Etherow Country Park

Mandarin duck 

It was a dark, muggy, overcast day. I let the worst of the rain pass and went to take photographs of mandarin ducks in the gloom. There's something about the cheerful abstraction of the patterns on the drake's plumage that's just right for this weather.

Mandarin duck 

Mandarin duck 

Mandarin duck 

Mandarin duck 

Mandarin duck 

Mandarin duck 

Mandarin ducks

Mandarin ducks 

Mandarin ducks 

There were about fifty black-headed gulls on the pool by the car park together with similar numbers of mallards and coots. An adult mute swan was accompanied by two full-grown cygnets with no sign of her mate. Tufted ducks and moorhens jostled through the crowds and a cormorant and a heron loafed at the tip of the peninsula. There were very few Canada geese about, and just the one domestic greylag. The big white Muscovy duck seemed to be on its own, too.

By the car park

Etherow Country Park 

I walked on. There were dozens of mandarin ducks on the canal, most of them sitting amongst the tree roots under the bank, often in the company of mallards.

River Etherow

As I approached the weir I spotted a dipper preening on a rock in the river, a nice bonus for the afternoon.

Dipper

Dipper

Dipper

Dipper

Keg Wood

I had a bit of a wander into Keg Wood, spending most of my time trying to pick out the runners and riders in a large mixed tit flock working its way through the trees by the wayside. I had it down to a couple of dozen long-tailed tits with a couple of great tits, a nuthatch and a handful of blue tits then the flock moved its way up into the canopy of some ash trees which had already mostly lost their leaves and I realised I had substantially underestimated the number of blue tits — there were more than a dozen and at least half a dozen great tits. The flock was silent, unlike the buzzard circling overhead and the carrion crows debating whether or not to give it a hard time. In the end they left it alone and it drifted across over Ernocroft Wood.

Walking through the beechwood

Jackdaws were making a racket of starting to head to roost as I took the high path through the beechwood back to the car park. Perhaps it's not being quite so hard to avoid the word 'quiet' this week as I'd feared.

Mersey Valley

Dipper, River Mersey

Friday was a sleeping day after an exhausting Thursday which wasn't much about seawatching. Yesterday followed the trend of very wet early morning drifting into windy sunshine. I decided I needed a writing day, if only to remind myself I can write in daylight. There wasn't a lot doing in the garden that was visible, the feeders have been emptied and I've not got fresh supplies in.

The weather today followed the pattern. I had my dinner and set off for a walk through Cob Kiln Wood.

Old Eeas Brook, a bit different to this time last month

Cob Kiln Wood 

Cob Kiln Wood was full of wasps and singing robins. The wasps buzzed about aimlessly after disappointing lives and they had my sympathy. A red admiral somehow filled all the space in one of the clearings. I eventually managed to duck it and move on. Chiffchaffs fly-catched from hawthorn bushes, mixed tit flocks silently bustled through willows and elderberry bushes and I took photos of twigs where goldcrests had been.

The electricity pylon clearing 

A common darter sat on my shoulder for part of the ride as I walked into the electricity pylon clearing. After the recent rains the comfrey was knee-high.

Cob Kiln Lane 

I walked down Cob Kiln Lane to the river, bumping into a mixed tit flock by the bridge, a large family of long-tailed tits accompanied by chiffchaffs, great tits and blue tits. At first i couldn't see anything on the river, a pair of mallards turned the corner into view as they drifted upstream to the shoals.

River Mersey 

On a whim, and despite its being a sunny Sunday afternoon, I decided to walk upstream along the river. There wasn't a lot about besides people, dogs and bicycles. Long-tailed tits fidgeted in the hedgerows, jackdaws and woodpigeons flew by, wrens, robins and great tits tutted from hawthorns, a buzzard called from the fields and a ring-necked parakeet flew over into Ashton-on-Mersey.

Grey wagtail

As I reached the bend of the river by the coffee shop I could hear but not see a grey wagtail. Eventually I found it, a juvenile almost matching the rocks it was fossicking about on.

Dipper 

I noticed a movement on the bank a couple of yards to the left. I expected to find another grey wagtail and found instead a dipper investigating the sides of the shoals here. A cormorant flew downstream as I watched the dipper.

Dipper 

Dipper 

Dipper 

Dipper 

There was a lot of noise from the Bradley Road rookery, mostly jackdaws and rooks gathering in the pre-roost but a couple of rooks were carrying sticks in. The walk through Kickety Brook local nature reserve was fairly quiet, the mixed tit flock working the pathside waa silent, as were the robins and woodpigeons.

Kickety Brook local nature reserve 

Stretford Meadows 

Over the bridge and onto Stretford Meadows and into the wind. Chiffchaffs squeaked and robins sang from hawthorn bushes. Lesser black-backs, woodpigeons and carrion crows passed overhead, parakeets screeched in the treetops and I bumped into my last mixed tit flock of the day.

I walked home and completed the circuit. It wasn't spectacular birdwatching in any way but there had been a variety of habitats with a corresponding change in the birdlife along the way.

Mersey Valley

Hornet-mimic hoverfly on hemp agrimony, Kickety Brook 

I spent most of Friday asleep, which is a pity as it looked like a nice day. Today was considerably warmer and it took a bit of an effort to persuade myself out for a walk. Luckily there was still enough of a breeze to make the walk the more pleasant once I got out into the open.

I headed over to Stretford Meadows. Collared doves and woodpigeons dozed on garden fences as I passed by. It was that sort of afternoon. A few spadgery mutterings were heard from the hedgerows of Newcroft Road. I braced myself for a quiet walk.

Arriving at the meadows I had barely passed the extended patch of rock-hard cracked mud at the entrance when a family of whitethroats gave me the collective raspberry from the depths of their bramble patch. I was a bit surprised as they're not usually this near to the trees, preferring the open spaces. Perhaps it's a reaction to the recent extreme heat, a bit less heat stress or a more reliable supply of insects? Anyway, they were keen to have me on my way.

Stretford Meadows 

It was a very quiet walk across the meadows. There was a steady traffic of woodpigeons and jackdaws overhead, whither and thither they alone knew. On the ground I saw a couple of magpies at the top of the mound. A handful of goldfinches twittered. A couple of woodpigeons rummaged about in the small oak trees checking out the state of the acorns. A handful of large whites fluttered about the brambles, meadow browns were numerous but rarely flew higher than a couple of inches above the parched ground. The nettles were wilted, the thistles and willowherbs had gone to seed, a few ragworts and small patches of black knapweed were still game. A large patch of goldenrod in full flower on one of the slopes had not one butterfly and scarce any bees or hoverflies.

The view from the top of the mound

I dropped down the Eastern slope of the mound, a couple of greenfinches letting everyone know I was passing by. Apples were ripening on the trees and bramble patches were thick with blackberries. In a Summer of disappointing blackberries I found one of the best I've had in years, so I had three and left the rest to the invisible wildlife. A cock pheasant appeared out of a patch of wilted willowherbs, ran across the path in front of me and disappeared into a line of brambles and elderberry bushes.

Rather to my astonishment, the flooded path across one of the terraces was even wetter than usual. I had been worrying about the wildlife going thirsty.

Blackberries 

I dropped down further and joined the Transpennine Route, heading for Stretford Ees. A Southern hawker patrolled the wayside. Somewhere in the depths a song thrush appeared to be doing vocal exercises. I stopped to take a photo of a blue tit in the trees and a blackcap flew into the hawthorn by my side and told me to go away.

Blue tit

By Kickety Brook 

On the other side of Chester Road things picked up a little. The brook was bone dry but the shade of the trees had provided some shelter for the wayside plants. They were dry but mostly not scorched or wilted though the Himalayan balsams were shadows of their usual selves. For once their scent wasn't overwhelming, instead it mingled with the smells of ripening blackberries and elderberries, all held together by the strangely fugitive scent of the stands of hemp agrimony. An enormous hornet-mimic hoverfly zipped past my nose on its way to the hemp agrimonies on the wayside next to me.

Hornet-mimic hoverfly 

Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about. Lesser black-backs passed overhead. Goldfinches, less than a handful, twittered in the trees. Blue tits fidgeted through the undergrowth. There was a sudden and unexpected burst of song from the trees on the other side of the brook as a garden warbler rushed out a few phrases and gave up before the end. Even the pigeons under the aqueduct were someplace else.

Stretford Weir
This collects the water from the ees when in flood and channels it down into the Mersey drain, which empties back into the river half a mile downstream, and Kickety Brook.

Goldfinches twittering in the hawthorns and the shrieks of parakeets in the trees by the cemetery provided the background to an otherwise very quiet walk across Stretford Ees. A brown hawker patrolled the reedmace in the waterless Stretford Weir.

River Mersey 

The river was, unsurprisingly, running very low. A flock of woodpigeons lined the banks as they had a drink. For a moment I thought the river was even lower than I'd thought as a grey shape pottered about the far bankside. It wasn't a woodpigeon having a paddle, it was a drake mandarin duck in its eclipse plumage. I couldn't see a female anywhere. I'd only taken a couple of steps when I noticed a bird tearing in from the mouth of Chorlton Brook. It was an adult dipper and it carried on downstream, the speed of its flight exaggerated by the sluggishness of the river. 

Mandarin duck 

A bit further down the bend a pair of mallards dabbled close to the bank. A chiffchaff squeaked from a hawthorn on the corner. I crossed over into Chorlton Ees grateful for a bit of shade. Great tits, dunnocks and wrens marked my passing by and magpies dug holes in the banks between trees as they grubbed for insects. Up in the canopy woodpigeons sang and billed and cooed and a pair of males had a punch-up, knocking each other about from tree to tree.

Woodpigeon punch-up 

Woodpigeon punch-up 

Dryad's saddle

Chorlton Ees 

It was more of the very quiet same as I walked through Ivy Green into Chorlton. There were more ring-necked parakeets in the gardens than there were in the woodland. The house martins hawking overhead as I waited for the bus in Stretford brought the day's tally up to thirty, which felt okay for this time of year.

Urmston

Goosanders and little egret, River Mersey

It was a coo what a scorcher bank holiday Saturday and I was feeling misanthropic so I binned any of the ideas for the day that involved public transport or the presence of people. Perhaps I was just tired, I was so 

 exhausted last night that I went to bed early and dozed off soon after the blackbird kicked in for the dawn chorus. So I had a teatime walk over to Cob Kiln Wood and thence into Urmston town centre and got the train for the two minute ride home.

Collared dove, Stretford
The collared dove and the woodpigeons take turns cooing down the chimney to sound bigger and bolder than they really are. Every so often they'll sing a duet and damned confusing it is, too.

Robins and blackbirds sang all the way as I walked past the station and the allotments. Collared doves and woodpigeons sang from rooftops, blackcaps and dunnocks from the hedges by the primary school and wrens from the motorway embankment. It had the makings of a noisy walk.

Walking into Cob Kiln Wood 

Parakeets added to the soundscape as I walked into Cob Kiln Wood. As I crossed the little bridge over Old Eeas Brook a titmouse churred at me as it bathed at the side of the brook. I had to look twice and even then I wasn't convinced until it flew up into the tree by the bridge to give me a good telling off. Whatever else I was expecting to find in the wood today I wasn't expecting a willow tit. I apologised and let it be, I walked on into the wood. As it turned out, the only titmouse I would see along the whole walk not mostly hidden by at least two layers of leaves would be this willow tit.

Cob Kiln Wood 

The wood smelled of elderflowers, the going over of may blossom and oak leaves. The little dragonfly pool was parched and cracked mud, the flag iris flowers hanging limply in the sun. I had missed the cuckoo pint flowers along the path, in fact I couldn't even see any leaves. Blackcaps, blackbirds, robins, chiffchaffs and wrens song, magpies rattled and parakeets screeched.

The electricity pylon clearing 

The electricity pylon clearing was surrounded by song thrushes, well nigh drowning out the songs of anything else. Blackbirds, robins and blackcaps tried their best from the trees, whitethroats from the hawthorn bushes, wrens from brambles and a garden warbler sang from the depths of a stand of dogwoods.

Cob Kiln Lane 

I dropped down into Cob Kiln Lane and walked to the river. Chiffchaffs, robins and blackbirds dominated the songscape along here. The river was low, with large parts of the steps of the weir exposed. I had a look to see if the usual grey wagtail was about and found, instead, a dipper.

Dipper
Not the best picture but given the light and the foliage in the way from any other angle it'll have to do as a record shot.

I walked over the bridge and looked at the river. Upstream there was nothing about. Downstream was a different story. A couple of pairs of mallards dabbled by the banks and down on the shoals at the bend in the river a pair of goosanders dozed in the company of a little egret while their small redheads splashed about by the Cheshire bank.

Looking downstream from the bridge
Back when the Mersey was the county boundary Cheshire was on the left, Lancashire on the right.

I debated walking on down Banky Lane and decided to walk back into Urmston.  Rather than walking the length of Cob Kiln Lane I struck on over the fields towards the bridge over Old Eeas Brook by the cemetery.

Song thrush

Every bush seemed to have a song thrush singing in it. Blackbirds and chiffchaffs sang from the trees on the margins and whitethroats and wrens sang from the brambles and nettles.

River Mersey 

As the path curved round I got a better view of the shoals of the river and noticed a heron lurking in the trees on the Lancashire bank. Sand martins hawked over the river. They used to have a big colony here on the Cheshire side but the bank collapsed about ten years ago. A smaller colony nests downstream these days.

Heron, goosanders and little egret

Walking above the ox-bow lakes 

The path entered the wooded area by the ox-bow lakes and blackcaps picked up the chorus. Chaffinches and dunnocks provided backing vocals and sedge warblers sang from the flag irises in the ox-bows. Jays, normally the most secretive of birds this time of year, made an exhibition of themselves though they took care to land in branches with a good cover of leaves to them. The leaves served the parakeets well, though, the young leaves of the ash trees matching their emerald green plumage. A couple of youngsters would have been inconspicuous if they weren't so noisy.

A pair of great spotted woodpeckers gave me a good telling-off as I walked past the cemetery into Urmston. I checked the time: I'd have ten minutes to wait for the train back home. They run every two hours, if they're not cancelled, it would have been rude not to.