Mosses

Blackbird, Irlam Moss

The regular reader will not be remotely surprised to hear that I left the house on a sunny day and it was raining when I got to the station. They might be more surprised to hear that it stopped raining as the train got into Irlam and it became a fine, if muggy, afternoon which seemed to bring out all the songbirds.

For once I didn't complain about late-running trains, my first swift of the year flew high overhead Humphrey Park Station three minutes after the train was due.

Dandelion 

Blackbirds, a blackcap and a coal tit sang in gardens as I turned into Astley Road from Liverpool Road. I hadn't gone far before adding great tits, dunnocks, robins, blue tits and house sparrows to the songscape and an oystercatcher called loudly as it flew past. The woodpigeons were busy feeding and couldn't be bothered joining in. Jackdaws and pigeons flew hither and thither and half a dozen lesser black-backs circled noisily, keeping two schools' playgrounds in view.

Astley Road 

The songscape got louder and more varied as I walked down Astley Road. Goldfinches, chiffchaffs, blackbirds and wrens joined in. The calls of pheasants, lapwings and carrion crows came from the fields where blackbirds and song thrushes rummaged on the turf and grey partridges bustled about the field margins. A pair of kestrels flew low over the Jack Russell's gate, they would turn out to be the only kestrels I saw all day.

Irlam Moss 

Swallows hawked over the junction with Roscoe Road and greenfinches bounced about in the hawthorns. Over the way half a dozen black-headed gulls danced for worms in the grass.

Pied wagtail
The disruptive black and white plumage works best on damp mud.

Over the motorway and the turf field was awash with black-headed gulls, woodpigeons and blackbirds. Out in the middle a couple of lapwings did a display flight. A few pied wagtails, starlings and a mistle thrush hunted along the field's edge. A pale shape fidgeting about in the mid-distance was a female wheatear. There were far more pied wagtails and starlings flitting about the horses' fetlocks in the paddocks across the road. Further down a flock of rooks had the big turf fields all to themselves.

Chat Moss at Four Lanes End 

The songscape resumed on the approach to Four Lanes End. Great tits churred and squeaked as they saw me on my way. Dunnocks, chiffchaffs and robins sang from the depths of bushes, blackcaps and blackbirds struck poses as they sang in trees.

Whitethroat 

The walk down Lavender Lane was punctuated by churring whitethroats and wrens. Mallards flew over to the wet field to the South, joining a Canada goose that seemed at a loose end. To the North, pheasants and woodpigeons rummaged about the rough grazing. Kestrels were notably absent. The chiffchaffs in the trees by the field edges gave way to the willow warblers singing in the willow scrub by the entrance to Little Woolden Moss.

Winter Hill from Little Woolden Moss

I had an aim in view in today's visit. A whinchat's been on the ploughed barley field North of the reserve and I hoped to see it, as well as check to see if the yellow wagtails are back yet. I walked round, tiptoeing past peacock butterflies and getting the raspberry from willow warblers and great tits. The usual family of carrion crows were romping over the moss, upsetting black-headed gulls, lapwings and a curlew. I looked over the field. The rest of the usual crowd of crows in the far corner, check. A handful of lapwings, check. A bunch of jackdaws upsetting the lapwings, check. And in another corner, way over, a few stones. Except one moved. Was it the whinchat? All I was seeing was a head-on view of a bird with an orange chest and a bandit mask, possibly a pale eye stripe though it may be a pale crown to the head. A good ten minutes' worth of puzzlement ensued. Then I did the thing where you look away and look back to find it, just in case it really was a stone. It was twenty yards away to the right and still unfathomable. I shifted along the path a bit to see if I could position myself for a sidewards look at the bird. It was back where it started. Then it got a fit of the fidgets and showed the silvery grey back and bright white rump of a male wheatear before flying off. I started again and found I'd been looking at two birds all along, the second was still where I found it. Five excruciating minutes later it decided to hop about a bit and I established that it had a brown back and — crucially — no white arse. It was also a dumpier bird with less back end than a wheatear. I've never worked so hard to add a whinchat to the year list.

Hares-tail cotton grass

Little Woolden Moss 

I glanced at the time. I had places to be in a couple of hours so I dashed back down Astley Road, in so far as I have a dash left in me, and caught the train to Manchester by the skin of my teeth. It was that time of day where I can get home by getting the train from Liverpool into town, stay on it and get off at my station on its way back to Liverpool. Had I missed it I'd have had to do a complicated sequence of buses and hope for the best. Can't complain too much, though, for large parts of the day the buses would be the only option. And I got to the places to be after a surprisingly pleasant and productive afternoon walk.

Carrington Moss

Carrington Moss 

It was threatening to be a pleasant day so I decided I should go for a proper walk on Carrington Moss, I've only skimmed its margins so far this year.

I could have got the 247 or 255 into Carrington and walked down Isherwood Road but rather than mess about with connections or hang around at bus stops I got the train to Flixton and walked down. That extra mile is what I would have done to get to the 255 bus stop anyway. It worked in my favour: when I had a look at the river at Flixton Bridge a pair of gadwalls were swimming downstream and a dipper flew upstream.

I had another stroke of luck at the top of Isherwood Road. I was scanning the fields to see if any swallows were about — they nest at the stables — and I didn't just find swallows swooping over the horses, there was also my first house martin of the year.

There was a wealth of birdsong as I passed by the light woodland between Isherwood Road and Carrington Logistics Hub. Robins, blackcaps, great tits and chiffchaffs were making most of the running, a few blackbirds and willow warblers and a song thrush providing backing vocals. A raven cronked atop the electricity substation before flying off over Carrington.

Carrington Moss 

I joined the path running between the fields and the Shell Pool enclosure. The trees and bushes behind the fencing were almost in full leaf so I was hearing more black-headed gulls, Canada geese and coots that I was able to see on the pool. At least two black-headed gull nests were on the go. The trees were busy with singing chiffchaffs and willow warblers.

A dozen carrion crows rummaged about on the nearby field. I could hear skylarks but struggled to find them and when I did I struggled the more actually identifying them. Despite the clouds, the light was bright and high contrast;  against the almost black soil the larks weirdly glowed bright sandy white when they were out in the open. A couple of pied wagtails skittered about. When I got to the corner of the field and looked back I was better able to recognise the skylarks. There were also two other, less chunky, birds glowing pale yellow. Were these my first yellow wagtails of the year? I wasn't convinced, perhaps it was a peculiar trick of the light and they were just more skylarks, I mean, besides being the wrong shape, size and colour they were dead ringers. They took pity on me, took off and flew all of three yards along the distant field, enough time to confirm them as wagtails. Presumably they were female yellow wagtails, a yellow head of a male would have glowed like a beacon in this light.

Entering the woodland 

I turned into the bit of light woodland on the track that becomes Brookheys Road. Blue tits, great tits, robins and wrens skittered about in the bushes. Blackbirds chased each other across the track and through tree canopies. All about was a cacophony of birdsong. The chiffchaffs gave way to blackcaps. Robins, blackbirds, great tits, wrens and dunnocks competed for air time. Goldfinches and greenfinches twittered past. A chaffinch gave a song a go and gave up because it could hardly hear itself over a song thrush. Somewhere in the background were woodpigeons, pheasants, carrion crows and black-headed gulls. In the midst of all this, as I passed some hawthorns that had taken a bashing when a birch tree fell over, I could hear something shriller and faster than the blackcaps, in a desperate hurry to get the end of the song finished. I tried in vain to see the garden warbler. I do a lot of finding where a bird is by ear and I had little chance in this environment. And no chance at all once a whitethroat hopped over and joined in. Still, it's a nice problem to have, walking through silent countryside this time of year is awfully worrying.

Yellowhammer
All the other photos were of burnt-out yellow blobs.

At the crossroads I turned onto Ashton Road, trying and failing to photograph the blackbirds, blackcaps and whitethroats singing in the hawthorns or the greenfinches disbudding the flowers. A chap on a bike rode up and we let on and exchanged notes. He'd found plenty of wheatears about on the field immediately to the South. No sooner said than seen, on my first scan round I found a couple of female wheatears striking distant poses on ridges on the deeply furrowed ground. There might have been half a dozen out there, there might just have been three, they were up and down the ridges like jack-in-the-boxes. A male white wagtail was a lot closer, flying in for a drink from a puddle on the road just in front of me and off again before my camera was out of my bag. A bright yellow shape hopped across the field. At first I couldn't identify it, it was just a butter yellow glow. As I got closer I could see it was a male yellowhammer, a nice find as these are another farmland bird I'm struggling to find in previously reliable haunts.

Wheatears and skylarks

Birch Road

I walked down Birch Road. I usually avoid this as there's generally traffic to and from the United training ground but I didn't want to walk back up Ashton Road to join Brookheys Road to walk down to Sinderland Brook. There were only a couple of cars today and the trees lining the road were full of titmice, robins, blackcaps and chiffchaffs.

The Irlam to Altrincham line 

As the road met the brook I joined the track running down into Broadheath, another footpath bequeathed to a grateful nation by Doctor Beeching. The songscape resumed, this time with greenfinches becoming active participants. A grey wagtail skittered about the kingcups in a trackside pool, it's not often I get the full set on one day.

A trackside pool 

I emerged into Broadheath and got the 247 back to Davyhulme and had five minutes to wait for the bus home. Along the way the active rookery on Woodsend Road brought the day's tally to 49 species, that fiftieth eluded me and my knees were too insistent on telling me I needed to get home and get my tea for me to add on a side excursion, special like.

Marshside

Little gull

The weather looked uncertain so I decided to head over to Southport and have a nosy at Marshside. If the weather behaved I could walk to Crossens, if it didn't then I could sit in Sandgrounders a while then beat a retreat back for the bus to Southport. In the end I beat the retreat but it was a far from disappointing visit.

A skylark sang over a football match on the school playing field on Marshside Road. I noticed that nearly all the molehills had been dispersed, the last time I came it looked like a particularly challenging dribbling course had been set up. Small flocks of house sparrows and starlings bustled between the houses and gardens and the nature reserve.

The marshes were now mostly dry, dotted about with networks of Canada geese, lapwings and greylags. Coots and moorhens hurried about, mallards dozed, teals and shovelers dabbled and black-headed gulls made a racket.

By Marshside Road 

A whitethroat sang at the Junction Pool. A few tufted ducks bobbed about, shelducks loafed with mallards, a pair of mute swans cruised about like a minesweeper patrol. A couple of dozen black-tailed godwits, mostly in rusty brown breeding plumage, huddled together to doze. I could only see a handful of avocets and they were all feeding at the water's edge. A few redshanks and a pair of oystercatchers made a lot of noise and a couple of ruffs barged about in the mud.

Marshside

Little egret

Talking about barging, that's precisely the interaction between two little egrets on the opposite corner, one flying in, clattering into the egret feeding in a drain and sending it flying off and away up the road.

Little egret and Canada geese

Black-headed gulls

The rain which had been teasing up to now started in earnest just as I reached to pool next to Sandgrounders. I stood in the rain trying to work out how many little gulls were flitting about around the black-headed gulls. There were at least two adults, their wings pale grey edged white above and all black below. And there were at least two first-Winters, each with a thick black letter M drawn across their wings and back. One had the slightly darker wings, as if the charcoal was softer and smudged more when it was applied. They were obligingly close but restless and difficult to track as they jinked about amongst the other gulls.

Little gulls (the two birds in flight top left) and black-headed gulls

Little gull

Little gull (top left, in flight) and black-headed gulls

Black-headed gulls and little gull (top, centre-right)

Black-headed gulls and little gull (in flight)

Black-headed gulls and little gull (centre top)

Little gull
Like I said the other day, the rounded wing tips and the lack of a white flash on the wing makes a little gull look very different to a Bonaparte's gull, even if you can't properly see the black underwings.

Little gull

Little gull

Little gull

Little gull

Black-headed gulls

Common sense prevailed and I took refuge in Sandgrounders. The black-headed gulls were mostly settled down, some on nests, and all were noisy. A couple of males flew in to feed sitting females, a bit of pair-bonding that reassured that the chicks will get fed.

Shoveler and black-headed gulls

Behind the shingle island a couple of dozen redshanks fed busily in the channel, in the company of a couple of ruffs and a couple of dunlins, one of which was in breeding plumage with a striking black belly. Behind them slightly more black-tailed godwits split their time between feeding and preening.

Little gull

Little gulls, adult left

A little gull flew in and landed in front of the redshanks. A couple of minutes later a first-Winter bird landed right next to it, providing a very nice comparison. The younger bird looked bigger but that might have been an illusion caused the the solid black band along its wing. Then a third came to join them and this was different again, having mostly white wings with little black on them. I think that must be a second-Winter plumage. Then a little ringed plover skittered past them. I was having some indecently lucky birdwatching.

Little gulls (left) and black-headed gulls

I decided that before I scuttled back for the bus I'd cross the road and have a quick look at the sand plant. I'd heard wrens, dunnocks and greenfinches in the trees here as I walked to Sandgrounders, there might be something else about. I took a bit of shelter from the wind and looked over the outer marsh just in case a spoonbill might be feeding in one of the pools. One wasn't but there were still a few pink-footed geese amongst the Canada geese in the long grass.

I looked through the gate, thinking there might be a wheatear or wagtail on the grass in the sheltered hollow. Not today there wasn't. Then a Cetti's warbler sang from the depths of a hawthorn bush by the gate. Try as I might I couldn't see it even though it must have been within arm's reach. This prompted me to check out the bushes on the perimeter of the sand plant. A dark grey lump in a small tree turned out to be a male sparrowhawk trying to take shelter from the rain. It was being mobbed by a whitethroat, a couple of chiffchaffs, and a female redstart.

The sand plant was paying dividends so I ignored the rain, which was trying its best, and walked round to the side by the car park. A couple of greenfinches and a reed bunting sheltered in the trees. A chiffchaff fly-catched from a stunted willow. I shuffled round a willow bush to get a bit of shelter as I looked at the trees up the slope and heard a song at my shoulder. It occured to me I wouldn't know a firecrest's song, it was a goldcrest that fidgeted into the next bush.

Gorse

I'd had a damned good lunchtime and saw no need to add pneumonia to the lucky bag. As I walked back up Marshside Road black-tailed godwits were feeding by the roadside drain. I looked back over the road at Junction Pool for one last go and found a second-Winter Mediterranean gull loafing by a pair of shelducks. Some days you can be too jammy for words.

Black-tailed godwits

Black-tailed godwit

On the way back the big rookery at Burscough Bridge Station and the smaller ones on Sutch Lane and near Hoscar Station were hives of activity. The usual hares were on their usual field outside Parbold. Further along there was no sign of the eagle owls in their aviary, I hope they were keeping out of the rain.

Merseyside bumper bundle

Garganeys, gadwall, tufted ducks and shoveler, Ainsdale Sands Lake

When I first started year-listing seriously the temptation was to go haring round chasing reports of this, that and the other. That temptation still persists, particularly during exceptionally juicy bits of Spring and Autumn passage, but I've settled into the less stressful process of just getting out there, having a walk and see what I bump into. Which doesn't mean that I won't visit known migration hot spots or that I'm not going to make a detour if something turns up nearby. And so it was today: the plan was to have a walk along the Wirral coast between Hoylake and Leasowe, which is usually busy with Spring migrants, then head over to the Sefton coast, anywhere between Seaforth and Southport, to see what else might be about and in the end followed a report of a pair of garganeys at Ainsdale Sands Lake and got some very nice views of them.

A male white wagtail cavorting on the roof of Birkenhead North Station as the train stopped there was a reminder that migrating birds will be where they'll be regardless of human expectations.

Hoylake Beach 

I got off the train at Manor Road and walked down to the promenade. I was expecting to find pied wagtails in the salt marsh and hopefully a few white wagtails amongst them. It was low tide and to say the salt marsh was barren would be almost an understatement. It came as a relief to find a pair of mallards dozing in a puddle. Then a curlew wandered into the edge of the marsh to complete the crowd scene. There wasn't a great deal of cover on the marsh, there are ongoing efforts to stop it encroaching on the beach. The countless millions paid to Dutch engineers over the centuries to reclaim land from the sea and when Mother Nature does it for free people say: "Don't like."

Redshanks

The hordes of waders that are a feature of the coast here in Winter were but a memory. There were a few redshanks dotted about and an occasional curlew. Most of the herring gulls and lesser black-backs loafing sporadically on the mud were subadults. And aside from a great black-back and three pigeons, that was the full offer from the promenade to the groyne, and I thought it was quiet last time I visited a couple of weeks ago. I met a group of birdwatchers who told me the common was fizzing with Spring arrivals. I wished them better luck than I'd had along the prom.

Silver Y moth on dandelion

I gave up on the revetment and walked through Meols Dunes to Leasowe Common. Most of the time I was picking my way through swarms of mining bees buzzing about at ankle height. Bumblebees, butterflies and silver Y moths fussed about carpets of dandelions and red dead nettles and moved out of the way of clumsy old men.

Linnet

House sparrows, collared doves, starlings and woodpigeons fussed about the caravan site and a kestrel watched over them from a treetop. Out on the dunes the gorse bushes were in full flower, the air was thick with the scent of coconuts and the bustling about inside the bushes turned out to be linnets, sparrows or both. Stonechats preferred the bramble patches, fly-catching from the highest twigs.

Stonechat

I started hearing chiffchaffs on my approach to Leasowe Common. By the time I joined the path in, they were joined by robins, greenfinches, blackbirds and blackcaps. Over in the paddocks there were a handful of wheatears and a couple of white wagtails flitting about between the horses.

Walking by the pond 

Dunnocks, great tits, goldfinches and wrens joined the songscape as I took the rough path into the woodland around the pond. Such was the noise I could barely hear the reed warbler singing deep in the reeds. And then the Cetti's warbler exploded into song. The water rail squealing as it disappeared into cover might as well as saved its breath in trying to compete with the others.

A very fidgety chiffchaff landed in the small bush by my side and started singing

The same chiffchaff, this was his more usual pose

Chiffchaff 

I looked in vain for redstarts and ring ousels in the paddocks, finding blackbirds, woodpigeons, greenfinches and house sparrows. There was more of the same behind Leasowe Lighthouse together with some chaffinches and magpies. My first whitethroat of the year sang from an elder bush by the car park. A few swallows flew in and one perched on the telephone wires above my head and posed nicely for a photograph.

Swallow

At first glance Kerr's Field looked quiet, a few woodpigeons and blackbirds, a curlew and a quartet of sleeping little egrets that would have made a nice picture if a gate wasn't in the way. I let on to a couple of birdwatchers I've met here before and we compared notes. We were all a bit disappointed at the lack of wheatears and wagtails on here. We went out different ways, they to look round the common and me for Moreton Station. I had one last look back and saw a pied wagtail pop up from a rut in the field by the land drain. A white wagtail scampered up a rise and started rummaging about the margin. Then I noticed there were five wheatears in the far corner. All had been invisible before, it was only because the path rises to meet the road I got the necessary point of view. That last look back over a landscape is so often productive.

The wheatears on Kerr's Field kept their distance

I was thinking of moving on to Crosby Marine Lake but felt a bit lukewarm about crowds on a sunny Easter school holiday afternoon so I checked on Bird guides to see whether anyone had seen anything interesting elsewhere. A pair of garganeys had been seen on Ainsdale Sands Lake, which was also on my to-visit list, so off I went.

The walk from Ainsdale Station to Ainsdale Sands Lake feels longer than it really is. It's less than a mile but the road's dead straight with houses each side so it seems to go on forever. I got to the lake, sat down on a bench to give the knees a break, looked up and a pair of garganey swam past. In snooker they apologise for a fluke.

Garganeys and gadwall 

Garganey

Gadwall, garganey and shoveler

Garganey and tufted duck

Gadwall and tufted duck

Shoveler

Tufted duck

Garganeys, drake below

Garganey 

Garganey and gadwall

Pairs of mallards, gadwalls, shovelers and coots pottered about. The tufted ducks seemed to be making an effort not to look like being in pairs. A pair of great crested grebes were nest-building. As I walked round the songs of willow warblers, chiffchaffs, blackcaps, great tits and coal tits almost drowned out the sound of skylarks singing overhead the dunes beyond. Wrens and blue tits and a pair of long-tailed tits bounced through the willow scrub. Only as I came to write this did I realise there were no robins until I went back to the road. I finished my walk round, had one last appreciative look at the garganeys as they headed for cover and walked back to the station. It isn't often I get to see a garganey close to and out in the open and still more rarely do I get to see a pair.

Ainsdale Sands Lake 

Checking the trains it turned out that I'd get home quicker via Southport than Liverpool so I headed that way, getting the 49 bus to Southport to save my walking all the way to Ainsdale Station. I can only think the weather's on the turn giving the complaints from the knees. From the train back to Manchester through the West Lancashire Plain I added a pair of red-legged partridges, a grey partridge and a female marsh harrier to the day's birdwatching tally. And I'd added three more to the year list with reed warbler,  whitethroat and garganey.

Meols Dunes