Martin Mere

Moorhen chick

It's going to be a coo what a scorcher bank holiday weekend so I thought I'd best get a visit to Martin Mere in before it all kicks off. Most years we have a few weeks' gradation between Britain Shivers and Coo What A Scorcher but this year we're doing it over four days and I'm not convinced my system's quite caught up yet. It felt odd leaving all the coats at home, including the Summer raincoat. I had an atavistic yearning for a Packamac. It wasn't needed.

Some of the nests in the rookery by Burscough Bridge Station are either still active or active again. Most probably they are latecomers or pairs whose first attempt was predated and they're hoping second time lucky.

By Red Cat Lane 

The walk down Red Cat Lane to Martin Mere was oddly quiet but busy. The noise of rooks and jackdaws in the ploughed field just outside town gave way to the hints of woodpigeons, starlings and skylarks in the arable fields beyond. Robins, blackbirds chiffchaffs and goldfinches sang in the trees and hedges. Swallows and house martins twittered overhead, and all the more when a kestrel passed by. A yellow wagtail flew across the road from Curlew Lane and disappeared into the depths of a field of corn and there was a close pass-by by a male marsh harrier. 

A little further on, and to my utter astonishment, I had a nice suprise. A bird caught my eye as it flew into one of the horse chestnuts across the road from Brandeth Barn. It didn't look right for a sparrow and had too much back end for a chaffinch so I had a quick shufti with the binoculars. I can't remember how many years it is since I last saw a corn bunting along here, I'd given up on them. A surprisingly sleek-looking female brought the year list to 181.

Oystercatcher 

At Martin Mere I dived into the Discovery Hide for a bit of shade as much as for the birds. It's that time of year when mallards and shelducks conduct trains of ducklings past nesting black-headed gulls and non-breeding oystercatchers gather to celebrate their lack of responsibilities. There were a few lapwings and Canada geese about the far side of the mere, they were heavily outnumbered by greylags.

Black-headed gulls and chicks

Black-headed gulls and chicks

A walk down to the Mere View Hide included an encounter with a grey squirrel kitten that was out unsupervised and hadn't a clue. When I encountered it on the way back it was sunbathing after exhausting itself by running up a lady's trouser leg.

This grey squirrel kitten hadn't worked out it was supposed to be scared of people

The songscape along the way was light but persistent: if you weren't hearing song thrushes and/or robins you were hearing blackbirds, blackcaps and/or chiffchaffs, with background helpings of wrens, woodpigeons, a Cetti's warbler and a sedge warbler. A whitethroat added to the concert at the Mere View Hide and a reed warbler was seen but not heard, which is a distinct reversal of the norm.

From the Ron Barker Hide
Out in the distance a whooper swan sits on its nest.

I'd barely sat down at the Ron Barker Hide before a chap asked if I'd seen the whooper swan on its nest. I'm used to there being the odd one or two lingering over Summer because they couldn't join the migration because of injury or whatever and the past couple of years there's usually been a couple lurking around this end of Langley's Brook, the drain heading away from the hide. This year they've decided they may as well make the most of it while they're here.

Swallow

A few black-headed gulls were also nesting, bothering any passing lesser black-backs or herring gulls to keep them moving on. A few mallards, gadwalls and greylags drifted listlessly on the pools. Swallows twittered about the drain, some of them settling down for ten seconds of song before getting back to the business of flying about twittering. The long grass in the field at the side of the marsh was high enough for the calves to just be disembodied ears and tops of heads careering about in a giddy fashion. The cattle egrets with them and their parents were only visible when they took flight or sat on one or other's backs.

The afternoon was but young and the weather dead clear so I headed for the reedbed walk. I didn't think I had the legs to do the long walk round but I wanted to check out at least some of the hides and I was desperate to see some dragonflies. I lingered on the bridges over the brooks and drains like some lovelorn sailor in a bad movie and just got pitying looks from mallards for my pains. No dragons, no damsels.

The pool at the Rees Hide was busy though most of the birds were a fair way away from the hide. Black-headed gulls sat on nests with avocets on sentry duty chasing off lesser black-backs, coots, lapwings, swallows, butterflies, whatever caught their eye. I almost missed a Mediterranean gull sitting amidst the mêlée.

Tufted ducks 

The birds were closer and the whole scene a little calmer at the Gordon Taylor Hide, except when male black-headed gulls brought sticks back to shore up the nest when the family was expecting dinner. Pairs of tufted ducks, shovelers and teals quietly cruised about in and out of the reeds and between the nesting islands.

Black-headed gull

Black-headed gulls 

Black-headed gulls and chick

On the way out I glanced over the bridge and a female banded demoiselle landed on the reeds just underneath. Just the one damselfly for the day but one is infinitely better than nothing.

Banded demoiselle

It was lazy afternoon time at the Harrier Hide. Mallards, greylags, gadwalls and shovelers dozed and a great crested grebe slowly cruised around to no apparent purpose.

Creeping buttercup and flax

It was busy-quiet again on the way back. There was another fly-by by the marsh harrier though this time he was well away from the road. The starlings and swallows were starting to settle on telegraph wires ready for their teatime singsong, some were already warming up. All in all the day was like that, a deceptively calm day's birdwatching that somehow got 69 species on the tally.

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.

Martin Mere

Pink-footed geese
It's that time of year again.

It was a nice day so I got the train to Burscough Bridge and walked over to Martin Mere. And the trains behaved themselves all day.

By Red Cat Lane 

Walking down Red Cat Lane the woodpigeons, rooks and jackdaws were around but didn't really look to be settling on the fields though there seemed to be more going on over by Crabtree Lane. A carrion crow had been harassing a buzzard soaring over the station, half a dozen jackdaws were doing similar to another buzzard that was drifting over to Rufford.

Pink-footed geese

.The first of the day's many pink-footed geese flew over as I left town and a couple of hundred of them clamoured a couple of fields to the North. 

Pennines from Red Cat Lane 

It was a cool, almost cloudless, morning that definitely felt like Autumn, even without the background calls of rooks and geese and robins singing in hedgerows. The lack of any swallows or house martins was to be expected. So it was a nice surprise to see a couple of yellow wagtails — an adult and a juvenile — flying around the farm buildings on the corner of Curlew Lane.

Martin Mere 

Arriving at Martin Mere I sat myself down at the Discovery Hide. The mere was busy: crowds of mallards, greylags and lapwings clustered on every island. There weren't many black-headed gulls but what they lacked in numbers they made up in noise. All the small figures hustling about between ducks and geese were starlings. There were plenty of teal around once I got my eye in but I had no luck finding any shovelers or shelducks. There was a crowd of Canada geese over on the far bank and a few pochards were cruising about, the drakes almost out of eclipse plumage.

Way over, on the Plover Field, there were at least hundreds of pink-feet with more flying in. A female marsh harrier drifted over the fields beyond. One buzzard sat on a fencepost, another circled high overhead.

Lapwings 

A glossy ibis has been on this field a few days, showing well but distant. I reckoned if I was going to look for it I'd need to be over in the United Utilities Hide where you get a grandstand view of the field. 

I headed for the United Utilities Hide. First stop was a look over the mere from the screens, plenty more lapwings and mallards and a snipe preening on one of the islands.

Speckled woods, large whites and red admirals fluttered about in the sunshine, it was becoming a warm day. That might have been what prompted one of the chiffchaffs to start singing. Toddling down the path I was met by a stoat which looked at me, decided it wasn't keen and shot off into the undergrowth.

Chaffinch 

A quick nosy at the Janet Kear Hide gave me some nice views of chaffinches as they preened in the bushes. The feeders were fitfully busy with blue tits and great tits, neither of them seeming keen to break cover for long.

The view from the United Utilities Hide was odd. To the right, the field by the mere was deserted, not even a carrion crow or woodpigeon. To the left, on the Plover Field there was upwards of a thousand geese, most of them pink-feet. The Canada geese and greylags loafed over on the far side of the field. I scanned the field to see what else was about, mindful that other geese get carried along with the flocks of pink-feet and I'll need to get into practice for the end of year wild goose chases. The white object was a farmyard greylag.

The black objects a couple of fields away were carrion crows but there was something odd about the one sitting on a fencepost behind them. It would have been about the right size for a crow but was very upright. Then it stretched its neck out and could only have been the ibis. Even then it could have been an hallucination had it not decided to fly down into the field. The long, dropping neck and limply-hanging legs were definitely the ibis.

The reedbed walk 

A wander round the reedbeds was a mixed bag. Dragonflies — Southern hawkers, migrant hawkers and common darters — were everywhere. Geese flew over noisily in overlapping circular waves like the cutaways in a Busby Berkeley musical. The pool at the Rees Hide was bone dry and overgrown, no chance of any waders. And no birds on the ground at all, not even any finches or buntings on the ripening seedheads. Three or four fields away a flock of at least twenty cattle egrets accompanied the herd of grazing longhorn cattle.

At the Gordon Taylor Hide 

There was water on the pool at the Gordon Taylor Hide but no exposed mud. A group of teal lurked in a corner of the pool away from a heron intent on catching dragonflies with about a one in three times success rate, the loud clatter of its closing beak marking the times when it missed. A group of mallard did that thing where they cluster together and keep a close eye on the heron with a clear patch of water between them. (This is also quite a good way of finding where to look if you can hear a bittern close by in a reedbed.) A Cetti's warbler sang in the brambles by the heron and I couldn't find a single clue as to where it was, not so much as a bouncing twig even though it was shifting locations within the bramble patch.

Walking back the only swallow of the day shot across one of the fields. There were more Canada geese, lapwings and teal on the pool by the Harrier Hide and just the one dabchick bobbing up and down as it fed mid-water.

The Harrier Hide 

I decided to get the train back from New Lane. The path by the reserve fence was reassuringly muddy in patches, I'll be happy if it stays that way and doesn't become a Winter quagmire. Gatekeepers and speckled woods chased through the woodland edges and a swarm of common darters sunned themselves on the tops of the high fenceposts.

The walk down Marsh Moss Road would have been quiet but for distant pink-feet. Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about in the trees. Collared doves, robins and a goldfinch sang in the gardens by the station.

Marsh Moss Road 

The journey back was quiet and uneventful and the trains did what they were supposed to do. The black-headed gulls that weren't at Martin Mere carpeted the flooded fields of West Lancashire.

Mosses

Swallow, Barton Moss

The weather forecast at 4am had it that it was going to be a grey day, a quick check at half eight told me it was going to be heaving down all day. It was a bright, sunny morning and the forecast had been changeable like this all week. I decided I'd play safe and go for a walk on the Salford mosses rather than do the planned hillwalking.

The aim was to see if there were any passage migrants about. Late August is a good time for picking up on spotted flycatchers, redstarts and tree pipits, all of which I missed on Spring migration. Autumn migration's a more leisurely affair so there's a bit more of a chance of my striking lucky. The downside is that this time of the year they're quietly going about their business and there's a lot more leaf cover for them to hide in.

Barton Moss Road 

I'd not walked Barton Moss this year so I got the 67 bus from Irlam to Barton Moss Road and walked up to the moss. House martins were still feeding young in nests on the farmhouse while more of them hawked low over the horses in the field behind. The hedgerows were busy with robins and goldfinches and there was a steady traffic of squadrons of woodpigeons overhead. There was more about going unidentified, shadows of small birds disappearing into the depths of hawthorn bushes. A couple of great tits couldn't help themselves and betrayed their presence with their calls. Approaching the motorway I heard the first squeaking chiffchaffs of the afternoon. Large whites fluttered about in the undergrowth and a Southern hawker was patrolling the treetops.

Barton Moss 

Woodpigeons and magpies clattered about in the rough pasture on the left-hand side of the road. A light rain started to fall. A tree pipit saw me but I couldn't see where it was calling from. I had more luck in the field of potatoes next to the motorway as three yellow wagtails flew about before settling in the rough grass in the field margin opposite me.

The motorway bridge

I crossed the motorway and joined Twelve Yards Road, heading West for Chat Moss. The rain front was rolling in and a flock of a few dozen swallows divided its time between hawking low over fields of barley stubble and feeding high on the insects pushed forward by the front. A buzzard floated over the motorway, seen on its way by a kestrel which harassed it until it was well over this side and out of the kestrel's territory. Way over by the railway a flock of black-headed gulls followed a tractor as it turned over a field. A few drifted my way. The excitement of a possible fly-by Mediterranean gull was dashed by its turning out to be a Tesco's carrier bag.

Twelve Yards Road, the M60 on the left

A couple of hawthorn bushes by the motorway were busy with titmice and warblers. It was hard work picking out the runners and riders as they kept to cover and most of the movement in the leaves was caused by the wind and rain. There were speed restrictions on the motorway and the traffic noise drowned out any bird calls that might have helped. Blue tits and a chiffchaff bounced about the bindweed covering the higher branches, great tits and a juvenile whitethroat kept to the depths. I strongly suspect I missed a few somethings.

The long-tailed tits in the next stand of hawthorns and elderberries were a bit more obliging, striking poses on dead branches until the camera came out of the bag. I was putting the camera away when the swallows fell into a mad panic. I didn't spot the young sparrowhawk until its wing grazed my right shoulder as it batted through the hawthorns. Even after the sparrowhawk had gone a couple of young swallows carried on their alarm calls until they realised that nobody else was shouting so I couldn't have been much of a threat.

Twelve Yards Road 

The rain hit and the birdwatching got a lot quieter. The small birds in the hedgerows disappeared into deep cover. The hundreds of woodpigeons and scores of jackdaws carried on feeding in the fields. It looked like Astley and Boothstown were copping for thunder. I have to say, walking under a line of electricity pylons in the rain to the accompaniment of the hiss of rain on the wires and nearby thunder was a tad unnerving.

Barton Moss 

As I approached the junction with Cutnook Lane jays interrupted their gathering of acorns to make rude noises at me. Chiffchaffs squeaked as I walked up the path towards Croxden's Moss and chaffinches hooted with derision when I thought better of it given the weather conditions.

Cutnook Lane 

Just to rub it in, the sun came out as I walked down Cutnook Lane. A couple of mixed tit flocks made themselves  known in the birch scrub. At the bottom of the lane, by the motorway, a lot of turf had been cut from the far end one of the fields, the rectangle of black earth was covered in crows, rooks and lapwings. Pied wagtails flitted about the margins. One of them looked particularly pale, I put it down as a juvenile at first, they can look ghostly pale especially against a very dark background. It flew onto the grass and it was immediately apparent that it wasn't a juvenile and was actually an adult female white wagtail. It's only the past few years I've started spotting white wagtails this time of year. I'm not seeing many, perhaps one or two each Autumn. I don't know if they're becoming more frequent on Autumn passage or if I'm just getting better at noticing them.

I got the 100 back to the Trafford Centre. We passed three each of sunny spells and heavy showers along the way. Only when I was back home and updating my spreadsheet did I realise that the tree pipit made it 200 on the year list, the first time I've got there as early as August. I had it in my head I was struggling this Summer.

A Cheshire twitch

Woodchat shrike 

The back garden is littered with young blue tits and great tits, which is no bad thing. Early doors two dozen large gulls loafed on the school playing field, equal numbers of herring gulls and lesser black-backs.

I parked the day's plans when I noticed reports of a woodchat shrike just outside Runcorn. I've not gone on a twitch this Spring (I wasn't expecting to see the golden oriole at Woolston Eyes and didn't) and woodchat shrike is a lifer that's been on my radar a couple of years. And it's been a couple of years since I've seen a shrike of any kind. And it was an easy walk. So off I went.

Red Brow Lane 

I got the train to Runcorn East and walked down the road and crossed the Bridgewater Canal at Borrow's Bridge. The other side of the canal is rolling meadow land with the North Wales line to the North, the West Coast Main Line running North/South through it and another branch of the Bridgewater Canal separating the meadows from a few more fields, Daresbury Park and Daresbury. 

Bridgewater Canal, the Cheshire Ring Canal Walk 

It was a simple walk: I carried on down Red Brow Lane until I got to the canal, I climbed up to the canal towpath and walked North towards the people walking South with telescopes and binoculars and smiles on their faces. They confirmed the bird was still about, but fidgety, so I had a chance of seeing it.

Southern marsh orchids 

Mallards and coots had youngsters to keep track of on the canal. Overhead there was a steady traffic of large gulls passing by in twos and threes, mostly lesser black-backs with a few herring gulls. A flock of swifts were very busy overhead, some of them swooping down to knee height. The bank was lined with orchid, nearly all of them Southern marsh orchids though here and there there'd be a peppering of Northern marsh orchid just to keep things confusing (they're generally shorter with blunt-headed spikes of flowers). Just to confuse things the more I noticed a couple of spikes of early purple orchid that had gone over. There was no confusion about the reed buntings which were quite happy to sit and sing in the tops of bankside bushes.

Reed bunting 

I noticed a cluster of people further up at the curve of the canal looking at something on the other side. It was the reed buntings that told me what and where, a pair of them in a bush were taking very great exception to something that then shot out of the bush and perched on the lower part of an electricity pylon. A very black and white something with a bright chestnut cap. My first woodchat shrike. I watched it flitting about for half a minute until it disappeared into some bushes and I went to join the others.

Woodchat shrike 

Woodchat shrike 

Woodchat shrike
A fidgety bird.

The shrike played hide and seek for ten minutes until it flew back to where I'd first seen it. It then flew over and perched in the lower rungs of the electricity pylon, at times looking like it was sitting in a nest of barbed wire. It wasn't a big twitch, there were never more than a dozen people there and they were all friendly and wanted to make sure everybody got to see the bird. Easily the best way to see something new.

Reed bunting, still objecting to the shrike

Woodchat shrike 

Woodchat shrike flying off into the bushes
That sideways tilt of the tail helped it suddenly jink to the side as it shot off.

The West Coast Main Line 

I thought I'd have an explore while I was here and dropped down from the towpath into the meadow. Skylarks and whitethroats sang as I walked along the path through a wheat field to the West Coast Main Line.  I passed through the little tunnel under the line into a big meadow criss-crossed by paths around a lushly vegetated depression that one of the maps I was using told me used to be a large pond. A large proportion of the swifts here were swooping very low over the grass. Starlings, goldfinches and linnets fossicked about in the grass, the starlings going to and fro to feed hungry mouths in household eaves. A yellow wagtail was a pleasant surprise, I heard it before I saw it fly past.

The North Wales line 

The trees by the North Wales line were noisy with the songs of blackbirds, robins, blackcaps and wrens. A buzzard lumbered up and floated over the trees. There were yet more when I passed under the line and followed the path on the edge of Bog Wood. A great spotted woodpecker made itself known, the magpies, jackdaws and woodpigeons were downright obvious. As the path lead into open meadows whitethroats sang in hawthorns thick with rose bushes.

Ladybird larva

The birds were all very camera shy. The little critters were more obliging.

Garden chafer and harlequin ladybird 

I reached the canal and walked back to Borrow's Bridge. The mallard ducklings were half-grown, the baby coots were tiny and one pair of coots were still on the nest. Those blackbirds not sitting on rooftop singing posts were rummaging about the canal towpath while chiffchaffs, blackcaps and whitethroats sang in the hedgerow.

Bridgewater Canal 

It was only ten minutes' walk back to Runcorn East station and the train home. It had been a pleasant few hours, the walk was good and, of course, it's always nice to see a lifer.