A day out

Wren, Lapwing Hall Pool

Despite the weather being less fierce than it has been — but still a tad warm —I've had a very lazy weekend and felt the need to get some traipsing about done. I got myself an old man's explorer ticket, played Piccadilly Station bingo and found myself going to Stoke. Like you do.

The building work on the University of Staffordshire campus has cut off most of the footpaths to and around the River Trent on Manorfields. I walked across the sports field, across the bridge, and along the few hundred yards of path up to the construction site then retraced my steps back to the station. It wasn't an entirely wasted hour, though 

Comma

Magpies and black-headed gulls found what shade they could at the corners of the rugby pitch as they fossicked about in the parched grass. One magpie had had enough and clung to the base of a goalpost to catch its breath in its relatively deep shade. Meadow browns, gatekeepers and a comma bustled about in the thistles by the side.

Female large blue
I think. I couldn't get a better look than this at the underwing so there's the possibility it might be a brown argus. It wasn't attacking any other butterflies and it was that which persuaded me it was a female common blue in the end.

The walk was dominated by butterflies, most of the birds were rustlings in the trees and hedgerows. A mistle thrush joined the blackbirds feasting on rowan berries. Titmice flitted past like shadows, a chiffchaff squeaked, a jay screeched, a great spotted woodpecker called as it flew low overhead and into the trees by the construction site. 

Ringlet

The most picturesque stretch of the river had a child in it. He and his mother were having a picnic and I couldn't blame them. The mallards and moorhens muttered loudly about having their favourite lounging spot thus occupied. The moorhens, as ever, were very vocal about their grievances.

Mallards

I decided to go over to Acre Nook Quarry to see if I could find the ruddy shelduck that's spent the past few days there. It was a long shot as it was reported as being over at the far end of the quarry away from Lapwing Lane but don't try, don't see. I got the train back from Stoke, got off at Macclesfield and got the 87 bus to Chelford, getting off at Ivy House, just by the roundabout.

Chicken of the woods

It was a warm walk down Holmes Chapel Road and I was grateful for the shade of the roadside trees. In the eerie quiet — there weren't many cars either — a calling nuthatch sounded vaguely uncanny, a green woodpecker would have put the wind up me and no mistake. A coal tit came out of the trees to have a look at me as I negotiated the very narrow pavement over the South bridge and I was very glad to see it.

Holmes Chapel Road 

The sheep weren't on the parkland further down the road, the usual crowds of jackdaws evidently went with them. I walked under the dappled shade of the sweet chestnuts on my side of the road, tiptoeing round common blue damselflies and razzed by the blue tits in the hedgerow. Over the far side of the field behind the hedgerow the little pond was hidden by vegetation but was made conspicuous by the lush greens against the straw browns of the rest of the field and the dozen Canada geese and pair of Egyptian geese craning their necks to check me out.

Egyptian geese and Canada goose 

The walk down Lapwing Lane was pretty quiet. Swallows and house martins hawked overhead and tree sparrows muttered in the hedgerows.

Painted lady 

The path to Acre Nook Quarry was busy with common blue damselflies and the verges busy with gatekeepers, red admirals and painted ladies. Southern hawkers and emperor dragonflies patrolled the banks of the quarry and the edge of the trees by the path, and very intimidating they were too.

Acre Nook Quarry 

Nearly all the birds were way over the other side of the quarry, there was only a mallard and a couple of black-headed gulls on this side. There was a noisy raft of black-headed gulls further out, separate from a smaller raft of lesser black-backs and a few herring gulls. Great crested grebes, tufted ducks and coots pottered about, a couple of cormorants dried their wings and the far banks were littered with Canada geese and mallards. Way, way over there were lots of white dots that were almost certainly black-headed gulls and dark dots that may have been coots or tufties. Yonder, probably,  was the ruddy shelduck. Ah well, no matter, it was a fine day for seeing what you can find on a big pool. A drake pochard was a surprise. The reed buntings fussing about in the willows on the bank weren't but they were reassuring to find. And a female emperor dragonfly actually stopped for a break long enough for me to take a photo.

Emperor dragonfly 

Acre Nook Quarry, Alderley Edge in the distance 

My eye kept getting drawn to a figure on the edge of the Canada geese over on the far bank. It was a silhouette and I couldn't make it out and I gave up. As I was walking back I had another look at it and was still puzzled. The change of angle meant I was seeing the bird on its own. It wasn't low-slung like a mallard but it wasn't a coot because it was mallard-sized. It was like a nagging tooth and I kept looking back at it as I walked along. The fourth time the angle had changed enough for the bird to be no longer in silhouette and sure enough, it was the ruddy shelduck I'd told myself I wasn't going to get to see today.

Walking back to Lapwing Lane 

Lapwing Lane 

I carried on down Lapwing Lane and turned into The Mosses. This end of Lapwing Lane had been busy with titmice, blackbirds and a couple of willow warblers, and commas and holly blues fluttered about the bushes. The Mosses were very much quieter, a few woodpigeons, blackbirds, chiffchaffs and wrens and the butterflies were gatekeepers and large whites. I didn't mind, the dappled shade was welcome and it was a very agreeable walk.

The Mosses 

By Lapwing Hall Pool 

It wasn't so quiet by Lapwing Hall Pool but it was a slow start. At first I was only seeing woodpigeons, red admirals and meadow browns. Then a few peacocks and gatekeepers fluttered onto the scene. I could hear but not see mallards. It was only when the path met the hedgerow by Congleton Road that I started seeing and hearing much birdlife. Titmice and nuthatches fidgeted through the mature oaks by the road, reed buntings and willow warblers in the willows by the pool, and goldfinches, blackbirds and dunnocks in the waysides by the path. As the path shifted away from the pool chiffchaffs were flycatching from hawthorn bushes and long-tailed tits bounced through the brambles. Common blue damselflies swarmed about the patches of open meadow, Southern hawkers patrolled the margins of bushes and hedgerows. At last the path returned to the lake where a pair of coots were feeding a couple of youngsters and a pair of mute swans fed just off the bank.

Common blue damselfly 

Lapwing Hall Pool 

It had been hard walking: the ground had been baked dry and it was rougher on the feet than road-walking. I decided not to complete the circuit of the pool and took the gap in the hedge onto Congleton Road and walked back to Chelford. As I was walking over the South bridge I had a nosy to see if anything was on the little stream and noticed a female banded demoiselle sunbathing in the bushes.

Banded demoiselle 

By the time I'd walked over to Chelford Station I was feeling hot and footsore so I knocked on the head any mad fantasies about having a late teatime stroll round Sandbach Flashes. Still, I hadn't done so bad.

Martin Mere

Black-headed gulls

Sure as eggs, one of the young blue tits has tagged onto the troupe of sparrows. That should see it through the Winter. I noticed it as I was getting ready to go out. I hadn't got round to visiting Martin Mere yet this month, after planning to do so last week, so I made sure to take precautions for the hayfever, slapped on the factor thingy and headed out that way.

By Red Cat Lane 

It was a cloudy and unpromising sort of day, ideal for walking at this time of year. Crowds of jackdaws and woodpigeons rummaged about in the fields beside Red Cat Lane. Skylarks sang in the distance, blackbirds and wrens sang in the hedgerows, house sparrows and goldfinches fussed about the gardens and farmsteads. I don't know what it was that made me look twice at a sparrow on a telegraph wire but I'm glad I did, it feels like lifetimes since I last saw a tree sparrow down this way. Five minutes later I was being given the raspberry by a corn bunting and escorted out of its patch. I had honestly given up on both of them here. I'm glad to be wrong.

Corn poppies

Curlew Lane

I had a quick nosy up Curlew Lane. Swallows and house martins hawked over the fields and a few dozen black-headed gulls and lesser black-backs were following the ploughed a few fields down. It wasn't my day for yellow wagtails.

The field across the road from Martin Mere was carpeted with black-headed gulls, adults and their tea-stained youngsters alike. There were plenty more to come as I walked in.

Black-headed gulls and shelduck

As usual, I headed straight for the Discovery Hide. A chap already in there said: "There's a sandpiper right in front of you if you're interested." It took me a minute to find it, from my angle there were a lot of dock leaves in the way. Ironically, I got better views when it moved away onto the little spit in front of the hide.

Common sandpiper

Common sandpiper

Common sandpiper

Black-headed gulls

There were still black-headed gulls nesting on the mere. Some of the chicks were tiny, most had fledged and were capable of at least some weak flight. Mallards and their tiny ducklings seemed intent on losing each other. The larger ducklings stuck to their parents (actually, this is a guess: as well as mallard ducklings wandering off at the drop of a hat and tagging along with whatever, the ducks have a habit of hedging their bets by laying a few eggs in other ducks' nests, and not always are they mallards'). Shelducks had near full-grown ducklings, coots and moorhens had everything from tiny chicks to full-grown in tow and some of the full-grown juvenile moorhens had been given babysitting duty. A few Canada geese and greylags mooched about over on the far bank with a couple of common terns and some oystercatchers and lapwings. Otherwise, besides all these crowds of birds, it was fairly quiet.

Juvenile moorhen and chick

Black-headed gulls and mallard

Black-headed gulls

By the Hale Hide

Blackcaps, wrens and a song thrush sang in the trees as I walked over to the Ron Barker Hide. Titmice and robins were shadows in the undergrowth. I popped into the Hale Hide to get a different perspective on the mere and see what was on the little pool there. A few mallards and their ducklings pootled about and coots and moorhens fussed. Way over in the distance I could see a heron perched on a gatepost in the reedbeds. It took a while to work out what the smaller, darker figure was on the adjacent gatepost — I will admit I got my hopes up that the glossy ibis had returned — but eventually it woke up and turned out to be a juvenile heron.

The Mere View Hide 

The Mere View Hide was very quiet indeed save for a Cetti's warbler singing in the brambles and a sedge warbler singing in the flag irises.

The Ron Barker Hide was quietish. Families of well grown mallards and shelducks drifted about on the pools and tiny tufted ducklings dibbled about with their parents in the brook. Swallows dashed about with gay abandon. I looked in vain for the whooper swans I saw last time. The large white shape on the bank was two great white egrets sleeping side by side. Families of greylags grazed the near banks, Canada geese were in the tall grass with the longhorn cattle. I could see no cattle egrets about.

Great white egrets, tufted ducklings, coot, moorhen and mallards

A female marsh harrier was busy, it flew in stage left and was greeted by two immature birds. She rose up in the air, the two young birds following. She dropped whatever it was she had in her talons and one of the youngsters caught it in mid air. She did a couple more food drops while I was in the hide. While she was away the youngsters joined another couple of young birds I hadn't noticed sitting in a tree at the back of the reedbed.

One of the harriers passing close by caused a sudden appearance of a white object at the top of the reeds in the pool on the right. I noticed it and had a look, expecting it to be the head of one of the whoopers having a look round. It turned out to be a cattle egret sat on the back of a cow hidden by the reeds. Another pass-by saw three cattle egrets stick their heads up and judging by the erect crests and jabbing bills of the two adults they weren't best pleased at the harriers.

Cattle egret

On the way back I had to stop a moment while a water shrew ran across the path and into cover.

The Harrier Hide from the Reedbed Walk 

The afternoon was young so I headed over to the Reedbed Walk. The path by the United Utilities Hide was closed for resurfacing so I followed the path round from the Harrier Hide. I was very conscious that I'd been a couple of hours in a wetland reserve and hadn't seen any dragonflies. I quickly bumped into a handful of common blue damselflies, thin gruel after yesterday's Hodbarrow banquet. There was a thin background songscape, a few Reed buntings, a couple of Cetti's warblers, a reed warbler, the clamour of black-headed gulls, and the quiet fussing about of mallards, shelducks and coots talking in their sleep on the pools behind the reeds.

Black-headed gulls

Gatekeeper

For all the weather was dark grey and a bit cool there were loads of butterflies about. The waysides between the Discovery Hide and Rob Barker's were busy with meadow browns with a few red admirals, small tortoiseshells and commas fluttering about. The reedbeds were heaving with gatekeepers. A few red admirals and small tortoiseshells were about and the excellent year for painted ladies continued but there were two dozen gatekeepers for every other butterfly. The dragonflies were few and far between and all black-tailed skimmers.

The Reedbed Walk 

A working party with strimmers passed by in their little off-road vehicle (not quite a car but significantly more than a golf buggy). I'm putting years on myself admitting I thought: "Daktari" as they passed. For once I felt a bit self-conscious putting my mask on as I passed them working, it looked a bit pointed. Unfortunately the hayfever had already kicked in badly and I didn't want to give it any more encouragement.

Teal and black-headed gulls

A few teal and lapwings fed on the remains of the pool at the Gordon Taylor Hide. Teal are so secretive this time of year I rarely see the males going into eclipse plumage, a couple of them were well into the moult here. A few of the nesting black-headed gulls still had very young chicks, nearly all the older birds were flightworthy if clumsy. I looked in vain for any waders that weren't lapwings or oystercatchers.

A lot of black-headed gulls were making a racket overhead. A different gull call stuck out from the noise, something more like the sound of a penguin at the zoo. I was quite pleased to find the pair of Mediterranean gulls almost immediately I looked up. I was running lucky today. Even luckier in fact: I heard a chaffinch-like song coming from the hawthorns in the out-of-bounds part of the reedbed and just at the point I'd convinced myself that no, it wasn't a lesser whitethroat, it was a chaffinch having singing practice a chaffinch started singing from the trees by the water treatment works to remind me what they really sound like. It never fails to surprise me that when you compare the songs of common and lesser whitethroats it's the lesser whitethroat that sounds like Tom Jones.

At the Rees Hide

At the Rees Hide the pool was a distant memory.

Walking back to the visitor centre I was accompanied by a Southern hawker. There were plenty of midges and mozzies about so I was happy for it to make inroads on any coming my way.

Red Cat Lane 
Winter Hill had disappeared behind a bank of rain. It should be behind those trees.

The cosmic balance has to be respected. I hadn't gone far once I left Martin Mere before the heavens opened. There's some shelter on the way to New Lane so I could have walked that way and got the slightly later train, the trouble there was that depending which site I checked that train may or may not have been cancelled and as they only run every two hours it was a chance I was unwilling to take. There's no shelter between Martin Mere and Burscough Bridge and its half-hourly train service so there was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

Corn bunting

I'm very glad I did: the corn bunting gave me another good telling off and I spotted why it was so agitated. It's more than twenty years since I last saw a juvenile corn bunting.

Juvenile corn bunting

Bempton

Gannet

I've been telling myself for two months that I should be getting out for a visit to Bempton Cliffs. I was wide awake at silly o'clock so I got up, had breakfast then got the trains over there. As it happened, it was a wise move: it was swelteringly hot at home with a Very High pollen count while at Bempton it was merely warm and sunny with a fresh sea breeze and all the grasses uncut and gone to seed, so I had a very pleasant time of it. It was a shock coming back to the sweltering heat.

I got the train to Sheffield and the Scarborough train to Bempton. The highlight of the journey was the three marsh harriers we passed South of Driffield, a male pouncing on something in one field and two female-types quartering the fields a little further along.

Swallow

Bempton Station was full of song. Swallows twittered about the houses, goldfinches and linnets sang from telephone wires, blackbirds and chiffchaffs sang from the roadsides. Swifts swarmed low over the village green and St. Michael's Church, which I found very encouraging. As I set off up Cliff Road the house sparrows of the village gave way to the tree sparrows of the farmland and I was on my way.

Cliff Road 

Skylarks sang in the fields by the roadside, whitethroats and yellowhammers joined the goldfinches and greenfinches singing from the hedgerows. I stopped at every gap in the hedgerows, in part to savour the landscape and in part of wallow in the cool sea breeze. The excellent year for painted ladies continued, I passed at least a dozen fluttering about the roadside nettles and they easily outnumbered the large whites, peacocks and small tortoiseshells.

Bempton Cliffs was, quite understandably, very busy. Very busy nature reserves provoke my antisocial instincts but I've no call to moan about it, they were all there for the same reason I was. And it's a big enough reserve to be able to avoid the jam-packed watchpoints and still have a very rewarding visit. Which is what I did.

Joining the same path i was walking in North Wales the other week.

The tree sparrows fidgeted about the visitor centre, heard more often than seen as they were busy foraging in the undergrowth and the depths of the meadows. Reed buntings were conspicuous, it seemed like there was a singing male in every other bush. Meadow pipits and linnets were numerous but kept their heads down in the meadows most of the time. And all the time a male kestrel quartered the fields and clifftops.

Bempton Cliffs

Gannet
The first sight as I got to the cliffs

Gannets

Gannets a-courting

The gannetry was teeming. All the while there was a background hubbub that reminded me that one of the old names for the gannet was Solan goose. There were gannets of all ages but the majority were adults. The few youngsters that I saw were all very young. Quite a few pairs close to hand on the clifftops were spending most of their time sky-pointing together reinforcing their courtship bonds. 

Gannets

Gannet
A fourth- or fifth-year bird, I think.

Gannet

Gannet

Guillemot

The auks were harder work. Not that they weren't abundant but they were mostly either loafing on the water or dashing madly between cliffs and the sea. The loafing birds looked like a thin peppering about at first glance but there were lots of rafts of auks, mostly guillemots, out there and some of the rafts had fifty or more birds in them. Guillemots and razorbills had the time for a bit of a rest and a preen, the puffins were on the  go all the time. They'd zoom in towards the cliffs with beaks full of sand eels then suddenly disappear from view. As far as getting any photos of any of them was concerned it was a matter of pointing the camera where an auk looked to be headed and hope for the best. To be fair to the camera, this is precisely not what it was designed for and my reaction times aren't what they were. The few photos of puffins I got were by accident as I tried to capture passing fulmars. For once the fulmars showed very well and the kittiwakes were shy of showing. Perhaps the presence of a flock of herring gulls loafing on the clifftop was making them keep close to their nests.

Fulmar

Fulmar

Fulmar

Fulmar

Fulmar

Kittiwake

Puffin

Puffin

Gannet, exit stage top

Gannet

Gannet

Gannet
A second- or third-year bird, I think

Gannet

Gannet
Another one I think is a fourth- or fifth-year bird

Gannet
A second-year bird, I think. I thought something was wrong with its eye but the eye's okay, the apparent bulging wound is juvenile feathers on the ear coverts.

Gannet

On the approach to the New Roll-up watchpoint the gannets were providing breathtaking photo opportunities, flying in and stalling in the wind before dropping down to the clifftops. Of course, having the opportunities and successfully taking them are quite different things, I've plenty of pictures of tails and wingtips as the wind shifted and a gannet dropped, rose or banked. It meant I had a lot of photos to review but there were a few nice ones in there.

Gannets

Gannets

Gannets

The kestrel had drifted over to hunt over the clifftops

Walking back I was glad to see some razorbills had joined the pigeons of the cliff sides.

Pigeons (left) and razorbills

Black-tailed skimmer

I had a wander over to the pool by the car park, hoping to see some tadpoles or froglets. No tadpoles or froglets but plenty of azure damselflies and a black-tailed skimmer. And a willow warbler serenading the visitors to the pool.

Willow warbler

Willow warbler

Yellowhammer

It was slightly cloudier as I walked back to Bempton Station but still very pleasant walking weather. A blackcap joined the yellowhammers, whitethroats and greenfinches singing by one of the farmsteads. I had twenty minutes to wait for the train back to Sheffield after a very good day's birdwatching. Had I stayed local I would probably have been poleaxed by the heat and pollen count, I certainly was by the time I had walked back home from Urmston.

Bempton Cliffs