Geese. Thousands of them.

With the twitching high priesthood descending for a conclave around a bush at South Shields, I decided to mooch over to Martin Mere for a gander at the geese.

Probably our greatest wildlife spectacle, the sight of thousands of geese descending from a crisp autumnal sky is enough to rouse even the most jaded wildlife watcher.

With relatively small numbers of wildfowl present and only a modest number of Whooper Swans back, the Pinks are bossing the mosses at the moment with numerous yapping skeins commuting to and fro across East Lancs.

Apparently a pair of Tundra Bean Goose has been accompanying the Pinks this year, but you would need the zen like concentration of a gull-watcher to pick ‘em out.

After dragging myself away, the day was finished off at Marshside. The field in front of Nel’s hide is still yet to flood properly, but it still managed to hold the largest numbers of Wigeon I have seen this autumn. This duck seems to have not arrived in any significant numbers yet, especially in comparison to Teal and the masses of Pintail that are building up on the Dee.

A stroll up the road to view the marsh near the Sandgrounder’s Hide produced cracking views of a female Merlin using its tightrope walker-like powers to perch precariously on an electric fence wire.

Also seven – possibly wild – Barnacle Geese were spotted tagging on to a flock of Pinkies flying out into the Ribble in search of some tasty grazing.

Until later.

Lost

In the most shameless piece of corporate placement ever, Tom Hanks' companion in the dreadful Robinson Crusoe inspired 'Cast Away' was an american football called Wilson, the name of the manufacturer.

Equally lost and probably also the victim of inclement weather was another marooned North American of the same name - a Wilson's Phalarope that pitched-up at Martin Mere in Lancashire yesterday afternoon.

Fortunately the birds was still present this morning, so it was straight to the bat mobile for my first twitch of the year.

When I rocked-up at 10:30 the bird was visible from the Ron Barker hide, albeit at a fair distance. Inexplicably, some birders were digiscoping it – must be for one of those ‘record shots’ that they are always banging on about.

Still, it was near enough to identify all the salient features, including that wonderfully delicate needle-thin bill. I was also treated to the fabulous Lancastrian dialect – there is no word better then ‘Phalarope’ to bring out the richness of those wonderful northern vowels!

After twenty minutes or so, the wader flew over to the mere pool with a juvenile Ruff in tow. Here it stayed skulking in the vegetation for an hour, before returning to one of the jheels in front of the Ron Barker hide.

On this occasion, the bird gave excellent views as it fed on insects plucked from the surface of the water.

Although I am clearly no expert, the bird looked like a juvenile moulting into winter plumage. The best person to confirm this would probably be the man himself: Alexander Wilson, the naturalist who the bird was named after. He is long dead though – drowned in a river when trying to track a bird!

Until later.

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.