Mosses

Common darter, Little Woolden Moss 

It was one of those days where I could have spent all day deciding where I was going out for a walk. The aches and pains after yesterday's fairly short wander round convinced me that i needed to get some exercise and it wasn't until I got off the train at Irlam and walked over to Astley Road that I was sure where I was going.

It was a grey day and cooler than advertised though the wind was a lot softer than it has been. It was a fairly quiet walk out of town. Robins sang but there were no more sign of house sparrows on Zinnia Close than there were in my back garden. 

The turf fields were busy with woodpigeons. Try as I may, none of the big clods of earth turned out to be partridges. Over on the other side of Roscoe Road some black-headed gulls accompanied the woodpigeons. A buzzard drifted off over towards Barton Moss. Another flew down Roscoe Road and joined a kestrel in a big tree near the farmstead. Buzzards and kestrels seem to tolerate each other reasonably well, neither have any time for sparrowhawks.

Astley Road 

The hedgerows along Astley Road were quietly busy with robins and titmice, the tops of the birch trees buzzing and twittering with goldfinches.  I spent a while making sure they were all goldfinches, just in case. Blackbirds rummaged in the undergrowth and somewhere a mistle thrush was taking exception to me. There was no question where the great spotted woodpecker objecting to me was, I looked up in the big conker tree, we saw each other and it was away. It provided noises off as I walked past the Jack Russell's gate.

Pied wagtail

Pied wagtail,the same bird as above looking remarkably pale now its black rump is hidden.

I'd been wondering where all the pied wagtails were. They were all around the Lawn Turf farmstead and the turf field across the road from there. At least a hundred of them and a large proportion juveniles, including a few birds which may have been white wagtails rather than just very pale pied wagtails. There was a handful of meadow pipits in the mix on the field as well as small flock of linnets and a juvenile wheatear. 

Pied wagtail 

Starlings
Sing along, you all know the tune.

Starlings congregated on the telegraph wires and paid no need as a male kestrel flew close by. Further along, a buzzard sat on a fence post watching jackdaws tiptoeing around a flock of sheep in a pen. A cormorant passed by, perhaps heading for the fishery.

Astley Road 

Approaching Four Lanes End 

The wind had ceased and the air got warm and heavy. Large whites, small whites and red admirals fluttered about the wayside, speckled woods along the hedgerows. A few common darters, all looking over-mature now in shades of iron reds and greys, zipped by. For once a migrant hawker settled on the ground to sun itself as best could but was off like a shot the moment the camera appeared. 

Lavender Lane

Another kestrel perched with woodpigeons on the telephone line across Lavender Lane. The first chiffchaff of the day squeaked from the hawthorn hedgerow. I stopped to scan round in the hopes of finding stonechats and accidentally flushed a dozen pheasants test had been feeding in the wayside. A big female sparrowhawk shot across the rough pasture at thistletop height before wheeling round and settling in the trees on the edge of Little Woolden Moss.

Little Woolden Moss 

Little Woolden Moss was phenomenally quiet. A chaffinch and a wren marked my entrance from the car park and a chiffchaff squeaked from the willow scrub. Out in the open there was me, some craneflies and common darters. The darters kept flying over to keep me company so I wouldn't be lonely.

I noticed someone way over on the other side on the path that's not available to the public, I'm pretty sure it was the chap who does the Carbon Footprint surveys. He flushed a small flock of linnets which flew over into the willow scrub. On the pools there wasn't so much as a duck or a moorhen. A passing female-type marsh harrier was some consolation.

Common darter 

At the site where the hide used to be before i started coming here I had a sit down in the company of some more common darters. As I was getting up to move on I was joined by another birdwatcher and we both commented on how quiet it was. I wished him luck and moved on, almost immediately bumping into a small copper feeding on the last of the heather flowers.

Small copper 

Bolete?

I hadn't realised I had decided to walk down Moss Road back into Irlam until I walked through the gate and joined the path leading to the road. There were lots of fungi at the base of the hedge, a giant puffball a little larger than a football being the only one I could identify with any confidence. Over the other side the fields had been ploughed and were being rummaged over by a few carrion crows and magpies and a pair of stock doves.

Giant puffball

These I'm not remotely sure of

It was a very quiet walk down Moss Road. Jackdaws and woodpigeons rummaged in fields, robins struck poses in hedgerow and lesser black-backs headed to the roost at Woolston Eyes.

Cadishead Moss 

New Moss Wood 

I didn't go into New Moss Wood, I didn't have the legs for it. The birds came out to me, a mixed tit flock flitting to and fro between the wood and a stand of conifers on the other side of the road. Blue tits chased each other about the branches. A couple of male goldcrests had a spat. Coal tits fed at the tree tops, chaffinches and great tits in the lower branches and chiffchaffs and long-tailed tits bounced through all points in between. Half a dozen pheasants fed under the conifers.

The first house sparrow of the day was chirping from a rose bush in the allotments on the way back to the station.

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.

Mosses

Stonechat, Chat Moss

It was another warm but overcast day and after feeling dog-rough last evening I had a lazy morning and had an afternoon potter about on the Salford mosses.

I got the train into Irlam and walked up Astley Road. Pigeons, woodpigeons, lesser black-backs and black-headed gulls passed overhead. A young robin squeaked from a hedge. Goldfinches twittered in treetops. Where were the house sparrows? No idea.

Black-headed gulls 

The sun was poking through the cloud cover as I left town and carried on walking up the road. Squadrons of woodpigeons passed overhead in all directions. Greenfinches and goldfinches sang in the trees. Blackbirds, great tits, chiffchaffs and robins rummaged quietly in the depths of cover, the blackbirds occasionally breaking cover to cross the road or the fields of turf. Wrens popped up out of nowhere, tutted and vanished like pantomime demons. Way, way over, probably over Barton Moss, a buzzard was putting the scares on a flock of woodpigeons. And the hedgerows were bustling with gatekeepers, large whites, red admirals and peacocks.

Irlam Moss 

Passing the Jack Russell's gate a great spotted woodpecker took exception to me from somewhere in the canopy of the roadside trees. Speckled woods and small whites fluttered about, the speckled woods chasing off any passing large whites. (I have speckled woods in my back garden. A whip and chair is a sensible precaution.) Swallows and swifts circled overhead and one of the lesser black-backs flying North, perhaps heading for Pennington Flash, turned out to be a subadult great black-back. 

Mugwort

I scanned the fallow field by Prospect Grange, all that thistledown and scarce a goldfinch to be seen. As I stepped back onto the verge to let a car go by a brown hawker zipped over my shoulder and followed in the car's wake.

Chat Moss 

The turf fields North of the motorway were green deserts, save the occasional swallow hawking low over the ground. A few fields distant a field had been turned over and was carpeted with over a hundred black-headed gulls and dozens of lesser black-backs and herring gulls. A bit further along a couple of strips of turf had been removed from a field and a dozen carrion crows were raking over the spoils. I looked in vain for any flavour of wagtail and was mightily relieved that house martins were still hawking over the farmsteads.

By Lavender Lane 

The walk down Lavender Lane felt quiet despite there being lots of woodpigeons and magpies about. The pair of kestrels were hunting over the fields either side of the lane but didn't look to be having much luck. I muttered to myself that I hadn't seen or heard any whitethroats and almost immediately a family of them popped up out of a bramble patch, hurled some filthy abuse my way and, having done what they had set out to do, retreated into cover. It was a warm, muggy day, I had every expectation of seeing a few dragonflies and saw not a one.

Juvenile stonechat

The first stonechat I spotted was a juvenile bird fussing about in a stand of mugwort in a thistle patch. The male stonechat spotted that I had noticed and made a point of looking very conspicuous as it hissed at me.

Stonechat

Willow warblers squeaked and one sang in the trees by the entrance to Little Woolden Moss. A stand of hemp agrimony in a corner was heaving with butterflies: peacocks, meadow browns, gatekeepers, large whites, speckled woods and — outnumbering the rest put together — red admirals.

Red admiral on hemp agrimony 

Walking in through the trees a wren sang as I passed by while blue tits and willow warblers ignored me and carried on with their business. A lot of gatekeepers fussed about the grasses and heather by the path as I emerged into the open. I hadn't gone far when a brown butterfly that wasn't a gatekeeper or a meadow brown fluttered past. Even though I knew what it was I needed to convince myself, I'm lucky if I get to see a large heath here once a year. "Large heath" suggests a big butterfly but these things are relative, they're about the same size or perhaps slightly smaller than a gatekeeper but are big compared to small heaths. Whereas the gatekeepers and meadow browns will occasionally stay still for a photo the large heath was an utter fidget, not stopping anywhere longer than a second or two.

Gatekeeper

Lapwings

I worried that the pools on the reserve may have dried out completely. They hadn't but they were very much reduced and for the most part only ankle-deep to a pied wagtail. As one demonstrated. A family of oystercatchers made a lot of noise, a couple of curlews slept and about a dozen lapwings loafed about, taking occasional snaps at passing insects. The pied wagtails were much more active, dashing about and catching insects in mid-air. A mystery bird was asleep on a log. Round and brown and lapwing-sized with dark legs. I was baffled until the oystercatchers woke it up and it fell off the log. A very young black-headed gull still not quite ready to be a master of the sky.

Curlews

A couple of black-tailed skimmers zipped about over the water, Southern hawkers patrolled the willow scrub. And for once there was not a single darter of any type to be found, very unusual in high Summer. I couldn't blame today's weather, the sun had come out and it was warm and muggy.

Stonechat

Stonechat

Walking back down Lavender Lane painted ladies, common blues and a large skipper joined the butterfly ball. The female stonechat joined the male in watching me on my way. It took me a while to find the young kestrel noisily begging for food, it had perched close to the top of a telegraph pole, a couple of poles away from where the female was keeping an eye on it.

Kestrel

Twelve Yards Road 

I headed down a rather quiet Twelve Yards Lane. A few swifts circled overhead, more squadrons of woodpigeons passed by, a dozen stock doves almost sneaked past my notice. The little pond that had formed in the corner of the fallow field was bone dry and deserted. Painted ladies and red admirals basked on the road. All the red admirals were pristine and new, the painted ladies split fifty-fifty between faded individuals almost grey and transparent and bright salmon-pink ones fresh from the production line.

There were a lot of these ghostly painted ladies about

After debating whether or not to take a detour up to the fringes of Croxden's Moss in the hopes of finding more dragonflies I decided against. I didn't have the legs for it.

Twelve Yards Road 

The lighting effects became impossible to ignore. Fields full of straw glowed against a backdrop of thunderous navy blue clouds. Yet the thunder never came, not a drop of rain. For which I was profoundly grateful but we do desperately need the rain.

There was a lot of activity in one rowan tree, more than there had been in all the hedgerows along this road so far. A family of whitethroats chased each other about, goldfinches twittered, a greenfinch sang, a chiffchaff squeaked and a blackcap hopped onto a perch to glare at me before flying into the neighbouring hawthorn. It turned out to be more activity than all the hedgerows for the rest of the walk down Twelve Yards Road and Cutnook Lane into Irlam for the bus back to the Trafford Centre.

Cutnook Lane 

I'm going to have to come back soon and look for darters on Chat Moss. There's something seriously wrong with the scheme of things in their absence.