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Juvenile blue tit

The adults blue tits have brought their youngsters to the bird feeders and now they've left them to it while they get ready for the post-breeding moult. They'll come in to the garden, quietly, once or twice a day but four of the youngsters have taken residence in the rose bushes. Conversely it's the adult great tits I'm seeing most often, the youngsters are feeding in the sycamore trees. I haven't knowingly seen any young goldfinches in the garden yet, or robins or blackbirds.

Goldfinch 

Juvenile blue tit

Juvenile house sparrow

The latest batch of baby spadgers has come off the production line, each of them supervised and fed by the cocks on their early outings.

Spadger feeding time

I mentioned the other day that I'd thought the chiffchaff and blackcap had given up so of course they've started singing again in the mornings. Last night's tea was postponed while I coaxed a young-looking chiffchaff out of the washhouse. At this rate I'll be needing to take the window out for the birds to come and go ad lib.

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.

Stalybridge

Juvenile grey wagtail, Walkerwood Reservoir 

I'm still in a filing-in-the-gaps mood so I headed off over to Stalybridge Country Park, getting the 343 from Stalybridge up to the bottom of Brushes Road. I looked at the weather and listened to the clicking of the joints and decided that whatever else I was doing with the day I wouldn't be walking over the tops to Tintwistle.

While I was waiting for the bus I spent a few minutes watching the sand martins visiting their drainpipe nests on the Tame before wandering over to the bus stop by the canal and its crowd of Canada geese, mallards, pigeons and pied wagtails.

Stalybridge Country Park 

The clouds looked ominous as I got off the bus and walked up Brushes Road to the entrance to Stalybridge Country Park. The jackdaws and spadgers along the were noisy and busy, every other rooftop had one or other fussing about.

Great tit

The woodland was lush and noisy with robins, blackbirds, blackcaps and chiffchaffs and there was the constant soft calling between families of blue tits and great tits and the objections of wrens to old men passing by. I knew I was getting close to the reservoir when I started hearing willow warblers singing in the trees.

Juvenile grey wagtail 

It started raining when I reached Walkerwood Reservoir. Luckily I had my cap on. A family of grey wagtails pottered about the water's edge and a very fidgety pied wagtail flitted between the banks on the corner. A couple of black-headed gulls floated aimlessly over the reservoir and a lone Canada goose dozed over on the far bank.

Walkerwood Reservoir 

Brushes Road 

I carried on up Brushes Road, I decided I'd go past Brushes Cottages to the bend where you get first sighting of Brushes Reservoir and call it quits. The songs of the birds in the trees on the reservoir banks on the right were joined by the goldfinches, greenfinches and dunnocks in the bushes on the hillside on the left. The woodpigeons that weren't disbudding bilberries and elderflowers were rummaging about on the grass with the sheep. A buzzard rose over the hilltop trees and slowly drifted back over the crest like a child's balloon in the breeze.

Bilberry 

Walking back down to Brushes Cottages 

Jays flitted silently across the road above the cottages. Small birds noticed and objected volubly. I had my look at Brushes Reservoir, just so I could say I'd got this far and made my way back down the road.

A young kestrel, all ginger and black bars, shot across the hillside and disappeared into the trees. Nothing reacted to it. I'd been seeing and hearing young robins all down the road. At the corner by the dam I had a look over Walkerwood Reservoir and a family of them came to have a look at me. I tried to get their photos but had to make do with the treecreeper rummaging about behind them.

Treecreeper 

Treecreeper

Rather than walking back through Stalybridge Country Park I walked down Besom Lane into Millbrook for the bus. The hedgerows were busy with greenfinches, house sparrows and robins.

Besom Lane 

I didn't have long to wait for the 343 bus. I spent the time watching the jackdaws cavorting in the chimney pots.

Stalybridge Country Park
The path is lined with butterburs.

Mosses

Red-legged partridge and carrion crow
(Me and the camera struggled to not have the partridge bleach out in the bright sun against black soil. While technically inept the result is not wholly unpleasing.)

The past few days the dawn chorus has been heralded by the blackbird kicking into song half an hour before dawn and the robin joining in five minutes later. My knowing this might be the reason why after telling myself I'd "just have half an hour" at seven o'clock I woke up at quarter to ten, which put the mockers on today's plans. I wouldn't mind losing the fight against becoming a nocturnal animal if I were truly A Companion To Owls but they've been thin on the ground lately.

The garden and the school playing field would be full of young jackdaws if they ever settled down on the ground for more than half a minute. Their parents have that harassed look you see in people given the job of supervising a coachload of sugar-filled kids at the fairground. The rooks, which have started to drift back from the riverside rookery, have left their youngsters behind now they're able to find their own way to the fields across the way. The adults still go back to the rookery to roost so it won't be long before the youngsters start following them over here.

It was a fine, cloudy day. I bobbed over to the Trafford Centre and played bus station bingo. The 100 to Warrington arrived first so I went for a few hours' walk over the Salford mosses. This time I was prepared with the pollen traps on the upper lip and nostrils and whichever direction I took the barley fields would be at the end of the walk, not the beginning.

Great tit

Crossing the motorway bridge on Cutnook Lane the blackbirds, blackcaps, robins and wrens struggled to be heard over the traffic and I struggled to hear and find the families of great tits and blue tits and the great spotted woodpecker moving through the trees. Walking up the lane as the traffic noise decreased there was a crescendo of bird song with song thrushes and chiffchaffs joining in as I passed Raspberry Lane. There were plenty of carrion crows, magpies and woodpigeons in the fields and swifts flying low overhead but a distinct lack of the usual swallows. Black-headed gulls and lesser black-backs passed overhead and a lone buzzard soared very high in the sky. Beside me as I walked common blue damselflies zipped about in the bracken.

Walking up to Croxden's 

I walked through the woodland up to Croxden's. Willow warblers joined in the songscape almost as soon as I crossed Twelve Yards Road. Mallards could be heard muttering on pools made invisible by the leaves on the birch scrub. If you told me there were gadwall in there, too, I shouldn't disbelieve you. Most of the small birds flitting about in the trees turned out to be robins or chiffchaffs bracing themselves for a song; occasionally they'd be great tits or blue tits and one was a singing coal tit. I hadn't put my cap on so far because it was fine, I dug it out of my pocket sharpish to keep the cleggs out my hair. On paper this part of Chat Moss looks ideal for spotted flycatchers but I only ever see them here in Autumn, and then not every Autumn. I could have done with a squadron of them along this stretch.

Croxden's Moss 

The wide expanse of Croxden's Moss looked deceptively empty save the rooks, crows and lesser black-backs flying overhead. Blackbirds, woodpigeons, wrens and willow warblers sang from the surrounding trees and more willow warblers held territories in small patches of birch and hawthorn scrub none bigger than a double bed. 

Large red damselfly 

I walked back and joined the path along the woodland fringe. The songscape continued, punctuated by the scolding calls of chaffinches telling me to be off and sharpish. Speckled woods and red admirals flitted about, the common blue damselflies were joined and outnumbered by large red damselflies and the brambles were humming with bumblebees. 

I'll bang on a bit more about the diversity of brambles, all from a stretch of path about fifty yards long.
These are like the large-flowered ones on the canal the other day. I don't know which of the big bumblebee species this one is.

The star-shaped brambles are the ones I see most often on these mosses.

There were quite a few of these smaller-flowered brambles, common carder bumble bee for scale.

These tiny-flowered pink brambles were small plants growing in the thicker undergrowth.

I've been embarrassed by my inability to identify bumblebees so I took the opportunity to make a bit of an effort. Especially as one of the bramble patches looked like one of those illustrations in books showing an unlikely assortment of species in one place. The tree bumblebees had been my companions since Twelve Yards Road, they were now joined by big white- and buff-tailed bumblebees, smaller garden and — possibly — heath bumblebees, a few cuckoo bees and a lot of little ginger carder bees. I need to make the effort more often. The grass moths I left unidentified, I know when I'm beaten.

I think the bee on the left is a Southern cuckoo bumblebee, the little ginger one is a common carder bumblebee.

I think this is Barbut's cuckoo bumblebee 

Lapwings and oystercatchers loafed and called from the pools on the open moss though I only saw one of each, the rest being obscured by birch scrub. The moorhens were heard not seen. It occurred to me that if that green-winged teal were still about it would be even more of a beggar to find.

As the landscape opened up whitethroats sang and churred from the bushes and skylarks sang over the fields. Big black patches in the nettles suggested that we'd be okay for peacock butterflies later this Summer. A flock of swifts drifted overhead and lingered over the barley fields as I joined Twelve Yards Road and headed for Four Lanes End.

Peacock butterfly caterpillars

I'd seen the usual kestrel hovering over the rough pasture as I approached Four Lanes End but there was no sign of it when I got there, which I hope means it has hungry mouths to feed somewhere. A family of long-tailed tits silently flitted through the hawthorns and willows, whitethroats churred at regular intervals as I passed. I had to look twice at a raptor as it passed overhead, it was an unusually dark buzzard I've not seen here before and with the light behind it it looked like an all-dark bird.

Twelve Yards Road 

Robins, chiffchaffs, willow warblers and wrens sang in the trees at the entrance to Little Woolden Moss nature reserve. I don't know why the Lancashire Wildlife Trust bothers with the "Ground-nesting birds: keep your dogs on a lead" and "For everybody's safety, cyclists please dismount" signs. Perhaps they need some "Pay attention to these signs or the boggarts will get you" signs.

Little Woolden Moss 

It was a quiet sort of afternoon on the pools. A few carrion crows fossicked about to the consternation of the lapwings with chicks. A pair of oystercatchers had an inconspicuous nest. Mallards dabbled about apparently without ducklings. A few black-headed gulls fussed about without lingering long. The songscape was provided by willow warblers, reed buntings and meadow pipits though there weren't many of them singing, most were busily flitting about with insects in their beaks. Again, there was a distinct lack of hirundines. At first there was also a lack of swifts, too, but the flock I'd seen earlier floated low over the peat Moss then moved to the barley fields to the North.

I'd been hoping to see a hobby but it didn't look like it was my day for it. A few broad-bodied chasers shot about the pools and a couple of black-tailed skimmers sunned themselves on the path but there didn't seem to be enough in the way of dragonflies to tempt a hobby. I followed the swifts and walked round to the barley fields in the hopes of seeing a yellow wagtail or two. As I approached the turn into the fields I noticed a falcon flying in from the sun. At first I assumed it was a kestrel but as it got closer it veered slightly and I could safely use my bins on it. It was a hobby. It descended slightly then flew back into the sun, it had seen the swifts and headed that way. It made a desultory pass through the flock which dispersed and moved back over the pools without a hint of panic.

Pushing my luck quite a lot with the hayfever 

I had no luck with yellow wagtails but the constant distraction of reed buntings, linnets, meadow pipits and skylarks coming and going out of the barley led me to notice a hare hiding in there. Or the tips of its ears anyway.

Spot the hare

The ploughed field by the polytunnels had a bumper bundle of lapwings, carrion crows, pied wagtails and a red-legged partridge. A couple of swallows passed by, much to my relief, and collared doves sang by the farmhouse.

Red-legged partridge 

By Moss Road 

I walked down Moss Road into Glazebury. More robins, blackbirds and wrens sang in the roadside trees and families of titmice shuffled through the leaves. A yellowhammer sang in the trees near the wind turbine. I bumped into another birdwatcher and we exchanged pleasantries. He'd just managed to get some good photos of a goosander and her ducklings floating down the River Glaze. I wished him luck and hoped the hobby would play nice for him. When I got to the river the goosanders had moved on, three half-sized mallard ducklings were floating downstream with their parents. Downstream of the bridge a juvenile heron was lurking in the shadows by the bank on a hunting trip.

It was a short walk to the bus stop and just ten minutes to wait for the 28 to Leigh and a short wait for the 126 back to the Trafford Centre. The weather had behaved and so had the pollen count and the hobby had kept the year list ticking over.

Did you find it?