Etherow Country Park

Mandarin duck

I thought I'd ease myself into the week with a nosy at the mandarin ducks at Etherow Country Park. Evidently somebody had 'phoned ahead to warn them, they were extremely thin on the ground this afternoon.

Tufted duck

For a change I got the train to Rose Hill Marple and then got the 383 to Compstall and walked up to Etherow Country Park. At first sight the only difference to the other week was that there were a few more tufted ducks in the mix by the car park and there was no sign of the usual greylags. A surprisingly loud goldcrest took issue with my walking too close to one of the bushes by the garden centre.

Canada x greylag goose

Etherow Country Park

Walking down by the canal I was struck by the lack of finches and mixed tit flocks. There were great tits and blue tits about but operating as pairs or singletons. On the other hand there were plenty of singing robins and wrens and a few blackbirds mussed up the leaves at the pathside.

Robin

Now the leaves are falling the views of the river opened up by the Spring tree felling become more obvious. It was an opportunity for me to look for dippers. I'd convinced myself I hadn't seen one in over a year, actually it was June this year. In any case, I didn't see one now. As I scanned the river from the bridge by the weir I found a couple of juvenile grey wagtails skipping round near the canal overflow and a lady and her small boy found a mink fossicking about near the rocks by the bridge.

Mink

The feeders in the Paddock Garden by Weir House were busy with titmice. Blue tits, great tits and coal tits jostled for position but the long-tailed tits I kept hearing were staying in the trees by the river above the weir.

Blue tit

I still hadn't seen any mandarin ducks. I wandered round the drowned willows in the pool by Weir House and eventually found a couple lurking in the shadows. But only a couple. The drake was busy preening and I was struck how the abstract shapes and high contrast colours that would make him strikingly conspicuous out in the open worked as camouflage with the lights and shadows in the depths of the drowned willow branches.

Mandarin duck

The same bird without the camera automatically amping up the ISO, a lot closer to what I was seeing through my bins

Keg Wood

A half hour's wander round Keg Wood until the joints shouted barleys found me a mixed tit flock — blue tits, great tits, coal tits, goldcrests and nuthatches but, again, no long-tailed tits — and a surprise in a noctule bat flying high about the tree tops. The weather wasn't brilliant but I hadn't realised it was that gloomy. The titmice had been keeping their distance but once I started taking photos of fungi they came to have a look at what I was doing.

Yellow waxcap

Honey pinkgill

Keg Wood

I think this is a milkcap

Walking back I passed a family of long-tailed tits bouncing round the pathside willows keeping aloof from the blue tits and great tits on the other side of the canal. I'd been wondering where the Muscovy ducks were and bumped into a couple dozing under a bush by an angler's platform. 

Etherow Country Park

Cormorant and black-headed gulls

Tufted ducks
The first-Winter drake on the right made me look twice. On his left-hand side his sides were pale grey-brown, on his right-hand side it was nearly white and nearly covered the wing. At a distance in this type of light I might have been tempted to say lesser scaup.

I got the 383 into Romiley and while I waited for the train to Manchester the station jackdaws kept me under close observation.

Jackdaw

Mersey Valley

Mallards, Jackson's Boat

Yesterday at dawn there were 79 black-headed gulls on the school playing field, today there were just sixteen. If there's a pattern to their occurrence I'm not seeing it.

The early morning's errand done I got an hour's kip, filled myself up with an unseemly amount of tea and toast and took advantage of the bus strike being called off to get the 25 into Chorlton and walk home via a circuitous route.

Hawthorn Lane

I got off the bus at Ryebank Road, crossed over, nipped through Meadow Court and onto Hawthorn Lane into the woods by Turn Moss and thence into Ivy Green. It was a grey morning threatening to become a sunny lunchtime and there were plenty of people — and their dogs — about. As I walked along there was a clattering about by woodpigeons and magpies, squirrels and jays dropped acorns on my head and there was a screeching of parakeets. That last would a constant feature of the walk together with the songs of robins and wrens. There were blue tits and great tits about but they weren't organised into mixed flocks, they were still going around in pairs. Magpies and carrion crows rummaged around in the meadow on Ivy Green and a pair of mute swans flew overhead heading for Sale Water Park.

Chorlton Ees 

Chorlton Ees was similarly busy with people and shy of birds, though they were about if you looked hard enough for long enough. Again the titmice weren't flocking, unlike the goldfinches working their way through the alders and birch trees fringing the hay meadow. Woodpigeons pillaged oak trees, magpies and blackbirds gorged on haws, squirrels filled their cheek pouches with anything going. Chaffinches and nuthatches called in the trees and a great spotted woodpecker flew overhead into the thick woodland. I thought it was too cool for butterflies and a speckled wood proved me wrong as it foraged for honeydew on the leaves of a sycamore tree.

It was all go on the river at Jackson's Boat, there were almost as many mallards as people. Dunnocks joined the tutting chorus of robins, wrens and great tits as I walked past the car park to the path alongside Barrow Brook. A passing buzzard was barracked by a crowd of jackdaws feeding on the field on Sale Ees, they couldn't be bothered taking flight to badger it.

By Barrow Brook

There was plenty enough water on Barrow Brook for a crowd of mallards, the surrounding woodland would have been quiet but for the parakeets and a pair of nuthatches.

Sale Water Park 

The target birds for the walk had been long-tailed tits and moorhens and I'd somehow contrived to see neither until I got to Sale Water Park. The moorhens were puttering about by the islands on the lake. The long-tailed tits were in the only mixed tit flock of the day bouncing through the willows and dogwoods on the bank. Over on the slipway a large herd of mute swans were mugging for scraps, muscling out any Canada geese, mallards or coots similarly on the cadge. On the water every buoy had a black-headed gull on it and the pair that are joined together to form the starting point for canoe races also had a couple of common gulls on the crossbar. The pontoon was standing room only, there was barely enough room for the cormorants to flex their wings. A few black-headed gulls cruised about on the water with the great crested grebes which were staying over that side away from the Saturday anglers. I was surprised to see speckled woods flying across the lake to the islands, I don't often see them out in the open like that.

The willows have sprung up in front of the hide on Broad Ees Dole, scanning the pool with the binoculars was a lot like looking through a series of keyholes. Shovelers and teal loafed and preened on the islands, a few more shovelers and a lot of moorhens rummaged channels through the duckweed. It took me a while to find a dabchick, it was dozing by one of the islands in the middle of a group of teal. The only heron of the day was stalking the reedbeds on the far side. For once there was literally nothing on Teal Pool and my hopes that the Cetti's warbler might have returned came to naught.

Stretford Ees

Stretford Ees was remarkably quiet. Jackdaws and woodpigeons passed overhead and a couple of parakeets called from the trees by the river but even the great tits, wrens and robins I saw going about their business in the undergrowth were staying silent. Unlike the pigeons under the tram bridge by Hawthorn Road that were enthusiastically working at making baby pigeons.

I walked along Kickety Brook onto Stretford Meadows. There didn't seem a lot about in the hedgerows but what was about was making plenty of noise whether it was the woodpigeons and jays in the trees, the great tits and coal tits in the bushes or the jackdaws passing overhead. One feature of the walk was the number of cyclists who were considerate of pedestrian traffic on the paths and said thank you when I stood to one side. It really shouldn't be remarkable but it is and I'm grateful to them all for restoring my faith a little.

Hemp agrimony 

Stretford Meadows 

It had become a warm, sunny afternoon. I freely admit that I was flagging by the time I got to Stretford and heading straight for the steep slope of the mound didn't even seem a good idea at the time. Still, it gave the system a good workout and the knees took it remarkably well. On the plus side it meant that it was a long, gentle coast down to Newcroft Road. There were a remarkable lot of birds about and they were nearly all woodpigeons, upward of two hundred and fifty of them scattered through the hawthorns and young oak trees. Every so often a flock would clatter into flight as a walker or a dog got too close, or in one case when the usual buzzard passed low overhead calling all the way. Aside from the woodpigeons there were a handful of magpies and a couple of singing robins. In terms of diversity it was very below average but I've not seen as much tonnage of bird flesh on here for a very long time. While all this was going on a migrant hawker was zipping around hunting flies over the large stands of Michaelmas daisies.

Parakeets and spadgers called from the hedgerows as I popped into the garden centre for a nosy. I was planning on buying some pansies for the pots by the front door, was very tempted to buy a load of hellebores for non-existent gaps in a couple of borders and ended up buying lavender and catmint for an old strawberry planter I've got by the kitchen door. I probably will buy a load of hellebores anyway.

I had an errand to run at teatime (I got drenched last week and my 'phone's none the better for it). On the way back I stopped off at the station to look at a pretty sunset. Just as I was wrong to think it had been too cool for butterflies I was wrong to think it was too cool for bats. The usual soprano pipistrelle was dancing over the field by the station, and very nice too.

A Humphrey Park sunset

Home thoughts

It's an odd thing: I haven't seen a single sparrow in the garden this weekend. I'd let the feeders lie empty for a couple of days at the end of last week but it usually takes less than a day for them to twig they've been refilled. 

They haven't been much in evidence in their other usual haunts locally, either. They've been very quiet at the station this week and the usual mutterings in the privets by the bus stop weren't to be heard. I was rather relieved when one chirped at me from a privet hedge as I walked home at sunset. 

A few minutes later I walked on down to the station thinking it was a bit of a cool evening for bats but it's worth five minutes' having a look. There were two soprano pipistrelles flying round the field at head height. One flew off towards the school, the other continued flying figures of eight around my head. I stood there for five minutes and bade it good luck and goodnight. It's a rum do when you're seeing more bats than spadgers.

Lazy Sunday afternoon

I refilled all the feeders yesterday, including fat balls and suet blocks as well as the usual sunflower seeds. The spadgers had been dropping hints, the cocks tapping on the windows yesterday to alert me to hungry youngsters staring wistfully into the empty feeders. So I went out for supplies and refilled all the feeders.

Spadgers 

Today they've spent the day sitting in the rambling roses taking a prolonged bath in the rain. They've hardly touched the feeders, they'll get round to it when the fancy comes to them, there's plenty of seeds and berries and insect life to be getting on with. I think it's the principle of the thing with them. I'd have missed the coal tits had I not happened to glance out of the window as they disappeared into the foliage of the rowan tree. The cock emerged briefly, a handsome bird in fresh Autumn plumage with a very rich peachy brown belly the colour of cherry leaves falling in Autumn.

Magpie in the rain

The exciting phase of the Autumn migration is kicking in and while I'm making my plans for next week it's tempting to get over excited. Do I want to boost the year list or do I want to go to All The Places or do I just want to potter about and see what I will see. Or all of the above. And then the unplanned and unexpected will happen so it's anyone's guess. And it's not like I stick to plans anyway.

The wave of waders being reported on the wires include curlew sandpipers all over the shop, a little stint in the usual place at Hoylake and an American golden plover that's skipping to and fro across the Ribble at Freckleton. A flock of glossy ibises passed through Northwest England over the weekend… a flock of glossy ibises passing through Northwest England… and a couple of individuals have lingered around Conder Green and the area round Martin Mere. And there's scaups at Moore and ruddy shelducks at the mouth of the Mersey, a thin passage of black terns and little gulls, and I haven't yet seen any ring ousels, redstarts, spotted flycatchers or crossbills this year. Or tawny owls. Or… 

I'll see what I see.

A Stretford sunset 

A dramatic sunset at the dry end of a very wet day saw the arrival of eighty-odd black-headed gulls on the school playing field. They didn't all settle, when I walked back from the station after not finding any bats there were just four dozen of them with the dozen lesser black-backs.

I'd been back from the station five minutes when the soprano pipistrelles appeared and spent the twilight whizzing round the back garden. Which was nice of them.

Wellacre Country Park

Jackdaws and rooks

It was a day largely made up of ten minutes interludes of sunshine in between heavy downpours which made me glad that I'd got so deeply into a book that I missed the train for the planned walk. 

Although the back garden seemed quiet the feathered hooligans accounted for a full feeder of sunflower seeds by mid-afternoon and had also demolished three suet blocks. I only appreciate how many spadgers are dispersed in the garden when Old Silvercheeks shouts them over to the rambling rose and they then decamp to the trackside brambles, a couple of dozen of them sometimes and nearly always with a young blue tit in tow. The mixed tit flock generally assembles some time in mid-Autumn here, in the meantime the adult great tits and blue tits go about in pairs, the young blue tits attach themselves to troupes of sparrows and the young great tits go walkabout. I don't see much of the long-tailed tits this time of year, they'll be fussing about in the trees on the embankment hidden by leaves. I've seen nothing of the coal tits nesting by the station in months though the male down the end of the road is still very vocal.

Its famine or feast over on the school playing field lately. Sometimes it's awash with pigeons, woodpigeons, rooks, jackdaws and magpies. Other days, like today, it's three woodpigeons, a couple of rooks and a magpie. The other day when it was pouring down fifty-odd black-headed gulls and a dozen lesser black-backs danced for worms all afternoon and well into twilight, today four black-headed gulls flew in at lunchtime and hung about for half an hour.

I let the thunderstorm pass by and got the bus into Flixton for a wander round Wellacre Country Park while the weather cleared.

Wellacre Wood 

Wellacre Wood was very, very quiet. Were it not for a singing woodpigeon and the calling of carrion crows in the fields I would have thought I'd gone deaf. More woodpigeons fossicked about in the fields with magpies and crows and swallows hawked low over the grass. A crowd of jackdaws and rooks passed overhead, circled noisily to gain height and headed for the roosts along the Mersey Valley. There were more swallows over Irlam Locks and black-headed gulls fussed about the water treatment works.

Rook

Jack Lane Nature Reserve 

Chiffchaffs squeaked in the trees on Jack Lane Nature Reserve and robins bathed in the puddles in the reedbeds. A couple of sand martins passed over at treetop height then drifted over to the locks. The surprise of the afternoon was a common hawker patrolling the path by the railway embankment, it felt too cool for dragonflies and if there were any about I'd have expected a brown hawker or a Southern hawker, possibly a migrant hawker. Common hawkers are typically moorland dragonflies but the local wet lowland peat bogs and mosses seem okay for them, too.

Walking over to Dutton's Pond 

The mallards, coots and moorhens mooched quietly on Dutton's Pond as the bankside swelled with teatime anglers.

I walked by Green Hill and on to the bus stop on Carrington Road. A mixed tit flock was hinted at in the trees by the rustlings of twigs and occasional calls of blue tits and coal tits.

I called it quits as I had an errand to run and the person I was doing the errands for had decided to get impatient for it. I later had a sunset wander to the station to watch the soprano pipistrelle quartering the field. It's amazing how many people stop for a chat when you're standing by a path with a bat detector in your hand.

Another lazy day

Stretford twilight 

It had been an intense couple of days' birdwatching and I had more planned for the week so I took advantage of a morning's heavy rain for a break. The spadgers made inroads on the sunflower seeds, the magpies cackled in the rowan tree and the robin struck poses along the fence. 

I was relieved to see a blackbird gobbling rowan berries, it's been a quiet August for them. I'm used to the mistle thrushes and song thrushes going missing in August, the blackbirds going AWOL is a new wrinkle.

I nipped out to the station as the sun set to watch the soprano pipistrelle quartering the field. It circled the field at shoulder height barely making a detour to avoid the two girls walking their dogs.

Lazy day

Spadgers

Another grey August day, though somewhat warmer and mellower without that cold wind. What sounded like a donkey rearranging next door's patio furniture was a juvenile house sparrow having an early morning bath. This time I did succumb to the allure of a lie-in and another hour's sleep. Needless to say, I did feel like the wreck of the Hesperus the rest of the day.

That spadger not withstanding it was a quiet day in the back garden. The suet pellets I put into the feeders haven't been a great success (there wasn't any sunflower seeds in the shop). The spadgers have been picking at them, the blue tits can just about manage to pick them out and take them into cover. The robin wasn't impressed. I got a kilo of seeds this afternoon to make amends with.

I was rather late in going out for tonight's bat hunt at the station and thought I'd missed them completely. A lad and his mother asked me what I was up to and we had a conversation about bats in general. After they'd gone I was about to give up when I knocked the frequency setting and got me a lot of fast clicks. Remarkably they were way too high to be any sort of bar, which is how I found that some large noctuid moths make a noise as they fly about. A few minutes later I had the consolation prize of a soprano pipistrelle flying by over the trees.

Bats

Stretford twilight 

After a busy day with errands and a quiet day in the garden (note to self: get more sunflower seeds) I thought I'd potter down to the station to see if I could repeat yesterday's successful bat hunt. 

Just after sunset, while the light was still good, I walked up to the Liverpool-bound platform, thinking that the combination of station lighting and trees might attract large moths and so attract bats. It certainly attracted large moths: a few large underwings flitted by and an old lady moth shot close by my left ear, I forget how huge they are. I thought I caught another in the corner of my eye and turned in time to see a small bat fly through a gap in the trees. Although I couldn't identify it it was definitely way too small to be a noctule. 

I hung around and had no further luck so I was walking out of the station when another or the same small bat shot past and started hawking over the field. This time I was picking it up on the bat detector, reassuring 55kHz Geiger counter noises as it swooped low over my head. Then I noticed that while one was over my head another was circling round an area a couple of dogs were running round. Two soprano pipistrelles, I'm quite happy with that. I watched them flying jerky figures of eight in the dwindling light before going home and seeing if I could pick them up in the back garden (I couldn't).

It's going to be a long time before I get enough records to start making sense of the bat life round here, if I ever do at all. Early days…

Home thoughts

Juvenile goldfinch 

It was another warm but not oppressive day. The spadgers had hit the sunflower seeds hard first thing then spent a while eating the last of the unripe Pyracantha berries (it's not like there's so little alternative food available they couldn't wait for them to ripen). After a bad night's sleep and a busy morning I got back home and just needed to doze off for a bit. After I woke up I had a bleary-eyed scan around the garden and wondered what the brown shape was at the bottom of one of the seed feeders. I've hardly seen any young goldfinches in the garden this year so it was nice to see a fluffy fledgling as it got the hang of how to pick seeds out of the hole.

I had an evening errand so I took this as an opportunity to take the bat detector for a walk. Dozens of lesser black-backs were flying overhead to roost, the majority of them heading for Salford Quays, a few individuals heading in the opposite direction for Woolston Eyes. 

Robins and woodpigeons were having one last song in Lostock Park. I spotted the noctule bat flying through the poplars before I caught its call on the bat detector.

Lostock Park 

On the way home in the twilight I stopped by the station. Humphrey Park is the rather grand name for the quarter of an acre of mown grass that lends it's name to the station. A couple of people were having one last walk of their dogs for the night (this is not a euphemism). A bat, entirely unconcerned, was hawking over the field at chest height. I struggled to catch its calling on the detector until I accidentally nudged the frequency setting too far down the scale. In the process of resetting it I found that this was a quite deep-voiced noctule bat calling at 19 – 20kHz. In fact, it had a few deeper notes in its repertoire, a couple of times I heard something very like the screaming of a swift, though very much quieter. I think I was more made up that I'd been able to hear a bat than I was at finally finding two in two different places on one local walk.

Home thoughts

For some reason none of the plans for the day appealed and I really didn't want to be doing with public transport. Or people. Or walking. So I had a reading day.

Outside the spadgers descended on the sunflower seeds like a plague of locusts. The youngsters are in a settled group no longer supervised by the cock sparrows. Every so often a cock will fly in to the rambling rose to check up them before going back to feeding in the brambles on the embankment. As is the local custom this gang is accompanied by one of the juvenile blue tits. One of the others tags along with the grown-ups. The adults blue tits are busy moulting and leave them to it. I suspect similar arrangements go on with the other blue tits and spadgers families. The great tits tend to stick as a family group, as do the long-tailed tits that I don't see very often as they're staying in the top canopies of the sycamores. I've seen one juvenile coal tit, pretty much by accident as I was filling one of the bird baths.

The collared doves and woodpigeons are singing in the mornings, the woodpigeons give repeat performances in the evening. The blackbird has suddenly stopped singing, no wonder, the poor beggar's probably fair wore out.

Despite the gloomy weather the garden's full of butterflies, mostly large whites and an emergence of holly blues. I'd been missing these latter this Spring, they had a bad Summer last year, hopefully this year's Spring and Summer generations will build the numbers back up. As far as I'm concerned they can eat all the ivy they want and I don't mind them having a go at the hollies and dogwoods. The black-tailed skimmer was back in this afternoon, I'll need to keep a regular eye out for it.

Bats

I've taken to standing on the doorstep at dusk armed with the bat detector. It's a habit I got into while looking for something to do while the cat goes out to check the wheelie bins prior to turning in for the night. I've seen the occasional bat hawking in the trees round here in Summers past so it's not unreasonable to give it a go. There are enough moths fluttering about the honeysuckle and the street light to make it worth the bats' while. Up to this week all I'd caught on the detector was just the one pipistrelle. I've had better luck walking through the local parks at twilight. There are bus stops either end of the parks so it doesn't look suspicious to be cutting through though lingering may be frowned upon.

The front garden at night

Weighing up the cloud cover I wondered if bats rode ahead of the rain fronts like the swifts do so I hung on awhile. Luckily the bat detector has a red light on it so if any passersby gave me a quizzical look I could pretend I was having a crafty cigarette. After about half an hour I heard a peculiar noise around the 20Mhz setting. The pipistrelles I've heard sounded like regular bursts of Morse code. This sounded like the backing on a dance track being played on a beat box. Which, it turns out, is what a noctule bat sounds like. I knew there were some nearby because I've seen them occasionally in the Mersey Valley and here one was. It'll be interesting to see hear what else is about. 

Home thoughts

Juvenile dunnock

It had been a very warm and heavy night. The blackbird and the robin were singing at four, joined not long after by one of the woodpigeons. The first of the lesser black-backs flew over from their roost about the same time. I finally fell asleep some time after twenty to five and was woken up at five on the dot by a cat demanding breakfast. This was not met with congenial warmth and I made her wait a while for it. At eight I let her out for her iron cat physical exercise regimen which these days in her dotage consists of sleeping in flowerpots and sitting on the dustbin. I sat down and slept through past noon which put the mockers on the day's plans. Just as well, really, the weather was energy-sapping and I would have struggled. A quick nip round to my dad's to sort something out for him felt like a route march through hill country.

The wren had started singing just before eight. I didn't hear it all afternoon, which isn't unusual this time of year. I did hear the spadgers rummaging about in the roses and the parakeet which I fear is starting to become a fixture though it doesn't yet come to the feeders. The goldfinches and great tits slip in quietly and it's more luck than judgement has me spotting them. A juvenile robin struck defiant poses on the arching stems of the rambling rose.

By the evening I was getting stir crazy (me choosing not to go out and my not being able to go out are two different kettles). It was a lot cooler and a nice breeze had picked up so I went for a walk in the dusk and had a quick nosy in the park along the way. I left the bins and camera at home but took the bat detector, just in case. Somebody put a lot of effort into putting bat boxes up in the trees the Winter before last, I wondered if any were in use, and if so whether I could find any of the occupants. (It's still difficult writing things like "I took the bat detector" without hearing Adam West say it in my head.)

Lostock Park 

A robin was singing behind the school sports hall as I walked down the road. Another robin was singing in the bushes by the entrance to the park. I'm still a learner with the detector, I suspect I need to learn a lot more patience with the twiddling of the dials, I'm not trying to find Radio Luxembourg. Rather despite myself I caught the sound of a bat patrolling the bushes around the bowling green. And even more despite myself I managed to identify it as a soprano pipistrelle, the rapid-fire clicking being picked up around the 55MHz mark. I've downloaded the list of frequencies (pdf file) to my 'phone so I'm not messing about again next time because I've left my notebook at home.

For all it was just a walk round the block it felt good to get a bit of fresh air. Tomorrow's promising to be a bit more bearable though with a risk of thundery showers, we'll see how it goes.

Bats

 I was getting quite giddy about our having a Nathusius' pipistrelle flying about the front garden until I noticed that the signal apparently from a calling bat coincided with a neighbour unlocking and locking his car door. 

I'd been wondering which species of pipistrelle we have flitting about the back garden some nights, the bat detector my brother bought me tells me they're not soprano pipistrelles, they're common pipistrelles. I don't mind either way, I was just curious which they were. It seems a bit mean to call them just "common" pipistrelles though. Why not "big, butch pipistrelles with deep manly voices?" or "Irish tenor pipistrelles?" It's always the sopranos gets the special treatment.

Stretford Meadows

Stretford Meadows 

A grey dawn gave me an excuse to turn over in bed and get another hour's sleep in, to be awoken by a combination of a cat demanding breakfast and a couple of parakeets having a shouting match with a rook somewhere outside.

I felt unaccountably tired and really didn't want to do anything with what was turning into a fitfully sunny day. I certainly didn't have the energy for any of the options I had pencilled in for the day. I'd still be lolling about had the cat not staged an intervention and demanded to know why I wasn't playing out on such a nice day. Actually, she demanded I vacate her sofa so she could have a kip but it amounts to the same thing. Needless to say, the moment I crossed the threshold it clouded over.

I was feeling a bit woodland walked out, which is a shame as we have plenty of them, so I drifted over to Stretford Meadows. The big surprise of the day was that despite all the recent rain only one pallette was necessary to bridge the mud at the Newcroft Road entrance.

Stretford Meadows 

I had an aimless wander round to see what was about. Robins sang in the trees near the nursery; at least four Winter territories sound to be being set up. Great tits, blue tits and wrens bustled through the undergrowth here and the flock of spadgers was back in the hedgerow. Magpies flitted about in the open spaces, dunnocks lurked in the oak saplings and goldfinches flitted between the trees. It was nice to see a linnet flying into a stand of great willowherbs, I've not seen them often here this year. Overhead was the usual steady traffic of carrion crows and jackdaws and rather fewer than usual woodpigeons. I nearly missed a stock dove, thinking it was just another pigeon.

All the oak saplings were planted by jays, no plastic tubing necessary.

The most conspicuous birdlife was the noisy flock of parakeets which wheeled about the trees by the cricket pitch. I was standing on a hill in a very Autumnal English meadow watching parakeets flying about yellowing sycamores. When I was a kid the shopping malls and car parks were green fields brim with lapwings, partridges and skylarks and these meadows were the municipal tip. And now there are parakeets. Funny how things work out.

Stretford Meadows
That's one of the stands of great willowherbs behind the sapling.

The brambles have coloured up splendidly 

I took the long way home, going into Flixton to buy some Spring bulbs. As I came out of the garden centre forty-six pink-footed geese flew overhead.

As I arrived at Humphrey Park Station two pipistrelle bats fluttered over platform two. Funny how things work out.

Scorchio

The Matto Grosso comes to Stretford

It was a hot day and I didn't feel much like going for a walk in it. Especially as I'd given the back garden a stern looking at yesterday and had concluded that Something Must Be Done before the entire area becomes an impenetrable mass of fruit bushes and rambling rose. I thought I'd have a bash at a start on it today seeing as I wouldn't be feeling guilty about disturbing any birds. The blackbirds come in for the rowan berries first thing then go into hiding, the sparrows are spending the week deep in the brambles on the railway embankment (I know this by occasional chirrups) and I suspect all the other small birds are doing similar. The only birds doing any singing this past week have been the woodpigeons and collared doves. They're not up for a dawn chorus, generally waiting until after they've had their breakfasts. By then the family of carrion crows will have galumphed over the rooftops and chased each other round the field a couple of times.

Although I wasn't disturbing any birds I was encroaching on the territories of the speckled wood butterflies and they tried to chase me off a couple of times. Their problem is that they object to each other even more than they object to me so they lose their advantage in numbers.

Twilight brought a nice surprise in the shape of two pipistrelle bats fluttering about the back garden. No idea if they're common pipistrelles or soprano pipistrelles, both are possibilities round here. Whichever they're nice to see.