chaffinch so I had a quick shufti with the binoculars. I can't remember how many years it is since I last saw a corn bunting along here, I'd given up on them. A surprisingly sleek-looking female brought the year list to 181.

Oystercatcher 

At Martin Mere I dived into the Discovery Hide for a bit of shade as much as for the birds. It's that time of year when mallards and shelducks conduct trains of ducklings past nesting black-headed gulls and non-breeding oystercatchers gather to celebrate their lack of responsibilities. There were a few lapwings and Canada geese about the far side of the mere, they were heavily outnumbered by greylags.

Black-headed gulls and chicks

Black-headed gulls and chicks

A walk down to the Mere View Hide included an encounter with a grey squirrel kitten that was out unsupervised and hadn't a clue. When I encountered it on the way back it was sunbathing after exhausting itself by running up a lady's trouser leg.

This grey squirrel kitten hadn't worked out it was supposed to be scared of people

The songscape along the way was light but persistent: if you weren't hearing song thrushes and/or robins you were hearing blackbirds, blackcaps and/or chiffchaffs, with background helpings of wrens, woodpigeons, a Cetti's warbler and a sedge warbler. A whitethroat added to the concert at the Mere View Hide and a reed warbler was seen but not heard, which is a distinct reversal of the norm.

From the Ron Barker Hide
Out in the distance a whooper swan sits on its nest.

I'd barely sat down at the Ron Barker Hide before a chap asked if I'd seen the whooper swan on its nest. I'm used to there being the odd one or two lingering over Summer because they couldn't join the migration because of injury or whatever and the past couple of years there's usually been a couple lurking around this end of Langley's Brook, the drain heading away from the hide. This year they've decided they may as well make the most of it while they're here.

Swallow

A few black-headed gulls were also nesting, bothering any passing lesser black-backs or herring gulls to keep them moving on. A few mallards, gadwalls and greylags drifted listlessly on the pools. Swallows twittered about the drain, some of them settling down for ten seconds of song before getting back to the business of flying about twittering. The long grass in the field at the side of the marsh was high enough for the calves to just be disembodied ears and tops of heads careering about in a giddy fashion. The cattle egrets with them and their parents were only visible when they took flight or sat on one or other's backs.

The afternoon was but young and the weather dead clear so I headed for the reedbed walk. I didn't think I had the legs to do the long walk round but I wanted to check out at least some of the hides and I was desperate to see some dragonflies. I lingered on the bridges over the brooks and drains like some lovelorn sailor in a bad movie and just got pitying looks from mallards for my pains. No dragons, no damsels.

The pool at the Rees Hide was busy though most of the birds were a fair way away from the hide. Black-headed gulls sat on nests with avocets on sentry duty chasing off lesser black-backs, coots, lapwings, swallows, butterflies, whatever caught their eye. I almost missed a Mediterranean gull sitting amidst the mêlée.

Tufted ducks 

The birds were closer and the whole scene a little calmer at the Gordon Taylor Hide, except when male black-headed gulls brought sticks back to shore up the nest when the family was expecting dinner. Pairs of tufted ducks, shovelers and teals quietly cruised about in and out of the reeds and between the nesting islands.

Black-headed gull

Black-headed gulls 

Black-headed gulls and chick

On the way out I glanced over the bridge and a female banded demoiselle landed on the reeds just underneath. Just the one damselfly for the day but one is infinitely better than nothing.

Banded demoiselle

It was lazy afternoon time at the Harrier Hide. Mallards, greylags, gadwalls and shovelers dozed and a great crested grebe slowly cruised around to no apparent purpose.

Creeping buttercup and flax

It was busy-quiet again on the way back. There was another fly-by by the marsh harrier though this time he was well away from the road. The starlings and swallows were starting to settle on telegraph wires ready for their teatime singsong, some were already warming up. All in all the day was like that, a deceptively calm day's birdwatching that somehow got 69 species on the tally.

Martin Mere

Black-headed gull

I had a few errands to do this morning then spent an hour waiting at Urmston Station for the train into Manchester, which was posted as being "on time" until the last bus that would get me in quicker had gone. The songscape at the station, while delightful, was scant consolation, the blackcap in the bush behind me has a particular case for being aggrieved at a poor audience. Luckily for me, the Southport train wasn't allowed to leave platform 5 before the train I was on had arrived and stopped at platform 4 so the habitués of Oxford Road Station were regaled with the ungainly spectacle of an old man hurtling across the platform and diving through the doors just before they closed. And so I was off to Martin Mere.

The journey to Burscough Bridge went well. Lesser black-backs in ones and twos replaced the Winter crowds of black-headed gulls in Bolton town centre. Woodpigeons and collared doves canoodled in trackside trees; magpies, carrion crows and jackdaws — and the occasional pheasant or buzzard — rummaged around in fields; and the coots, tufted ducks and Canada geese on the lake at Pemberton Park were cruising about in pairs.

The rookery at Burscough Bridge Station was in full swing and noisy with it. I had feared it largely abandoned, instead the birds have left most of the large nests by the car park and have rebuilt in the trees by the football pitch behind the supermarket. It's good to find there are still some eternal verities.

By Red Cat Lane 

It was nice walking weather. The breeze was there but not as wild and unlovely as it has been. There weren't any crowds of birds in the fields, even the jackdaws were a scant dozen, but there was a lot of birds about, mostly betrayed by song. Skylarks sang over the fields. Dunnocks, robins, wrens, chiffchaffs and great tits sang in hedgerows and gardens. Goldfinches and greenfinches sang from treetops, starlings from telegraph poles and blackbirds from chimney tops. A pair of lapwings chased off a buzzard and made a kestrel feel unwelcome. A pair of grey partridges would have done a good job of being invisible if the stubble on a field margin had been a couple of inches higher. They and I pretended that they had succeeded and I passed by without incident. I had hopes to hear the song of a corn bunting, they used to be as regular along here as the tree sparrows and it's a long time since I saw either. Perhaps next time.

Small flocks of black-headed gulls — never more than half a dozen — had been flying to and from overhead all the time I'd been walking down the road. Just past Brandeth Barn another flock came over and didn't sound right. As it got closer I picked out the call of a Mediterranean gull amongst the others — to me they sound like penguins — and I managed to spot it as they passed directly overhead. My first of the year, they'd really become a bogey with me.

Martin Mere 

At Martin Mere I went straight to the Discovery Hide as usual. The mere was transformed: the acres of wigeons, teals and greylags and noisy crowds of whooper swans had been replaced by black-headed gulls noisily asserting territorial rights to nesting sites or noisily jostling for prime loafing spots on islands, and often noisily both. There were few waders, just a handful of oystercatchers and a couple of avocets. And nearly all the waterfowl were mallards, I had to work to find the teals and shovelers and even the shelducks and coots were keeping a low profile. The cattle were grazing the far bank with cattle egrets dancing attendance. A great white egret stalked the edge nearby. In the field behind a pink-footed goose grazed on its own.

Male fern croziers

Turning towards the Mere View Hide 

I headed for the Ron Barker Hide. The trees along the path held singing chiffchaffs, blackcaps, great tits chaffinches and blackbirds. Woodpigeons lumbered about, greenfinches and goldfinches bustled through the trees, wrens and moorhens skittered about.

Little egret

At the Mere View Hide, the Kingfisher Hide as was, I had a chat with a chap who was taking his new big lens for a walk and had got some fine photos of marsh harriers. A little egret was striking poses in the trees in front of the hide and a few mallards were keeping under cover. The reason being the pair of marsh harriers building a nest in the reedbeds beyond. Every few minutes one or other would sail by with a stick in its mouth before disappearing into the reeds.

Everything at Rob Barker's was keeping its distance
Whooper swans, black-headed gulls and black-tailed godwits 

A chap was leaving the Ron Barker Hide as I approached it. "The glossy ibis is showing," he said. It took me ages to find it feeding in the grass over at the side with a flock of wigeon. I was about to give up on it when I realised there was a flock of black-tailed godwits there. If I could overlook forty-odd rusty red godwits I could be overlooking the ibis. Sure enough one of the carrion crows playing hide and seek in the grass turned side on and had a long neck. The godwits were spooked by a passing marsh harrier, rose and eventually settled on the water's edge. In the confusion I lost the ibis, it took ten minutes to pick it up again. It had run about fifty yards along and was showing better in the patches of close-cropped grass in that area. It was still only a dot in the camera viewfinder though. As was everything else, even the couple of whoopers asleep on the bank. The two pairs of marsh harriers building nests and squabbling over territories in the reedbeds were even more distant.

The marsh harriers were showing well but stayed way in the distance. This male had just dropped off some nest-building material.

Oxlips

I wandered back slowly, taking in the seasonal changes, not just the birdsong and the departure of so much wildfowl: there were oxlips and campions in bloom and a brimstone butterfly passed by.

I had time to wander over to the United Utilities Hide and perhaps have a quick look at a corner of the reedbeds but I wasn't convinced I had the energy. It had been a very productive and enjoyable walk but I needed the reserves for getting back to Burscough Bridge Station. I called it quits and headed back.

By Red Cat Lane 

It was a quieter walk back. Most of the songbirds were quietly going about their business, rather to my surprise the songscape was dominated by greenfinches. A wet field by one of the farmsteads was awash with goldfinches, blackbirds and pied wagtails. And the rooks were heading back to the rookery, each new arrival in the trees welcomed by a chorus of raucous croaks.

Burscough Bridge Station rookery

I would have got home by late teatime but I either got my second wind or had a rush of blood to the head. I got off at Bolton and went for another walk.