Urban birdwatching: Liverpool

Cormorant, Speke Hall

Lying awake, I'd noted the progression of the dawn chorus from the robin starting to sing at the darkest hour, soon joined by the blackbird, the magpie that chattered through as the first grey light was showing, the woodpigeon singing at daybreak as the carrion crows woke up, then the wren and the blackcap kicking in and the robin shortly joining them and the blackcap didn't stop for hours. At five past eight I was still wide awake and told myself I might as well get up, it was one of those nights without sleep and the next thing I knew it was half ten. I'll probably sleep through the dawn chorus come Dawn Chorus Day.

Given the circumstances I decided I'd have an easy day of it and try and avoid much Bank Holiday frivolity. The great-tailed grackle is still singing at Speke Hall and I'm still irritated at having such a fleeting look at it so I headed thataway.

Speke Hall 

I got the train to Liverpool South Parkway, got the 80a to Speke and walked down to Speke Hall. There were lots of small birds about in the parkland and precious few to be seen. Blackcaps, wrens and robins sang from the hedgerows, blackbirds and song thrushes sang from trees, whitethroats and greenfinches sang from hawthorn bushes, and I was seeing woodpigeons and magpies.

There was a Bank Holiday event going on at Speke Hall so I kept my distance. 

Walking round the pond

I took advantage of the results of the unusually dry and windy April weather to do a circuit of the pond, in ordinary circumstances one ten-yard stretch of the circumference would be impassible. Moorhens, mallards and a pair of coots pottered about. The coots were making such a production of their not nesting that I took it for granted they had a nest somewhere. I'd just completed the trickiest part of the circuit — limboing under a fallen tree then crossing a muddy rill by walking along a stick toe to heel — when I spotted the nest and the chicks under the tree I was leaning against to get my balance on a muddy slope.

Coot with nestlings

I left the pond and walked out onto the meadows. The grackle had been reported as singing from a copse in the corner of the meadow nearest the roads. This is all new territory for me, I wasn't sure whether or not the copse was part of the field margin. The best bet seemed to be to do a circuit of the meadow following the margin and see if I could hear or see anything unusual.

The meadows

There were plenty of singing blackbirds and whitethroats and the rattling of magpies. Every so often the soundscape would be punctuated by passing carrion crows, gulls or, a couple of times, ravens. Black figures flying across the treeline were jackdaws. As I approached one corner I realised that some of the trees in the next corner stood out like a little island in the meadow. I was also starting to hear noises that weren't quite magpie or blackbird. 

The copse in question 

As I got nearer to that corner, and that copse, something in the trees let out an oddly metallic whoop. This was followed by a sporadic squeaks, chatters, croaks and whoops. Some of the sounds were similar to the blackbirds and magpies in the background, some reminded me of starlings and mynah birds. It took a while to actually see the bird, it was sitting midway up a mostly bare tree surrounded by trees in full leaf. Irnoically, I got the best view of it as I was walking back and the bird jumped up near the top of the tree. I contemplated walking back then realised that even if the bird didn't take objection there'd be no point as the lay of the land meant that the closer I got the more the grackle would be hidden by leaves. I'd seen the bird and heard it, and for a lot longer than my last fleeting vision, so I was content.

Great-tailed grackle
The least-worst of a lot of bad photos.

Walking back past the pond a cormorant was sat by the bank drying its wings not really a lot fussed as I passed by. On the other side of the pond a couple of ravens were tormenting a couple of carrion crows in the treetops until they all got bored with it and flew off in separate directions.

Cormorant

It wasn't yet teatime and I'd bought a Saveaway ticket so I thought I'd drift around the outskirts of Liverpool visiting places I've not been in yonks. The 82a was the next bus to come along so I got that as far as Sefton Park and had a bit of a wander.

Sefton Park 

The soundscape of Liverpudlian municipal parks is nigh identical to those in Greater Manchester, including the background screech of ring-necked parakeets. Blackbirds, blackcaps, chiffchaffs, robins, wrens and song thrushes sang, titmice quietly fossicked about in the undergrowth while magpies and woodpigeons clattered about. Canada geese, mallards and coots cruised about on the pond, herring gulls and lesser black-backs elbowed the waterfowl out of the way and scrabbled for food thrown for the birds.

Sefton Park 

The plan was to walk through the park and get the 68 which goes to Bootle and get off at one of the train stations along the way. The plan was. There were no buses stopping round that end because of diversions so I ended up walking up Greenbank Road to get a bus into Liverpool from Smithdown Road. I popped into Greenbank Park along the way to have a look at more Canada geese, mallards, coots and moorhens and hear more blackbirds, blackcaps and robins.

Greenbank Park 

I struck lucky in Liverpool and only had to wait twenty minutes for the train straight back home, which saved on a lot of messing about. I'd had a nice trip out, I'd revisited a few places and the birdwatching was plenty good enough for a Bank Holiday Monday.

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.

Mersey Valley

Heron, Broad Ees Dole

Spring passage is a process of overlapping waves, just as much as it's about the arrival of Summer visitors it's also about the departure of the ones staying over Winter. The last (probably) of our wintering common gulls massed on the school playing fields the other week and I was tripping over fieldfares the other day while chiffchaffs sang in trees.

Siskin

Siskins and redpolls are on the move, too, but less spectacularly and many of the ones round here aren't going very far, just from sheltered suburban woods and gardens to the Forestry Commission plantations on the Pennine hills. And some won't even be going that far, a few breed in the Mersey Valley though I haven't managed to bump into any of them. The siskin on the sunflower feeders this morning is almost certainly passing by, and a nice surprise it was, too. This is the fifth garden record, all in the first three months of the year and three of those in March. A redpoll would be a nice addition to the list, writes the boy who wants jam on it.

The crisp and sunny morning was scheduled to become a mild and sunny day so I decided on an amble along our bit of the Mersey Valley. The walking I've been doing this week (and the hot water bottle I've been putting on the knees when I get home) has got the joints working as they should, I ought to keep up the good work.

The house sparrows in the hedgerows by Newcroft Road were noisy enough to drown out the singing wrens. The trees by the car park by the garden centre were noisy with the songs of wrens, greenfinches, goldfinches and great tits. The screeching of parakeets rang out in the background. 

There was some evidence of recent rains.

Slightly damp underfoot
It's only once you tread on them you realise the palettes are floating.

Having reached terra slightly firmer I had a quick scan round. The buzzard was calling from the trees at the top of the mound and woodpigeons, carrion crows, jackdaws and lesser black-backs passed overhead. The female kestrel was hovering quite high above the slopes on this side, I saw no sign of the male today.

Kestrel

The songscape in the trees got more complicated: coal tit, chiffchaff, dunnocks, even a bullfinch joined in. Hearing the birds was one thing, seeing any of them was quite another as most of them kept deep in the willow woodland. A couple of blue tits obliged by bouncing through the birch scrub. My first comma butterfly of the year fluttered by and basked in the sun.

Comma

Stretford Meadows 

Magpies bounced about the open country, robins and wrens sang from hawthorn bushes and it wasn't until I was walking down the other side of the mound that I heard the first reed bunting. More birds passed overhead. A pair of stock doves flew by in tight formation, scarcely a hair's breadth between wingtips. I wondered where that mallard had come from and where it was going. The jackdaws seemed to be heading for the riverside rookery.

Stretford Meadows 
Looking back up the mound and remembering that this was the municipal tip I'm boggled by the amount of crap there must be under that grass.

Stretford Meadows 

Walking over to Stretford Ees 

Walking over to Stretford Ees the hedgerows were full of birdsong, a song thrush joining the others. A nuthatch called the alarm and I wondered if I was the culprit then everything went quiet. Singing was resumed once it was established the male sparrowhawk was intent on his display flight.

The pigeons were remarkably absent from under the tram viaduct. There's usually one or two around, even when they haven't got nests on the go.

The woods by Stretford Ees were quieter, just the robins, wrens and a couple of goldfinches sang though the parakeets carried on with their racket. A heron flew low over the tramway and over to the river. Two carrion crows escorted a raven off the premises. Crows escorting a sparrowhawk or buzzard will fly at their wingtips. Crows escorting a raven keep their distance. Ravens are more nimble in the air than crows and have a malicious sense of humour.

Not sure about this, it might be a brittlestem fungus or possibly one of the deceivers

We've had rain lately but I didn't think we'd had all that much so I was surprised that the river was running high and fast as I crossed over to Sale Water Park. A chap was putting his jet ski through its paces so there wasn't a lot on at this end of the lake.

Teal Pool 

There wasn't much on the Teal Pool on Broad Ees Dole, either, just a moorhen pottering about near the path and a mute swan in the reeds. It was a different story on the pool by the hide.

Tufted ducks and heron

The water was high but both islands were exposed. A heron loafed on the larger island with some teal and a pair of gadwalls. More teal and gadwalls dabbled in the pool with a pair of mallards. Behind them moorhens and dabchicks fussed about in the duckweed. Close to hand a pair of tufted ducks were feeding by the near bank. The heron decided to fly over and have a nosy round, a pair of Canada geese swam into view and took its place on the island. They swam off in a huff when the heron flew back. A chorus of whistling heralded the arrival of a buzzard on the far bank. I don't know what it was after, it wasn't ducks or water as it bounced off into the trees and out of sight.

Sale Water Park, with added jet ski 

The usual herd of mute swans were mugging for scraps on the slipway by the watersports centre in the company of a few Canada geese and mallards and a couple of coots. To my surprise nearly all the gulls were common gulls.

Coal tit

I stopped at the café to get a drink, on a childish whim I got a hot Vimto and was glad of it. Then I parked myself down to watch the bird feeders. I'd decided to haunt them in the hopes I might finally get a willow tit on the year list. Great tits were very much in evidence, coal tits and long-tailed tits barged in when they could, the blue tits seemed more interested in the insects in the nearby blackthorns.

On the way over a chap said he'd seen a very odd bird on the feeders. From his description I thought it might be a blue tit with a mite infestation. The bird appeared and confirmed my guess, and I could well see why he was puzzled. It had lost a lot of its head feathers, showing a lot of black skin, which is not uncommon with a mite infestation. This poor bird had it bad, it looked tatty all round and the yellows and greens of its plumage were greys and the blues a washed-out slaty grey. 

Forty minutes in a willow tit made an appearance, dashing in, grabbing a sunflower seed and retreating to cover to eat it. It bobbed out a couple more times but wasn't for having its photo taken. Which is a shame as it was in very bright breeding plumage, the underparts rich caramel cream and as big a pale wing panel as you could hope for identification purposes.

Hoof fungus

Barrow Brook 

I decided I'd make tracks for home. I'd have a long wait for the 248 to the Trafford Centre from Wythenshawe Road and I didn't want to be doing with trams on a Saturday so I'd have to walk up into Chorlton for the bus home. I walked down Barrow Brook to Jackson's Boat, the pathways fringed with wild garlic and the trees filled with the songs of robins and song thrushes.

Mandarin ducks

At Jackson's Boat I was surprised to hear a whistle from the river. I looked over and saw a pair of mandarin ducks steaming downstream. Another pair flew upstream as I watched them. I'm seeing mandarins a lot more often on the Mersey lately but I still don't expect to see them.

Hardy Farm 

I started walking through Hardy Farm. Chiffchaffs, robins and wrens sang and a great spotted woodpecker drummed in the treetops; blue tits and long-tailed tits bounced through the hawthorn bushes. I considered the long, boring drag up Hardy Lane to the bus stop on Barlow Moor Road. I could raise no enthusiasm for it. I took the muddy path into Chorlton Ees.

Chorlton Ees
Sadly, this path wasn't going my way. I crossed it between muddy tracks.

The songscape continued with great tits and blue tits joining in. A pair of bullfinches whistled sadly at each other in a cherry tree. A pair of jays silently bustled about in a sycamore tree. The parakeets wheeling about made enough noise for everyone.

Chorlton Ees 

It was late afternoon and the blackbirds joined in the singing in Ivy Green. Closer to the fringes house sparrows joined in, too. All tried to be heard over the parakeets and they were out-shouted by the unpaired carrion crows swaggering about on the green trying to woo the ladies.

Ivy Green 

The competition rolled over into Turn Moss, with dunnocks joining in the singing on Hawthorn Lane. I turned and walked up to Edge Lane for the bus home. I felt I deserved a pot of tea after five and a half hours' walk.

Pin Mill Brow

River Medlock

It occurred to me that I hadn't done any city centre birdwatching at all this year. There's not the incentive these days as a lot of the redevelopment and gentrification has pushed out the bird life, not many green spaces haven't been concreted over. And time was you could walk down Port Street to watch black redstarts at ground level, these days you need to work in an office overlooking a rooftop near the Town Hall. I record the birds I see as I'm passing through but that doesn't feel quite enough. I was feeling a bit idle so I thought I'd give it the once over today.

I got the train to Oxford Road. As we passed through Deansgate a raven flew low overhead towards Castlefield Basin. At Oxford Road I got the train to Piccadilly then walked up Fairfield Street towards Great Ancoats Street, turning off onto Helmet Street and walking round. It's a less direct route to Great Ancoats Street but it gives me an early view of the River Medlock. 

The rubbish-strewn banks looked worse than they ever did and it's a very long time since I've seen dippers or grey wagtails here but it's worth a look. I noticed the carrion crows were already building their nest. Truth be told, this walk's a bit of a nostalgia trip as I used to walk up this way to work in Beswick. It's only this first stretch that's anything like I remember, I don't get far up Pollard Street before getting bewildered.  The A to Z I used to first find my way about is an archaeological artefact these days.

Limekiln Lane

I crossed the road and walked down Limekiln Lane onto Pin Mill Brow and along the the Medlock. This is a tiny strip but the river and the trees did their work and I hardly noticed the heavy traffic noise beyond. Four mallards, three drakes and a duck, dabbled about in the river which was running low but fast. The mud-washed banks told the story of recent spates. They were the only birds I saw on the river today.

By the Medlock

The thin woodland was very quiet, save the dozen or more magpies rattling their way through. A few blackbirds rummaged about, a dunnock poked its head out of the brambles and a robin sang from deep in some dogwoods. And that was it. Which wasn't unduly surprising for December, I suppose.

Turkey tail fungus 

I crossed the river on Viaduct Street and wandered along the other bank of the river back to Pin Mill Brow. There were yet more magpies and a couple of woodpigeons sang in the trees. I was the bloke standing on tiptoe at the corner of Helmet Street looking over the wall to see if any wagtails were about. The only blue tit of the visit was in an empty car lot on Helmet Street. A heron flew by as I rejoined Fairfield Street.

So a quiet afternoon then. The obsessive in me is glad I did the walk anyway and I got a bit of exercise in. Hopefully I'll be feeling a bit more up to the mark tomorrow to complete the year.

Martin Mere

Mallards, pintails and whooper swans

Today had the makings of being a nice day so I headed off for Martin Mere while I had the chance.

The train ride to Burscough Bridge was pleasant and uneventful. The trackside woodpigeons were back in numbers, it wasn't often I saw just the one bird. Magpies, black-headed gulls and carrion crows were much in evidence; pigeons, blackbirds, robins, collared doves and blue tits could be seen on rooftops or stations; and there were a couple of moorhens on the pools close by Hindley Station. The Douglas had broken its banks, almost but not quite merging with the lake at Pemberton Park where only a few coots and black-headed gulls lingered. The course of the river could be traced by the mist beyond the canal beyond Gathurst. We left Parbold and passed through a mist bank, emerging just before Hoscar. I got off at Burscough Bridge for a walk on a cool, bright Winter's day.

Red Cat Lane in the mid-day sun

The jackdaws were being noisy about town but there wasn't much sign of the local rooks. Nor was there much sign of either in the fields outside town. A handful of each flew about but the arable fields were left empty. Common gulls and black-headed gulls mooched about in paddocks or bathed in puddles, starlings and house sparrows fussed about farmsteads. It was all surprisingly quiet.

Martin Mere 

Arriving at Martin Mere I went straight to the Discovery Hide, as much for a sit down as to get my eye in on the waterfowl. 

Mostly mallards

The mere was packed. There were more whooper swans and wigeons than on my last visit and a lot more greylags, pochards and tufted ducks. The flocks of lapwings and starlings looked bigger, too, but for the life of me I couldn't see what kept putting them up. The shelducks were paired up and the pairs put a lot of time into quarrelling with each other. A scan round the near bank found me a single black-tailed godwit, all the waders on the far bank looked to be lapwings.

Lapwings

Pochard

Tufted duck

Shelducks

A drake ring-necked duck has been showing well here the past few days. I soon found it, fast asleep at the edge of a raft of tufted ducks. It drifted about in dozy. A one point I thought a collision with a coot might wake it up but aside from shuffling its head and pushing its beak further into its back feathers it hardly noticed.

Ring-necked duck

Ring-necked duck

Cladonia
This lichen's on the stump next to the gate for the path to the Ron Barker Hide

The snowdrops were already showing by the Raines Observatory. I've been seeing signs of crocuses at home. It's been an oddly mild start to December, I hope we don't get caught napping with some Winter awfulness.

Pink-footed geese

Pink-footed geese fed on the potatoes at the Hale Hide while a little egret shrimped in the pool.

Little egret

Mere View Hide 

The view from Mere View Hide 

The views from the Mere View Hide were wonderful though lacking in bird life. There was some work done last week to enlarge and lower one of the windows so wheelchair users can see and it's made a big difference to the light in the hide, it feels less like standing in a pillbox. It wasn't so very long ago that the trees by the little pools here were busy with tree sparrows, I wonder why numbers have collapsed so badly.

Sunley's Marsh

Vinson's Marsh 

Teal

I had the top deck of the Ron Barker Hide to myself, which is very unusual. Vinson's Marsh, to my left, was very quiet. Sunley's, to my right, was busy with teal, they lined the banks of the pool and a couple of rafts of them dabbled and fussed on the water. The wigeons and a couple of mallards were lost in the crowd. Crows sat in the trees on the far side, venturing out every so often to irritate passing marsh harriers. At least six harriers, all of them female or immature birds, floated in and out of the reeds or sat on fenceposts at the edge of the marsh. A buzzard sat on a fencepost by a field, it took me a while to realise that the shape a few posts further along was a pheasant. A great white egret flew by but didn't stop, similarly waves of pink-feet and black-headed gulls. More closely to hand a dabchick was fishing in the drain in front of the hide.

Dabchick

Shaggy inkcap

Wandering back, I passed mixed tit flocks and checked the flocks of goldfinches in the treetops for any siskins or redpolls. I've not had a good year for bumping into redpolls and today was no exception, they were all goldfinches.

Black Bulgaria 

Walking back towards the visitor centre 

Whooper swans, mallards and wigeons

The waterfowl were gathering on the mere for the afternoon feed as I passed the screens by the path. By three o'clock the corner near the Discovery Hide would be chock-a-block with hungry beaks. In the meantime there was a lot of dozing and preening and squabbling about. The lapwings went up again and again I couldn't see the reason for it. I did manage to find a ruff in the mêlée.

Black-headed gulls, pintails, shelducks, wigeons and lapwings

Wigeons

Shelducks, black-headed gulls and pintails

Teal

A juvenile kestrel flew into the poplars by the Janet Kear Hide then flew down onto the grass on the other side of the fence to dig for worms for a few minutes before flying back into the trees.

Kestrel

Given the very damp conditions I didn't fancy the walk to New Lane so on a whim I took the short path round the reedbed walk which was mostly dry underfoot. Truth to tell, I saw a notice saying that there was a clump of bird's nest fungus a hundred yards down the path, I've never seen them before and I didn't today. But it was a very nice walk. 

Along the reedbed walk 

Reed buntings bounced about, appropriately enough, in the reeds. Cetti's warblers and wrens sang in the depths of the reeds as I passed. Teal and gadwalls and a pair of shelducks dozed and dabbled on pools. A chiffhaff squeaked as it flew between willows. Overhead a passage of lesser black-backs was just starting, they seemed to be all heading for the coast. A pair of ravens chased a carrion crow out of their patch of reedbed and in an obvious effort to replenish its self-esteem it flew over into the trees to join a gang of jackdaws barracking a buzzard.

The Harrier Hide 

Cattle egrets in the mist

The longhorn cattle were feeding in the fields close to the hides, accompanied by the now-inevitable cattle egrets. There were more gadwalls and teal with the shovelers at the Gordon Taylor Hide and a flock of pink-feet on the fields beyond. I was checking out the geese when I noticed a movement in the corner of my eye. As I lowered my binoculars a barn owl, glowing white in the low sun, flew down the drain and across the path in front of me then disappeared into the reedbeds.

I wandered back, feeling a bit giddy, and walked back to Burscough Bridge for the train home. I was so entranced by the sunset and mist-filled twilight I only caught the train by the skin of my teeth.

Red Cat Lane 

Near Crabtree Lane 

Looking towards Mere Sands Wood

By Red Cat Lane