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.