The Dee and Thereabouts

Month: December 2025

Goldcrests at Loggerheads

(Sunday 28^th December, 2025)

    Sometimes you just get lucky. We were just about to leave Loggerheads Country Park, in Denbighshire, and head home. Before we did so, we thought we’d take a last quick look from the little bridge opposite the We Three pub. Looking upstream, we caught glimpses of yellow as tiny birds darted around the lower foliage of a tall conifer. (Judging by the leaves, I think the tree is a cypress of some sort, but I’m not entirely sure). These birds were not easy to track but, looking through the binoculars, I could see that they were Goldcrests – the smallest bird in the British Isles and, in fact, Europe. These tiny birds are rarely longer than 9.5cm (3.7 in), with a wingspan no greater than 15.5 cm (6.1 in). On average, they weigh just 6g ( less than 0.25 oz) and are often described as weighing the same as a twenty-pence piece.

    Goldcrest

The Goldcrest has whitish-grey underparts, olive-green upperparts and two contrasting white wing bars, and a distinctive yellow crest on its head, from which it gets its name. The male has a smudge of orange running through the centre of its yellow crest, although this is not always visible: presumably it becomes so when it ‘displays’ during the breeding season. So, the Goldcrest in the photographs could be either male or female. And kudos to Stu – considering how active these birds were as they probed the cones and leaves for food – the photographs turned out really well.

    Goldcrests are actually quite a common bird in the British Isles, where resident birds are joined by migrant birds from Scandinavia during the winter months, although neither of us had actually seen them ‘live’ before. And despite our climate becoming warmer, Goldcrests are still susceptible to the cold: they can ‘burn off’ a lot of body weight overnight when the temperature drops, even when they huddle together. It had been a cold night – and it didn’t climb above 5°C for the whole of the morning – so probably these Goldcrests were replenishing lost energy.

Dipper about to submerge itself

    Earlier in the morning we had seen a White-throated dipper – in fact we traced it to a couple of different spots along the River Alyn. Over time, we’ve noticed that Dippers seem to favour the faster-flowing white water of the river. This one first performed its characteristic bobbing dance, before submerging itself in the river in search of food. Very entertaining!

Dipper showing white eyelid feathers as it blinks

Grey wagtails also hunt in areas of the river where there is fast-running water, but though both species’ territories overlap, somehow they’re both able to share the river’s resources without too much disputation, as far as we can make out. We often see both species out and about at the same time, as we did today.

Grey wagtail on the roof of the mill house

The Grey wagtail flew off before it could be photographed although it – or perhaps another wagtail, we can’t be sure – appeared a little later on the roof of the old mill which is the one in the picture. While some birds are camera-shy, the same can’t be said of our old friend the Robin: a born star that just loves being photographed!

Robin posing for the camera

The important stuff

The Mill House café (Tŷ’r Felin) provided us with much needed sustenance after all that hard work. A cappuccino and a Chocolate Biscoff each soon restored our equilibrium!

30.12.2025
At Heswall Beach

(Sunday 21^st December, 2025)

    This morning, we went across to Heswall Beach on the Wirral side of the Dee Estuary. The car park at the bottom of Riverbank Road was deserted when we arrived, which may have been down to the weather: although it was dry and the temperature was a reasonable 8°C, there was an easterly wind making its presence known. And this wind was sufficiently icy to keep people indoors, apart from one or two brave souls.

    Black-headed gull on waymarker…

…later dethroned by a usurping Carrion crow

Anyway, there was a single Black-headed gull (in winter plumage) which seemed impervious to the weather and spent a good deal of time perched on top of the red waymarker on the beach. (Well, I’m referring to the wooden structure that resembles a lampshade, which I’m guessing is some sort of waymarker or indicator – and on which the gull seemed quite content until it was later dislodged by a pugnacious Carrion crow).

   Little egrets

There were some Little egrets mooching about along the channel several metres out and several Carrion crows foraged individually here and there. At one point, a Marsh harrier emerged briefly from the thin mist and quickly disappeared inland.

Pink-footed geese

We saw several Pink-footed geese nearby. These were resting on the ground about 30 metres out but every now and then they’d take off – presumably to their roosting place. Pink-footed geese are used to the cold conditions of Iceland and Greenland but spend their winters in the United Kingdom. They are known to be wary birds so it’s probable that we inadvertently disturbed them with our presence. In fact, we saw quite a few geese flocks flying across the estuary although most were too far away for us to establish which species they were. As we’ve mentioned elsewhere in the blog, the area is vast, and today this vastness seemed to be emphasised by the general quietness.

    Heswall Beach – as you can see, the wildlife was having a duvet day

After an hour or so, we decided to call it a day: the wildlife just didn’t seem to want to drag themselves out today, and we couldn’t blame them really. So we headed back towards Chester Road and detoured via Boathouse Lane to Parkgate. Here, we again saw geese flocking over the Dee Estuary – well, I did, while Stu drove. It was a nice little diversion before we eventually arrived at the Ness Gardens café. And it’s always a joy driving through these roads and lanes and seeing the old sandstone buildings which are characteristic of the area.

The important stuff

As we headed towards the Ness Gardens café, which is officially The Botanic Kitchen, we were serenaded by a Robin that was singing loudly from a small tree at the side of the path. (Blimey, they make some noise considering their size). Once we were inside though, and this will hardly surprise our regular readers, we each consumed a cup of cappuccino and a slice of Bakewell. Lovely!

26.12.2025
The Rivers Dee

    Until recently, I thought that there were two rivers known as the River Dee – one in Scotland, and one in Wales (which is the one, plus its estuary, that this blog, The Dee and Thereabouts, centres on). But I’ve recently learned that altogether, there are five rivers named Dee: two in Scotland, one in Cumbria, one in Wales, and one in the Republic of Ireland.

River Dee, Aberdeenshire, Scotland.

    This River Dee begins in an area of the Cairngorm Mountains known as the Wells of Dee. It’s the highest source of any river in the British Isles, the river source’s plateau being approximately 1,220 metres high. The river is 87 miles long and flows through Aberdeenshire, eventually spilling out into the North Sea at Aberdeen Harbour.

River Dee, Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland.

    Another Scottish River Dee, this time in the south-west of the country. The river originates at Loch Dee in the Galloway Hills. It travels for 38 miles before reaching Kirkcudbright and then discharging into the Solway Firth on the Irish Sea.

River Dee, Cumbria, England.

    This River Dee is formed by several smaller streams radiating from Blea Moor Moss, in the Yorkshire Dales National Park, in Cumbria[1]. The river travels through Dentdale, which takes its name from the village of Dent ,and flows for about ten miles before joining the River Rawthey, near the town of Sedbergh. (The River Rawthey is in turn a tributary of the River Lune, which eventually – after 50 odd miles – empties into Morecombe Bay).

River Dee, Republic of Ireland.

    This River Dee flows from Bailieborough (Bailieboro) in County Cavan for 37 miles through County Meath and County Louth. The river joins the River Glyde at Annagassan village in County Louth, and both of these rivers then form a short confluence before they discharge into Dundalk Bay on the east coast of Ireland, out to the Irish Sea.

River Dee (Afon Dyfrdwy in Welsh), Wales.

    This River Dee flows through several counties in North Wales: namely, Gwynedd, Denbighshire, Wrexham County Borough, and Flintshire; and briefly enters England at points in Shropshire and Cheshire. The Dee Estuary acts as a natural dividing line between the western side of the Wirral Peninsula, in England, and the eastern side of Flintshire, in Wales.

    The River Dee’s source is on the mountain of Dduallt in Snowdonia, at about 450 metres high. The 68 miles of river flows through Bala Lake (Llyn Tegid), Corwen, Llangollen, Bangor-on-Dee, Farndon, and Holt. Once it reaches Chester, the River Dee becomes tidal and is noteworthy for its tidal bore which is usually produced during a spring or autumnal equinox, although tidal bores may occur at any time of the year if conditions are favourable.

    The River Dee at Chester…

…and some local residents. (Above: Cormorants. Below: Grey heron

After Chester, the river crosses the border to Saltney, which lies mostly in Wales, although some of the town is in England, as the aptly named Boundary Lane reminds us. (Here, the border technically runs down the middle of the road! This is the only suburban street which divides England and Wales in this way). The River Dee travels on past Queensferry to Connah’s Quay, where it opens out into the Dee Estuary. The estuary itself is about 12 miles long and 4.5 to 5 miles wide: note that these are approximate figures, as information varies, depending on which sources you look at.

    Towns on the Welsh side of the estuary include Flint, Holywell, and Mostyn. On the Wirral side of the estuary, lie Neston, Parkgate, Heswall, West Kirby and Hoylake. Just north of Talacre in Flintshire is the Point of Ayr, which is the northernmost tip of Wales, and between here and Hilbre Point, near Hoylake and West Kirby on the north-west of Wirral Peninsula is where the Dee enters Liverpool Bay on the Irish Sea.

    From Chester to Connah’s Quay, the Dee has a very straight ‘canalised’ section. This artificial channel was dug out by Dutch engineers between 1732-36 in an attempt to return Chester to its historic importance as a port. However, this was only partially successful as the River Dee eventually silted up again. The work also effectively diverted the river away from places it once meandered around, including Blacon, Saughall, Shotwick, Burton, and Parkgate.

Further reading

Much of the information for each of these Dee rivers was gained from just looking at the various maps available on Google Maps, OS maps, and Wikipedia. I also found the following sources useful:

https://chester.shoutwiki.com/wiki/River_Dee

https://www.keithatkinson.me.uk/history-of-shotton/5-the-river-dee-the-latchcraft-pits/

https://www.liverpool.ac.uk/~cmi/dee/dee1870.html

https://ntslf.org/tides/about-tides/tidal-river-bores

https://www.parkgatesociety.co.uk/

[1] I take a childish pleasure in reporting that there is a Mossy Bottom as well as a Hazel Bottom near Blea Moor Moss. And there you were, thinking I was all grown up!

16.12.2025
A Visit to Royden Park

(Sunday 30^th November, 2025)

    We were at Royden Park today – more specifically Roodee Mere near the miniature railway. It was quite a cool 6°C, although the very light wind (WSW) and the occasional burst of sunlight belied the temperature. Mind you, it was much warmer when we were last here in August: the Grey heron was having a leisurely feast at the time, if you remember? Today we saw the heron again: first very briefly before it slinked away through the undergrowth; and a little later we caught a glimpse of it flying above the trees. We suspected it was on its way to Frankby Mere, though we couldn’t be sure.

   A very still Roodee Mere…

While the Grey heron shied away today, there were plenty of Moorhens and Mallards to be seen. Stu got a couple of shots of one of the Mallards just after he’d dipped his head beneath the water (the male Mallard that is – not Stu) and you can see the beads of water on him. The majority of these Mallards were males – I counted only two females.

…until a Moorhen created some ripples

“Just like falling off a log”, said the Moorhen

Now, something I only recently learnt about is what is known as an ‘eclipse plumage’. This occurs in Mallards and other ducks at the end of the breeding season, when the males moult their feathers and replace them with less colourful brownish feathers – similar to the females’ in fact. From this point until their second moult, several weeks later, the males are unable to fly as they also moult their flight feathers at the same time as discarding their ‘breeding’ feathers. Consequently, they are vulnerable to predators and the male Mallards often disappear to separate areas away from the females and their nests. Clearly, this bunch of male Mallards had all recovered their plumage after their second moult, which probably accounted for the greater number of males than females. And they were once again able to fly. There are several interesting resources on the subject of eclipse plumage and the article on the Scottish Wildlife Trust blog is a good place to start: https://scottishwildlifetrust.org.uk/

Mallard just after he immersed his head in the water

    Meanwhile, a solitary Black-headed gull appeared at the mere and, despite being one of the smaller gulls, they are very loud: there were several noisy Magpies in the treetops making their distinctive rattling sound but they were all drowned out by this small gull! To be clear, the Black-headed gull was in its winter plumage, which is when they lose their black heads, retaining only a dark spot behind each eye. Just to add to the confusion, the dark head of the summer plumage is more a chocolate brown than black, although it certainly looks black from a distance. The beak and legs on the Black-headed gull are red, as you can see.

    Black-headed gull in winter plumage

There are a few birds that have a summer plumage that’s distinct from their winter wardrobe – Knots and the Black-tailed Godwits which lose their lovely, rusty red colouring, come to mind – and it’s generally thought that the more subdued winter colours help the birds blend into their environment and offer protection from predators. This change in plumage doesn’t apply to all birds though. Adult Robins of both sexes, for example, retain their red breast year-round: it’s thought to be a territorial warning to other birds.

This Robin played hide-and-seek with the photographer

The important stuff

We enjoyed our usual cappuccinos and a good-sized Bakewell slice each at The Courtyard Café. Ah! Bliss!

03.12.2025