American Idle

I had it all planned. A short drive to Moore Nature Reserve for my first Laughing Gull, then on to Martin Mere for the drake American Wigeon, before the piece de resistance: a Temminck's Stint at Marshside. What could go wrong?

Well, quite a lot as it happens. Before I had finished my breakfast the first-summer Laughing Gull had been re-identified as a second-summer Black-headed Gull. D’Oh!

Still, the wildfowl and wader (good name for a pub?) were still enough to tempt me to Lancashire. Martin Mere was rammed when I arrived, although most people were busy walking around the ‘Zoo.’

Enquiries as to its whereabouts led me to the Ron Barker hide. Gauche is not generally a trait of anything American, so I was surprised to find the bird a considerable distance from the hide and skulking in the vegetation. With the added handicap of heat haze, any views of the bird were generally unsatisfactory. In fact, the shimmering air made anything viewed through the ‘scope look like a French Impressionist painting!

Other goodies at Martin Mere included a similarly shy, drake Garganey and three Avocet chicks – a paltry return considering the number of birds that had nested.

By the time I had arrived at Marshside – a little over an hour later – a stiff easterly wind had developed and the visibility was much improved. When I arrived at Nel’s hide it was completely empty – surely not a good sign if a Temminck’s Stint was present.

As I was busy working my way through the waders a few more people arrived. Smaller waders included a handful of Dunlin and a single Ringed Plover aside the more statuesque Avocets and Black-tailed Godwit. Another glorious drake Garganey was the pick of the other birds, but still no Stint.

I conceded defeat and asked the chap next to me if he had any news.

“Oh, it turned out to be a Dunlin.” D’OH!!

Not a good day for Birdguides.

Until later.

I Don't Know Why I Did That, I Just Did.

No need for any vitamin D supplements today, the sun has got his hat on he's coming out to play.

I’m back at Cemlyn Lagoon tern colony with a friend, Rob, on one of his regular sojourns back up north.

The main island is busy with nesting Sandwich, Common and Arctic Terns and in the middle of the mêlée, melange, or call it what you will – after all, that is your right – is a first summer Mediterranean Gull and a handful of Dunlin.

The birds appear to be bringing back plenty of fish still, so fingers crossed for a successful breeding season - Peregrines, bruising Gulls and raiding Corvids notwithstanding.

Apparently, two Roseate Terns were present yesterday (28th), so I decide to have a quick scan through the birds. Heat haze aside, this is a tricky business as the terns are constantly ‘dreading’, the seemingly pointless and periodical taking to the air of the entire colony for no reason whatsoever! Why?

After an agreeable lunch at the sun-drenched Holyhead harbour we head for South Stack. The cliffs are covered in fog drifting in from the Irish Sea – Anglesey’s capricious weather strikes again!

The ledges are not visible, but some passing Chough provide temporary entertainment. Our patience is eventually rewarded when the mist begins to lift and the densely auk-packed ledges are again viewable. If anything, there appear to be even more Guillemot than two weeks ago with the Razorbills having been pushed even further to the periphery of the colony.

Until later.

Hammer Time

Listening to yet another depressing story on Radio 4 about the decline in populations of breeding Cuckoos, Yellow Wagtails and Lapwings, it was with some trepidation that I set off for a walk around what must be one of North Wales' premier Cuckoo areas - square SJ1664 to the west of Cilcain village.

Eskimos may well have more words for snow than you could shake a seal club at, but we British excel in our vocabulary in describing days that are overcast and hot: muggy, humid, sticky and close to name but a few. Today was one such day.

The first bird to register on the radar this morning was a glorious Yellowhammer singing from the top of a blossoming hawthorn bush. Another male was also singing its wheezing song from a fencepost a little further up the track.

A Redstart was in full song mode too. However, despite being able to pinpoint precisely the tree it was singing from, the bird remained invisible. It is only something I have noticed this year, but Redstarts seem to favour dead, dying or leafless trees to perch on. Luckily another male was busy scratching - in full view this time - from another bare branch a few hundred yards along the path. I always relish the chance to get close to male Redstarts - they must be one of our most attractive passerines.

Dropping down the valley to meet Nant Gain brings you into classic Cuckoo territory: scrubby moorland with plenty of small, scattered trees and bushes. I do not go home empty handed -nearing a man-made fishery, I hear a loud CUCK-OO, CUCK-OO. I scan the crown of every tree, but despite the bird's close proximity my search is in vain...

It then proceeds to taunt me further, by repeating its call again and again as I walk further along the bridleway. It is audible until the outskirts of Cilcain village, where Yellowhammers 3&4 are much more obliging.

Until later.

Oh So Quiet

I spent an hour at Inner Marsh Farm this morning. Ever heard the one about dogs looking like their owners? Well I would like to develop this theory a little - to birders looking like birds. The chap sitting next to me this morning had a pair of fierce and piercing eyes fit to make any self respecting Goshawk – and serial killer for that matter – green with envy.

Very few birds on the pools this morning, so I spent the majority of my time watching two Lesser-blacked Back Gulls and a brace of Carrion Crows arguing over a fetid Mallard carcass. The summer funk is very nearly upon us now, although technically the southerly migration will commence next month with a trickle of returning waders.

A pair of Oystercatchers has nested on the small island on number 2 pool; let’s hope that they are successful, especially after the failure of the Avocets. Given the long list of potential predators on the manor, I would not hold out too much hope.

I decided to re-locate to Connah’s Quay for the high tide. Oakenholt Marsh was doing good business with around 400 roosting Shelduck. On the Ash Pool both Mute Swans and Canada Geese were with newly hatched young.

It may be my fertile imagination, but it appeared that a few adjustments had been made to the marsh as the tide seemed to envelop certain areas of it much earlier on in the tide cycle, leading to the flooding of more sections.

Curlew had built up in numbers since my last visit – probably failed breeders. Oystercatchers had also bolstered their ranks to around 200 birds. Ridiculous name, Oystercatcher, after all, how many times have you seen them eating oysters? I propose Cocklecracker or Musslebreaker, although I am also fond of an old name: The Sea Pie.

Until later.

West By South-West

Always partial to some seawatching, the combination of a high tide and a stiff north-westerly wind had me in the automobile and heading for a noon appointment with the sand dunes at the Point of Ayr.

Upon arrival at Talacre my spirits were soon sapped. I had neglected to remember that it was half term week and the car park was already rammed with dog walkers and the great unwashed. A further metaphorical kick to the teeth was received when I noticed the direction of the flag; not entirely agreeing with this morning's BBC weather graphic, it was shimmering west at best.

Faced with this double whammy, I enacted Plan B and headed to the Little Orme for what would be my inaugural visit. Initial impressions were good, a short walk from the road and I was perched on a section of elevated limestone overlooking the Irish Sea.

If anything the wind had acquired a south-westerly lilt now - hardly favourable conditions. Nevertheless, I was soon on to two Fulmars - one of which flew about six feet away from me! Kittiwake and Guillemot were both present in good numbers as were Cormorants, keeping themselves busy by commuting to and fro across the sea in small groups.

Four Manx Shearwaters were the next birds of note to pass through, banking nonchalantly into the head wind. Four seemed to be the magic number today as Gannets and Sandwich Terns appeared in the same digit. Two Shag were nice additions to my year list (now 177) and it occurred to me at this point that I had not seen any at Anglesey the previous week!?

Despite my many misgivings about RSPB Conwy, I decided it would be churlish not to pay it a visit given I was so close. Half an hour in the Benarth Hide revealed little of interest apart from a pair of Black Swans. Is it just me, or do these slimmer, ebony versions of the Mute Swan seem even more snooty and uppity? Time to get the boys from the Environment Agency in?

Until later.

I-Spy A Spot-Fly

Bank Holiday weekend, the sun is shining, time to get far from the madding crowd!

Gwytherin (SH8761) is a picturesque small hamlet at the north end of the Denbigh Moors, replete with a quaint old-fashioned telephone box and a village pub.

A sharp climb through some woodland soon takes me out of the village and in to open countryside, a Nuthatch collecting food for its young the only bird of note. As I stop to catch my breath, a female Wheatear comes to investigate the intruder.

Lungs fully recovered I head across an area of moor called Ffrithuchaf. It is covered in moss and extremely damp underfoot – ideal breeding habitat for wading birds. It’s great to see such a large section of farmland that has not been drained and a handful of Curlew have taken full advantage – I see up to seven birds before meeting the road to Pentrefoelas.

I quickly turn off the road and head down a small valley following a farm track under the permitted access scheme. Four Lapwings pass over, heading in the direction of the massive wind turbines to the west.

The path meets a stream surrounded by gorse and a scattering of trees and bushes. A Tree Pipit – despite it being the middle of the day – is in full song, succeeds in drowning-out a nearby Blackbird.

Scrutinising the treetops brings little at first apart from a few Willow Warblers. I then locate another small passerine skulking in the canopy, but I cannot identify it as I am looking straight into the sun. I move to the other side of the tree and re-locate the bird – a Spotted Flycatcher, my first of the year!

My second steep ascent of the day is up to Pen Bryh y Clochydd on the opposite side of the valley. Here the land is very heavily grazed and consequently poor for birds – two Ravens and another female Wheatear being the pick.

Nearing the end of the walk at Bryn-y-clochydd there are more trees in evidence. I can just about make out the faint song of a Redstart and then another one – much closer this time – bursts into song too from the very top of an oak tree. An excellent day!

Until later.

Holt, Who Goes There?

I've had my eye on a square near the River Dee at Farndon and Holt: SJ4055. Recent reports of Whinchat and Spotted Flycatcher from Townfield Lane have moistened the taste buds somewhat, so after being discharged from lawn mowing duties I set off to investigate.

After struggling to find a parking space I opt to reverse into a spot at the entrance to a farm gate, risking the wrath of the local agrarian despot.

The square is largely fields planted with crops, although a couple are grazed by cattle and there is also a large paddock full of horses.

I begin by heading west along Townfield Lane, an unadopted metalled track flanked by excellent mature hedgerows. There is plenty of Chaffinch singing, the odd Chiffchaff, but little else.

Reaching the River Dee I enter a plantation area. Generally poor for birds I concentrate instead on the willows overhanging the water, but the wished for Kingfisher is nowhere to be seen. The opposite side of the bank is lined with mobile homes, the majority sporting the predictable over-ornamented gardens.

Still in the plantation area, I veer east along another footpath called Knowl Lane. The trees become a little more varied here and there are several Orange-tipped Butterflies flitting in the spring sunshine. Emerging from the coppice, the track squeezes in between two hawthorn hedges that cut through more arable land. Perfect territory for a Yellowhammer, but none are seen or heard.

The next stretch - heading south - is a walk of 2 kilometres through more crops and copses. I dare to dream of seeing a Turtle Dove - the habitat is ideal, surely they must have bred here in the past?

I am soon back at my car and thankfully there is no irate farmer waiting to berate me for blocking the entrance to his field. As I am about to turn the ignition key, two birds drop down atop of the hedge in front of me. Two Tree Sparrows - excellent! These are the first birds I have seen near Chester and the first individuals I have encountered not on a nature reserve.

Still, a fairly poor return really, but definitely merits another visit.

Until later.

A Force Of Nature

Praise the Lord, for the A55. As a child trips to Anglesey used to involve an interminable crawl along the North Wales coastal road, broken by occasional forays into second gear. How times have changed. Nowadays, in a little over an hour you are on Mon tarmac.

I've come to Anglesey on my annual pilgrimage to see the breeding terns at Cemlyn Bay lagoon and the seabird colony at South Stack.

I begin at Cemlyn. I am welcomed at the car park by a laggard in the shape of a female Greenland Wheatear. Also bringing up the rear are 3 Whimbrel flying noisily overhead. My first glimpse of the islands behind the shingle beach is encouraging - there is plenty of activity both on the islands and out to sea. There are some waders on the beach too; a small flock of Dunlin, a single Turnstone and at least twenty Ringed Plover, although given their near invisibility against a background of small stones it is impossible to tell how many for certain.

I set up my scope near the islands and begin to scan through the birds. Sandwich Terns are most numerous and making the most noise too. There are also good numbers of both Common and Arctic Terns - about equal numbers of each. I still struggle to separate these two species in flight, but when roosting, the darker, shorter and more down curved bill of the Arctic Tern is very distinctive, not to mention their stumpy legs.

Fighting the prevailing wind, many birds are bouncing back from fishing trips. Virtually all are returning with prey; sand eels mostly, with one Sandwich Tern managing to carry four fish in the fashion of a Puffin! Skating the shore is another ocean wanderer - the Fulmar. As I go to leave, the warden turns up complete with butterfly net! He confirms that there are good numbers of Terns this year: up to 800 Sandwich Terns and circa 400 Commic Terns. Fantastic, but no blushing Roseates yet!

In high spirits I set off to South Stack. The car park is jam-packed, pray the cliffs are too! I am not disappointed. Thousands of Guillemots are thronging the ledges; the rock face is dripping with birds. Razorbill too, although much fewer in number. Kittiwakes and Fulmars also, all demonstrating their absolute mastery of the art of flight - the Fulmars in particular: one minute hanging as if suspended by wires, the next minutes changing altitude and direction with minimum effort and maximum control - I could watch these birds for hours. No slouches as aviators either, a pair of Chough whizz by with a Raven in hot pursuit.

To try and find the star attraction at South Stack requires a little more effort. Halfway down the steep steps to the lighthouse is a good area to find this bird: the Puffin. One of Allah's most endearing creations and fortunately five birds are present today.

A cracking day. No rareties, just nature in all its abundance and vigour.

Until later.

Garth inVader

Okay, enough pontificating about Egrets and Vice Presidents - time for some birding.

Garth Woods near the village of Ffynnongroyw (a name to make the terminally unfunny Jonathan Ross quake with fear) is an excellent area of ramshackle woodland and farmland, hitherto unknown to me until early spring this year, when I paid my inaugural visit - a trip that produced Marsh Tit and Wood Warbler.

Heeding the advice of Oracle Kirkwood I set off cloaked in a cocoon of cagoule, as showers - heavy ones at that - were forecast.

The circular walk - that is well signposted - is approximately 3 miles long, beginning with a fairly steep ascent into the coed. As I enter the wood most of the commoner woodland species can be heard going about their business. Blackbirds are particularly abundant; it is easy to forget that dense woodland is their true domain - the rich sonorous song is ideally suited to carrying through thick vegetation.

The route is rather diamond shaped and the top section passes through arable fields and grazing pastures. Two Yellowhammers are singing from opposite ends of a thick, unkempt hedge that divides a lush area of grass from a section of bare soil.

Above, two Buzzards are 'pyaring' imploringly to one another as they drift higher on a developing thermal. A rather tatty looking Raven charges across the sky and starts to mob the raptors. In turn, they chase the corvid off, but success is only achieved when they opt to work in tandem.

The final section of the walk returns to wooded area that hides a small brook running through its midst. From an area of shrubbery a series of loud 'cheks' alerts me to a Garden Warbler, but brief glimpses of its silhouette are all I am granted.

Moving into an area of mature oak trees I hear a male Pied Flycatcher. Fantastic! Locating the bird is difficult, although I do find a male Siskin whilst searching for it in the canopy. Thankfully, a nice tasty morsel flies too close to the Flycatcher and it darts out from its hiding place to pluck the insect from the air. It doesn't return to its original perch, but chooses instead to sit in full view on dead branch whilst it consumes the snack.

Coed Garth does it again!

Until later.

You say Quail, I Say Quayle.

A thirty minute downpour this morning over Burton Marsh was enough to sap the spirits of all the local birdlife save a few determined, singing Sedge Warblers. A juvenile Starling, feathers absolutely sodden, didn't even attempt to fly into cover as I approached it along the path, merely staring at me in resignation.

There were very few birds on the marsh this morning. It is approaching that time of year, when it passes into recess in order to ready itself for a new intake of residents in September.

It is the fag-end of passerine migration too. Only later arrivees such as Turtle Dove, Nightjar, Spotted Flycatcher and Quail are coming in any numbers now - all species under serious threat.

The reason for the decline in numbers of these birds is probably multiple, but heavy hunting of Turtle Dove and Quail in the Mediterranean cannot help. It is probably getting to the stage now when the number of shotguns is going to exceed the number of birds! I always wonder if they are in competition with fishermen to see which body can bring a species to extinction first.

Unlike many birders I do not completely disagree with hunting provided it is done sustainably and with minimum disruption. I know this is heresy to many, but I eat meat - including duck - and I'd much rather they had lived in the wild for a few years as opposed to a cage for three months.

It's always funny how things can sometimes run full circle. In using the picture of Dan Quayle - he of the 'potatoe, not potato infamy' - I thought of former US vice-President Dick Cheney. His most famous blunder was to accidentially pile lead in to a fellow hunter: whilst out shooting Quail in Texas.

Well, I never.

Until later.

The One That Got Away?

I'm not averse to the odd spell of rain or occasional strong winds, but am I the only one thinking May's weather is now a little tedious?

It was during one of the multitude of May showers on Saturday evening when a very interesting Egret dropped in to Inner Marsh Farm. The Heron stayed for a mere two minutes, but that was enough time to stimulate considerable interest in me and two other observers as to its identification.

The bird was clearly not a Little Egret - too many plumage differences including the colouration of the legs. It was also noticeably bigger than a Little Egret although not considerably so. Naturally, thoughts then turned to a Great White Egret but again there were too many discrepancies: it didn't seem to be quite big enough and crucially the line that passes beneath the eye did not proceed past it - as it should do in a GW Egret. (This is one of the first things I look at on a large Egret as it is the most reliable method of separating GW Egret and Intermediate Egret).

I was a little stumped. Fortunately, the couple of minutes the Egret was present enabled me and my co-observers to note down the salient features: paleish to yellow tibias, dark to black tarsus', a grey to darkish bill and a definite 'kink' in the neck. In terms of size it appeared to be somewhat midway between a Little Egret and Great White Egret. When the bird took to flight the wings appeared to be broader than a Little Egret and the wingbeat more relaxed. Finally, there also seemed to be a red ring on one leg, possibly both.

Returning home in the evening I scoured the internet. A pale phase Western Reef Egret or an Intetmediate Egret bore the closest resemblance but neither was compelling. On Sunday I met up again with one of my fellow birders from the previous day. He had been looking through a book of Egrets with the warden and thought that the mystery bird looked very similar to a juvenile Little Blue Heron.

I had not seriously considered this bird as I assumed they were both too small and too blue! However, the Little Blue Heron has a pale phase as a juvenile and - at its largest - can reach
72cm in height, a marginal but significant difference in size from a Little Egret.

I revisited the internet and trawled around for pictures of this bird in its juvenile stage. The results were promising, however, having never been recorded in the UK before it would obviously be extremely unlikely!

Just to add to the confusion, another of the wardens told me that he was pretty certain that he had seen a GW Egret flying out of the reserve on Sunday morning!

Unless the bird is re-seen and photographed it looks like being cast into the realms of lore...

Until later.

Wag Flava

A report of a Corncrake at Frodsham Marsh on Saturday morning encouraged me to return for another walk around number 6 tank.

As I set off my mood was one of ludicrous optimism rather than hope or expectation. With similar positivity the boys, sorry grown men, of the local model airplane club were busy preparing a runway by cutting a strip through the meadow with a sit-on lawnmower, but judging by the straining windsock, the aircraft were in for a morning of severe turbulence.

A couple of hundred yards further on from the airport I encountered a pair of Yellow Wagtails foraging on the metalled track. Whether because they were busy concentrating on feeding or simply didn't care for my presence, the birds afforded very close views. Frodsham seems to be a stronghold in Cheshire for this species and I located three more individuals - all single males, or 'Young Bucks' as they would be called in India - along the south side of the tank.

The north side of the tank, near where the Corncrake was seen, was quiet although there were a couple of Little Ringed Plovers patrolling the edge of water. No sign of the Little Stints either, and of course, the Corncrake if it was there, kept hidden from view and refused to call - I'll see one eventually!

In other news, me and another two birders saw a very interesting Egret species at Inner Marsh Farm yesterday (16th) evening. As the bird flew in - directly in front of the hide - I nearly called Great White Egret, but it didn't seem to be large enough, although it was certainly bigger than a Little Egret. Fortuntely it landed in the corner of number 2 pool where it stayed for a couple of minutes - just long enough to get the salient features. The legs were yellowish around the tibias and darker around the tarsus'; the bill was greyish to dark and relatively long; the neck was fairly long too with a distinct kink and there appeared to be a red ring on the right leg. When the bird flew off, the wings were definitely wider and longer than a Little Egret and the wingbeats slower - an intriguing sighting?

Having seen thousands of Egrets in India, the bird it most resembled was a pale phase Western Reef Egret or an Intermediate Egret but I don't think it was either as barring an escapee this would obviously be next to impossible. Let's hope that it hangs around and that the next observer has a camera!

Until later.

Futureshock

Gowy Meadows is an area of marshland opposite the massive Stanlow Oil Refinery complex. Although Shell UK owns the site, it is managed by the Cheshire Wildlife Trust.

Despite holding plenty of promise the reserve is generally disappointing for birds, although recent spring migration has produced good falls of Wheatear and the odd Whinchat.

Frequently encountered residents include Kestrel, Buzzard, Sparrowhawk, Reed Bunting and at least two pairs of Stonechat. Winter is slightly more productive with Snipe, Jack Snipe and Water Rail joining the permanent population.

Encouraged by the potential of the area, I have been visiting on a regular basis for over two years but my patience is starting to run out. Reading the CWT action plan on their website perhaps indicates why there has been no real improvement: four out of the eight ‘planned works’ are related to visitor welfare with two of those predictably pertaining to ‘elf and safety – how depressing!

Enabling the fields to flood more often – especially during winter – would be a start, but the banks of the Gowges are presently far too high for this to be a regular occurrence. This would surely attract more wildfowl and augment the rather modest numbers of Teal and Mallard. On the odd time the waters have broken through the defences, the flow has been over a farmer’s field on the opposite side of the river.

When this happens the flood waters are used by bathing Gulls as they commute between the Mersey and the nearby Gowges Landfill site. Thousands of Gulls use the tip but close scrutiny of the scavengers is difficult as there is no suitable observation point and few gulls tend to roost nearby, preferring to return to the estuary.

This morning is a rather typical visit. One Buzzard perched on a fencepost watching a herd of Welsh Long-horned Cattle munching away is the only bird of note. I recognise the individual as an old hand, its extremely pale plumage making it easily identifiable. It looks bored.

The Meadow Pipits are in good voice though – walking to the metal bridge I pass three

singing males and there are plenty of ‘tsrpping’ Reed Buntings. In the distance thousands of Gulls are circling over the dump. I find this a rather apocalyptic sight and a signal of what the future may hold if we are not more intelligent in our relationship with the environment: a world of Corvids, Gulls and Feral Pigeons.

Gowy Meadows CWT: http://www.cheshirewildlifetrust.co.uk/res_gowymeadows.htm

Until later.

Borin By Name, Boring By Nature

I have parked at the gloriously named Sodom Covert near the village of Bodfari in Denbighshire (SJ0971). Deluge over, I have decided to walk a section of the Clwydian Range along the Offa's Dyke Path and the Clwydian Way.

The first section of the track heading towards Graig Tremeirchion involves a hack through some rather overgrown gorse before emerging out onto a fresh pasture bursting with buttercups. Very little bird wise apart from a pair of Ravens kronking heartily from a nearby pylon.

Reaching Graig Tremeirchion the habitat improves as the path moves through some old deciduous woodland. I find a nice open spot and listen. Song Thrush, Robin, Blackbird and Great Tit, but nothing else, so I decide to find another listening post. Before moving off, I bend down to tie my bootlaces and as I do so, I notice a beautiful small bluish flower that my cumbersome size twelve stompers had nearly trampled on. Flowers are not my strongest suit, but I think it is probably a Monk's-hood.

The remainder of the trial to the halfway point at Moel Maenefa is rather uneventful, although the local Denbighshire farmers seem to have taken a leaf out of their Cheshire brethren's book and elected to erect numerous electric wires across public footpaths. Very considerate.

As I reach Moel Maenefa and the Offa's Dyke Path the sun begins to burn through the fug. A nearby Garden Warbler interprets this as nature's invocation to sing and perched atop of a gorse bush begins to fill the coconut-scented air with its benedictions.

If it wasn't for its lovely song, the Garden Warbler would probably steal the crown of Britain's dullest bird from the Stock Dove. With its drab appearance and unobtrusive nature the scientific name Sylvia Borin is very appropriate.

Proceeding to Cefn Du, another of the shaven-headed hills in this area, the route takes me along a lane flanked by some mature hedgerows. Whitethroats are in abundance here and I can also hear the faint song of a Yellowhammer; Redstart too, irregularly sounding its scratchy trill as it moves through an old oak tree.

I am soon back at Sodom. Still no fire and brimstone, just something else of biblical proportions falling down from the heavens: rain.

Until later.

Number 6

It is now difficult to imagine what a wonderful and wild area Frodsham Marshes would have been before it was drained and ‘developed’. At the confluence of the rivers Mersey and Weaver there must have once stood a huge expanse of sandbanks, mudflats and saltmarsh. One can only dream of the wildlife that must have abounded.

The area is now owned by the rather clandestine Peel Group, whom utilise the land to deposit dredgings from the nearby Manchester Ship Canal. The remainder of the site is a collage of meadows, paddocks and scrub. Surrounded by heavy industry the marsh is hard to love ascetically and the potholed metalled roads make driving around the area unpleasant.

Given a little sympathetic management, many significant improvements for the benefit of wildlife could be realised; professional stewardship by a conservation body could result in a world class nature reserve on my doorstep. I can dream!

A wide range of people use the marshes from model airplane enthusiasts and joggers to rather shady looking blokes in quasi-military uniforms and aviator sunglasses.

Despite its drawbacks, I have seen many good birds here: Marsh Harrier, Black-necked Grebe, Short-eared Owl and my first ever Avocets in March 2006. Little Stint are also regular and the reason why I am standing here on a grey, still morning, overlooking the prosaically named Number 6 Tank.

These birds are not called Calidris Minuta for nothing – they are absolutely tiny. Slowing moving along the water’s edge with my telescope reveals a stunning male Ruff coming into breeding plumage but no Little Stints – again. Spreading my search to the drier sections I notice a few Lapwings on nests but little else.

The calm is then shattered by the repeated, hysterical, loud squeaky-toy-like call of an Oystercatcher. I quickly picked it up darting about three feet above the ground being pursued by a Peregrine; a very brown bird that must have been a juvenile. The chase was only half-hearted though and the bird soon gave up leaving the Sea Pie to live another day. The falcon then cruised over to a fencepost where it remained perched in that rather tense fashion, similar to that of a 100 metre runner waiting for the gun.

Also on the tank was an Avocet, although it was far away on the opposite edge – a refugee perhaps from Inner Marsh Farm? A calling – but not seen – Cuckoo was also in good voice, competing with a plethora of warblers. Not a bad morning!

Until later.

Mary Celeste

A strange quiet hung over Inner Marsh Farm this morning: something was amiss. Not being the most perceptive of individuals, I struggled to put my finger on it. Then it dawned on me, which is actually an achievement of sorts given that it usually takes me until dusk.

No nesting Black-headed Gulls, not one, the entire colony had vanished. A couple of weeks previous there must have been in excess of two hundred pairs on the various islands producing a right old cacophony. The Avocets had disappeared too - from a peak of just over twenty birds to zero. They must have also given up attempting to breed.

The only birds remaining that looked like they may be trying to reproduce were two Oystercatchers that had moved to one of the now deserted islands. They were busy building a nest by scavenging the remains of the ones that had been abandoned.

What could have happened? The mystery was partially solved when later I bumped in to the warden. Late one evening he had been down to the hide armed with a flashlight. Much to his surprise he had seen a badger swimming across the one of the islands!

However, this does not explain the mysterious disappearance of three Avocet eggs several weeks previously. This occurred during the night too, when the nest was completely emptied of its contents, whereas nearby Gull nests remained totally undisturbed. Perhaps this raid had a much more sinister explanation? I sincerely hope not.

Birds that were present included c180 Black-tailed Godwits, 2 Knot, 3 Gadwall and 2 Common Tern.

Until later.

Full Of Eastern Promise

Reading dispatches yesterday evening - well, okay, birdguides - my attention was drawn to a report of a Black Tern at Marbury Country Park.

Following a few hacks through the welsh mountains I was feeling a little sore in the leg department, so a trip to the flatlands of Marbury Country Park and neighbouring Neumann's Flash seemed just the ticket, especially as the latter site has been productive in the past for rarer waders at this time of year.

I started at Neumann's Flash and began by scanning the jheel from the pathway. I noticed a large white bird roosting on the island that immediately had me thinking Spoonbill, but the heat haze and distance from the bird prevented me from being sure. I quickly repaired to the hide at the south of the flash in order to both move closer and to stand with the sun behind me.

Looking through the scope confirmed my suspicions: Spoonbill! Predictably the bird was asleep; is there any other living organism, aside from a Spanish builder perhaps, that dozes more in the daytime? A very appropriate name too, Spoonbill, although it's scientific name of Platalea Leucorodia is a bit of a bill full.

Ten minutes passed before the bird decided siesta time was over. A little flap of its huge wings followed by a short glide landed the bird in the shallows. With a full shaggy crest, black legs and orange-tipped bill, the bird was obviously in breeding plummage. However, it either lacked - or it was too indistinct to see - a yellow breast band. Moreover, the edges of the primaries seemed to have a hint of darkness to them. A third or four-year-old bird perhaps?

It was prevented from feeding by a pair of protective parents in the form of Canada Geese who proceeded to chase it away from four young goslings. Dashing away - in that rather human-like gait - seemed to be an exertion too far and there was only one agreeable course of action. Time for another snooze!

Very little else of interest on the flash apart from two Little Ringed Plovers that I would have overlooked had they not been pointed out to me by a kind lady from Winsford. Marbury was quiet too, the Black Terns - having continued with their migration - were nowhere to be seen.

Let's hope the continuing easterly winds blow some more this way!

Until later.

The Right Stuff

With the soothsayers of the meteorological office forecasting deteriorating weather as the week progresses, I grabbed the opportunity to survey my two British Trust for Ornithology Atlas squares: SH9758 & SH9856 at Mynydd Hiraethog.

It seems that this area is RAF Valley's premier pilot training region in North Wales. Ever since I first visited this area of the Denbigh Moors - an excellent upland mosiac of habitats - these magnificent men in their flying machines have been busy honing their skills in the skies above.

Indeed the only Hawks I saw today where three dark green RAF planes zipping across the horizon. There cannot have been much ornithological input into the naming of this jet; with their compact, chunky build and short, thin pointed wings they most resemble a Merlin. Similarly, the Harrier Jump-jet that is able to either hover or dash through the air with equal aplomb demonstrates the skills of a Kestrel rather than a Harrier. As for Jaguars, did nobody tell ther RAF that they are feline and lack the capacity of flight?

I began by walking around the perimeter of Llyn Bran where I was met with the soft, descending song of several Willow Warblers. Other common birds included numbers of Robin, Chiffchaff and Chaffinch. The only hirundines present where two House Swallows perched on a telegraph wire, the foot or so gap between the pair suggesting that the female was interested but that the male still had some convincing to do! On the lake a Great Crested Grebe was skulking behind a bush in the middle of the water. It also looked like another bird was sitting on a nest in the midst of the vegetation but I was a little to distant to be sure. I had noted a pair displaying to each other two months back - perhaps the same birds. I continued by walking through the eerily silent plantation, save a flyover Siskin and the odd Robin. Emerging from the trees I met the Clwydian Way as it runs through Gors Maen Llyd nature reserve. More birds here: numerous Meadow Pipits, Skylarks and two pairs of Stonechat.

The next tetrad was through more mixed habitat. I started at the hide that looks over Llyn Brenig where I began by scanning the water. This was not a pleasant experience as the local Gulls and Sheep had been utilising it as a public convenience! A modest start with a few nesting Lesser-black Backed and Herring Gulls plus an unexpected drake Pochard the only birds of note.
Leaving the hide I heard some Lesser Redpoll overhead and kindly they set down in a nearby tree. In attempting to get a better view, I almost trod on a Red Grouse!

I then moved into the pastures after passing back through the car park. Wheatears were absolutely everywhere including one bird in possession of a transit permit only: a glorious male of the Greenland race. Nothing else out of the ordinary as the birdlife again petered once I entered a small conifer block, the endpoint of my survey. I was about return my notebook to my pocket when all of a sudden: "Cuck-oo......Cuck-oo.....Cuck-oo".

Until later.

Little Beauties

Out with the OS map again today. Starting from the village of Glyndyfrdwy (SJ4215) I headed up on to the Berwyns

by following the Nant y Pandy via a path through some very promising deciduous woodland. Eager to hone my aural identification skills, I was fortunate enough to be greeted by a keen avian choir.

However, barely a couple of hundred yards in to my walk and the dawn chours was drowned out by the sound of motorcycles hurtling around an adjacent field. Closer inspection revealed a full-on junior motorcross in action, being watched by a thin crowd of stewards and competitive dads. From Redstart to Kickstart in an instant.

Fortunately the birds were demonstrating considerable sangfroid as the majority were still in full throttle. After coughing up a lung full of two-stroke I immediately located a male Pied Flycatcher singing from the upper branches of an oak tree.

Keen to escape the infernal racket I pushed-on up a rather steep path that led out on to the open moorland. I was greeted by the call of a Cuckoo in full-on surround sound mode. At first I thought it must be the acoustics of the valley, but there were actually two birds calling; one due west of me and another further up the mountain. I could not find the bird to my right, so I continued up the climb only to be met by a fainter and fainter call.

I attempted to find the bird to the east of me again, but this bird was now barely audible too. However, just as I was about to head on a superb male Hen Harrier flew in to view! Living close to the Dee Estuary you can become a little blase when it comes to Hen Harriers, but I never lose that frisson of excitement generated by a chance encounter of this graceful raptor in its true domain - the upland moors.

Upon reaching the edge of the horrific Ceiriog conifer plantation I turned left and continued along the North Berwyn Way until meeting a bridleway that led down to the Afon Ro at the base Vivod mountain; yet another welsh mountain to feature scratch marks to its heather carpet in the form of strange geometrically arranged grouse butts.

Following an old stone wall, the path descended into the Afon Ro valley. Despite its modest proportions there was plenty of sessile oak, birch, rowan and hawthorn - most with a Willow Warbler in residence. By no means were they the only inhabitants though. The wood was teeming with Redstarts and Pied Flycatchers - the latter appearing every one hundred yards or so!

Probably by best bird walk this year. Other birds of note include: 2 Stonechat, 1 Wheatear, 1 Raven, 1 Buzzard and 2 Grey Wagtail.

Until later.

Look North West

This morning was spent at the criminally under-watched Connah's Quay Reserve on the welsh side of the Dee Estuary. By my reckoning - especially since the razing of the hide at the Point of Ayr - the west hide is the best place to watch wading birds on a rising tide on the entire estuary.

Of particular interest is a flock of Black-tailed Godwits. On a good day numbers can run into the thousands, many of which feed directly below the hide as the tide pushes them onto the adjacent Oakenholt Marsh. These elegant and charismatic shorebirds can look spectacular - especially in flight.

I arrived at the hide at 9:00am this morning, equipped with additional clothing. The coldest winter's day I have ever experienced was a summer's day at the west hide on this reserve. Sure enough, when I opened the shutter facing the Ash Pool I was hit with a perishing wind.

Interestingly, most of the godwits were roosting around the pool - about 650 birds in total. Given that so many birds were still in winter plummage, I imagine most are non-breeding birds over-summering on the estuary. Migrants were represented with the presence of five Wheatears perched intermittently along the fence posts.

Oakenholt Marsh was fairly quiet. A perfunctory scan with the telescope revealed nothing more than a Little Egret, a pair of Oystercatchers and a handful of Canada Goose. However, just at the edge of the marsh - newly arrived from the considerably more clement West Africa - were eighty or so Common Terns fishing in the river channel.

Looking out further over the sandbanks I located a Brent Goose standing Canute-like in the face of the advancing tide. I have never seen one this far down the estuary, nor one so late in spring either. Of the pale-bellied race this individual should now be in or en route to Greenland or Canada. Perhaps it was hanging-on for a springwatch producer to attach a radio transmitter to its back and give it a daft name! Quick, on your bike!

Until later.

I, Claudius. MMIX

Braving the strong westerly wind I took a trip to Moore NR near Warrington today, an excellent site of varied habitats that seems to get better year on year.

First port of call was Birchwood Pool. There were plenty of roosting gulls taking a break from scavenging the tip, although none of the Mediterranean, Iceland or Glaucous ilk. Infact, the pool seemeed to be dominated by a junta of juvenile Great Black-backed Gulls strutting around the small island, surrounded by a praetorian guard of Grey Herons, that were in turn circled by a legion of Lesser Black-backed Gulls. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

A scattering of wildfowl completed the rest of the cast - aside from one or five special visitors that is. Wheeooo.

Feeling energetic I decided to press-on around Upper Moss Side. I could hear the faint call of a Cuckoo but failed to locate it; the call being gradually drown out in the gusty wind. The only other bird of note was a male Stonechat desperately tringing to cling to the top of a Bullrush.

Next I opted to walk along the ship canal up the point where it reaches the Mersey. Signs of life were few on the canal apart from a pair of Canada Goose with three chicks - their luminous yellow down giving them the appearance of bath toys.

On the subject of geese, I was listening to Test Match Special on Wednesday. During the tea interval Johnathan Agnew was interviewing the Chief Executive of the MCC, a chap called Keith Bradshaw. Pushed by Aggers on whether there was too much international cricket being played he responded "...we don't want to over-egg the golden goose...".

Numerous warblers en route to the river and also a male Greenland Wheatear on the opposite side of the bank. When I arrived at the Mersey it was fairly quiet. A few gulls loafing on the sandbanks and a handful of geese on the shoreline.

Before heading for home I decided to check Birchwood Pool once more. Very little change in birds - or indeed in administration - with the autocrats still ruling the roost.

Until later.

Return Of The Native

Had you placed two pictures in front of me a few years ago, one of a Hare and one of a Rabbit, I would have had about as much chance of seperating them as I would telling the diffference between Manchester United's precocious Brazilian full-backs Fabio and Raphael. None.

Yet another of our native fauna to suffer from modern farming practices, the Brown Hare is not as widespread as it once was. Nevertheless, I have been fortunate enough to have encountered five or six this spring in various locations around Cheshire, Lancashire and North Wales; indeed, whilst scanning the mosses around Martin Mere for Corn Bunting, I was even fortunate enough to see a pair boxing - the female Hare making a much better fist of defending herself than a certain
Mancunian pugilist!

Brown Hares are identified by their larger size, black-tipped ears, lolloping gait and rather bulging eyes. You can also be sure you have seen a Hare and not a Rabbit if you see it check its watch. If you do see a Hare with a timepiece though, consult a doctor.

There was no mistaking the Hare I saw this morning whilst walking along the stunning North Wales path at Cae'r Mynydd adjacent to the gorgeous wooded Treath Lafan nature reserve. One look at me though was enough and off it darted to its tea party.

I was primarily in this area to find some woodland birds. The steep valley is cloaked with mixed decidous trees, although a good part of the western side is covered with yet another hideous conifer plantation. As you move towards the Aber Falls, the wood thins out as the soil becomes more acidic giving away to grazed pasture and towards the top of the mountains, scree. You can follow a footpath from a car park that runs adjacent to the Afon Aber and when you reach the falls, double back on yourself walking along the base of Moel Wnion.

Despite being such promising territory, I struggled for birds today. Maybe the strong wind was forcing the birds to retreat from the tops, but all I heard aside from a handful of Willow Warblers, Chiffchaffs and Blackcaps was a distant Wood Warbler. When I reached the falls themselves I managed to locate a Grey Wagtail perched ballerina-like on a stone in the gushing river. Following my failure to find a Dipper in the River Elwy yesterday, today, I was hoping for a change of luck, but close scrutiny of all the stones and boulders during the climb had not produced the desired result. Nothing. Nada. Where are these birds?

I crossed the bridge and headed into an area of scrubby pasture, that looked like classic Cuckoo habitat, but alas no Cuckoo - the only compensation being a neat male Redstart. Numerous Meadow Pipits around, but no Tree Pipits - again another bird absent in a favourable environment. As the track climbed the view became more and more impressive. The Carneddaus, The Great Orme and Puffin Island were all clearly visible - I could just about make out a flock of Gannet plunging into the bay too! Here the terrain was fairly stoney and close scrutiny of the mountain side produced three Wheatears. It was just then that a brown object dashing across the horizon caught my eye...

A quick visit to Inner Marsh Farm of the way home brought dividends with my first Hobby of the year and also close views of a hunting male Peregrine. Other birds included 6 Avocet, 7 Dunlin, 1 Sanderling, 150+ Black-tailed Godwit, 2 Knot, 1 Kingfisher and 2 Common Tern.

Until later.

In The Valley Of The Elwy

If I fancy a saunter through the Welsh countryside then my normal method of devising a walk is to find my pencil, scan my library of ordnance survey maps and mark out a route commensurate with my energy levels.

Today, however, I opted to walk a route around the Elwy valley near the village of Llanfair Talhaiarn that I had found in the Pathfinder's guide to North Wales. According to the book, this was the beloved area of Victorian poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, whom I think summed up the beautiful Welsh countryside in two concise lines of poetry:

Lovely the woods, waters, meadows, combes, vales,
All the air things wear that build this world of Wales;

Despite suffering from the manicured appearance of modern farming, the valley is undeniably attractive; the first part of my walk along the bank of the Elwy through lovely mixed woodland produced two Grey Wagtails and a stunning male Redstart in full chorus. Frustratingly, given that the river seemed tailor-made for Dipper, none were located - a bird that seems intent of avoiding me this year!

The mid-point of the walk was through a lovely sessile oak coed, ideal for Pied Flycathers I thought, but today they prooved as elusive as the Dippers - although I did here a drumming Great Spotted Woodpecker.

Following a stiff climb through pasture I eventually emerged on the top of Mynydd Bodran. Clothed in gorse, the top of the hill was peppered with Meadow Pipits and one solitary Skylark in full throttle. Unexpectedly, a Cormorant passed overhead, no doubt commuting between reservoirs. Following the bird flying valiantly into the gusting wind put me one to a single rather tatty looking Raven cruising across the valley. It's great to see that these imperious corvids are now seen all over North Wales and, moreover, seem to be increasing in both numbers and range.

Descending down the peak, I encountered my first Wheatear of the day - an irked male who seemed to have taken umbrage at the presence of five Linnet. The remainder of the walk was along minor roads, with a male Siskin and Treecreeper the only birds of note before I re-entered Llanfair Talhaiarn.

Until later.

Dapper

Normally up with the larks, I was still festering in bed at 10:30am this morning suffering from a 'bad pint' I must have consumed the previous night in Warrington. Fortified by a spanish omelette and a good dose of caffiene I set out for a walk around a former regular haunt - Hockenhall Platts on the River Gowges.

From the depths of the poplar plantation three Chiffchaffs were singing rather half-heartedly, joined by two more enthusiastic sedge warblers from the scrub area behind.

The first birds I encountered in the pastures were three stunning male Greenland Wheatears perched on fenceposts. All were looking resplendent despite being in the middle of a punishing migration; surely there a few birds more handsome.

Across the river, perched atop of a tree, were two rather despondent looking Kestrels gradually becoming drenched in the increasingly heavy rain.

The remainder of the walk to Cotton Edmunds was pretty quiet aside from a handful of singing Common Whitethroat. Sadly, a pair of Curlew that had been resident in the area of the past month seem to have moved to pastures new. Given the availability of suitable habitat I was hoping they would stay around and attempt to breed.

Plenty of rape being grown in this area at the moment which may have contributed to my inability to locate a singing Yellowhammer, "A little bit of bread and cheese, a little bit of bread and cheese."

What a good idea, and perhaps a pickled onion too. Time for lunch.

Other birds of note: two Stonechat.

Until later.

Knowing me, Paul Shenton, knowing you Perdix Perdix

A little obvious I know.

After cosuming 56,284 calories during a gluttinous Sunday evening dinner, I decided to take myself and my corpulent dog out for a hike around Plemstall near the river Gowy.

Being a bank holiday the weather was obviously less than clement. Actually, this is not obvious at all. Why do the troop of BBC meteorologists, notwithstanding the fact that they are all of the scientific ilk, proceed to come out with this hackneyed line? And continuing theme of BBC weather presenters, why does Breakfast's Carol always dress like a cheap stripogram?

Anyway, I digress.

After passing through some stables adjacent to Plemstall church I was out into the wilds of sterile pasture. Then, unexpectedly, "Kronk, Kronk", a Raven drifted overhead being mobbed by two Carrion Crows. Not a bad start. Next on the menu was a dashing male Kestrel, hopefully in the business of satiating hungry mouths. The remainder of the walk to Barrow was a little quiet birdwise save a couple of singing Common Whitethroat and the usual mono-agricultue line up.

Their was little improvement when I walked along a footpath from Barrow to Mickle Trafford too. Also, rather irritatingly, I had to negotiate quite a number of electric fences kindly put across the footpath by the local farmer. Not being Colin Jackson these can be quite an obstacle.

Then just as I cleared the final hurdle and lunged for the finishing line of the A56, I startled two Grey Partridge that quickly took flight and dropped into some deep grass. Great to see that they are still hanging-on locally and only a couple of miles from my house!

I am particularly interested in the status of once common farmland birds and hopefully over the next year I shall encounter some other farmland species such as Tree Sparrow, Yellowhammer and maybe even a Barn Owl.

Other birds of note were 2 Common Buzzard and a good number of Swallows - very few House Martins about though...

Until later.

Some Like it Otter

A trip down to the wonderful Dolydd Hafren reserve in Montgomeryshire on May 1st to catch up with my first UK great white egret yielded something of a surprise.

After summarily failing to locate the Egret, I turned my attention to scanning the shingle riverbank for scurrying Little Ringed Plovers and bobbing Common Sandpipers. After locating two LRPs enjoying brief sexual congress, I caught a dark object diving in the river a few metres away. Dismissing this as a fishing cormorant, I moved my scope back to enjoy another spell of voyeurism, only again to have my attention diverted by an otter popping his head out of the water! Incredible.

Almost dumbfounded by my good fortune, I watched the otter fishing for the next thirty minutes until sadly it ventured upstrean and out of view. I was surprised at how thickset and powerful these aquatic predators are; it would be impossible given good views to mistake one for a mink.

Given the raft of negative stories concerning the gradual degradation of our natural environment it was pleasing to witness for myself that otters seem to be recolonising their former haunts; a sure sign that some waterways are improving. I hope it wont be too long before my next close encounter. Insh Allah.

After the otters disappearance things picked-up on the avian front. Five whimbrel dropped down onto a shingle bank, five common sandpipers revealed themselves, plus another two thankfully more bashful LRPs arrived on the scene. The GWE also decided to honour me with its presence, flying out of a ditch it had been skulking and heading for the river for a good preen. Other birds of note where four goosanders and two singing garden warblers.

However, today there was only one star of the show.

Until later.