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.