The Dee and Thereabouts

Author: Colin J

Along the Chirk Towpath

(Sunday 12^th October, 2025)

    Over to Chirk this morning in Wrexham County Borough. We parked up at Canal View in Chirk Bank, which meant we actually started our walk in England (the village of Chirk Bank is in Shropshire), and crossed over to Wales just a short while later. We walked west along the towpath towards the Aqueduct and Viaduct, passing the community gardens and allotments as we went. Although it was a little misty, it was very tranquil and the bushes and trees that line the canal were showing off their autumn colours. And, as you might expect, there was also plenty of colour in the narrowboats that we encountered along the way.

    The Chirk Aqueduct overlooks the spectacular Ceiriog Valley. Looking down from our high vantage point, we could see why the rushing water below has given the River Ceiriog its reputation as the fastest flowing river in Wales. Just east of Chirk, the Ceiriog empties out into the River Dee.

   Chirk Aqueduct and Viaduct

The Aqueduct was built between 1796 and 1801 and rises 21 metres (70 feet) above the valley floor. The Chirk Viaduct runs parallel to the Aqueduct, although it’s a little higher at 30 metres (98 feet), and this was built between 1846 and 1848, nearly fifty years later. It’s always fascinating to see the building work involved with these wonderful pieces of architecture. During today’s visit, we noticed that the extra height of the Viaduct is clearly favoured by scores of Jackdaws: in fact, they regularly broke away in smaller groups to investigate the inside walls of the arches, presumably looking for small insects. What was particularly intriguing was the Jackdaws’ upright stance as they gripped the bricks and masonry with their claws: I’d never before seen Jackdaws demonstrate such ability.

    Jackdaw gripping tightly while grubbing

We paused just before the Chirk Tunnel and decided against entering. Not that we’re scaredy-cats, of course! No, the tunnel is quite a stretch without a torch (421 metres apparently, or 1,381 feet) and it looked pitch black inside. We could see two beams of light penetrating the darkness as we peered down the tunnel, and these lights eventually revealed themselves as belonging to a narrowboat as it slowly emerged near us. The tunnel is only wide enough for one narrowboat at a time, hence the one waiting in the foreground of the photograph. The towpath carries on through the length of the tunnel and we saw walkers as well as cyclists following it or, more accurately, we saw their torches!

    The narrowboat gradually emerged from the darkness

There is a distinct current in the canal which flows generally southwards. It wasn’t so much because of the narrowboats that we noticed it, but the Mallards and Moorhens. Well, the one pair of Moorhens we saw were characteristically shy and quickly disappeared behind the vegetation overhanging the far bank of the canal. The Mallards, though, were having to put some effort into paddling northwards across the Aqueduct and thus against the flow, although they seemed to have adapted to it. (It was like water off a duck’s back as far as they were concerned).

    We re-traced our route, carrying on past the car, and then crossed the road to re-join the towpath on the other side. We passed the Chirk Bank Post Office Collection Box on the corner and noticed some very interesting gardens on the opposite bank of the canal, and some very quirky ones too! We kept going along the path, just savouring the tranquillity, until we reached a point where the canal begins to sweep gently south. Here, we decided to turn back and go in search of refreshments.

The important stuff

Just a short trip to Caffi Wylfa in Castle Road, where we had our usual cappuccinos with Bakewell (Stu) and Date and Walnut cake (Col). Very appetising!

16.10.2025
The River Returns

(Sunday 5^th October, 2025)

    Over to Loggerheads Country Park in Denbighshire this morning. It was 12°C with occasional westerly gusts of wind, although we were pretty much sheltered by the trees either side of the Leete path. In stark contrast to our recent visits when the riverbed ran dry after just a short distance, this time the River Alyn was in full spate and flowing strongly after all the recent rain. We’ve reported elsewhere in the blog seeing Grey wagtails and White-throated Dippers along this stretch of water and, today, we were fortunate enough to witness individuals of both species here, happily sharing the same habitat while exploiting the surge in water.

    Grey wagtail

First to arrive was a Grey wagtail – female, judging by the absence of the black bib. She may have been collecting for her brood, or maybe just herself (we saw no sign of a male today). She re-appeared further downstream a little while later, flying low to land on a rock mid-stream from where she scanned the water, her long tail steadily moving up and down as she did so.

    We moved further through the woods, noticing varieties of fungi as we went. The clusters of fungi decorating the moss-strewn tree trunks appear to be Fairy inkcaps, which are quite common mushrooms throughout Britain. I don’t know what type of mushrooms the bracket fungi are, though: initially I thought Dryad’s saddle, but I’m not so sure now. Until further notice, this shall remain a mystery!

  Fairy inkcaps (top) and bracket fungi (bottom)

We pressed on through the woods always with an eye on the river. Our patience and peering paid off as very soon we saw a brown blur approach from the far bank and land in the water, half-submerging itself. Yes, this was a White-throated Dipper.

White throated Dipper

The bird shifted to a small rock to the side of a naturally formed weir and began its comical, characteristic bobbing. It’s apparently this action that gives the bird its name, as it ‘dips’ up and down: and there was I thinking it earned its name because it enjoyed dipping itself underwater! Trying to identify the sex of a Dipper is very difficult as there is little to distinguish between males and females. On the whole, though, males are larger: looking at this one (and we’re sure that it was the same Dipper that we saw put in a couple of separate appearances), I’d say it was male.

There are a couple of photographs where Stu caught the Dipper with its eyes closed as it was blinking: you can see the white feathers of the eyelids contrast strikingly with its brown head and face.

We watched the Dipper plunge into the water in search of food, which it did tirelessly again and again – in fact, you can see in one of the photographs that it has caught something in its beak. Dippers have a taste for the larvae of Caddisfly but will eat aquatic insects and worms, crustaceans and even small fish, although I can’t identify this particular appetiser here.

   The pleasantly plump Dipper with its beak full

While their solid appearance could be described as ‘pleasantly plump’, their squatness helps make them strong swimmers – they beat their wings rapidly both in and out of the water. Mesmerising. We were exceptionally lucky to have seen both a Grey wagtail and a Dipper along the same stretch of water on the same day.

The important stuff

While building work continues at Loggerheads, this doesn’t mean that travellers like us have to remain hungry and thirsty – oh no! You can get refreshments from The Mill House café (Tŷ’r Felin) next to the mill at the visitor centre, so we had our customary cappuccinos and Bakewell slices as we sat in the lee of the stone wall. Lovely!

08.10.2025
On Silent Wings
(Thursday 2^nd October, 2025)

    I was in the back yard this evening just getting a breath or two of fresh air after work and, without consciously realising, I had fallen into my usual habit of scanning the treetops and rooves of nearby houses. There was neither sight nor sound of any birds – even the familiar chacking of my numerous Jackdaw neighbours was absent. I didn’t think anything of this really: it was approaching dusk and I assumed all of our avian friends had settled in for the night.

    However, as I was looking around me, something caught my attention higher up in the sky. I saw a dozen or so birds flying quite high. They were together, but in a loose flock if you know what I mean, and they were flying silently. These birds had me puzzled to tell the truth: I hesitantly identified them as gulls, but they disappeared from view before I could be sure. I leaned back, trying to see if there were any more birds, and after a few moments I spotted another group. Again, these were quite high up and I didn’t have my binoculars, but judging by their outlines, these were definitely gulls, although I don’t know which type of gull.

    Over the next fifteen minutes or so, several more of these eerily silent gulls flew by, all seemingly heading north-west towards the Wirral side of the Dee estuary. I would never have seen them, even known that they were there, because of their uncharacteristic silence – well, gulls are often the most raucous of birds we encounter!

    I looked online later to see if this was usual behaviour for gulls flying across the evening sky and, as you might expect, there was no definitive answer, although others have evidently witnessed gulls passing in similarly quiet circumstances. One or two people suggested that the gulls were heading out to sea in the knowledge that fishing boats were in the vicinity (presumably with their hauls). This may or may not be true, but this evening’s high tide was around 20:00 hours (although the high tide time varies depending on exactly which part of Wirral the gulls were heading). Nevertheless, the gulls flew past me about an hour or so beforehand, so it’s possible that the intention was to be onshore as the tide began to retreat, exposing the crustaceans and molluscs that they favour. I can’t help thinking that this theory is a bit limited though, given that most gull species will eat anything!

No photographs for this post I’m afraid – just an observation. (The gulls were too far away for my humble camera-phone anyway). ¹
1. I witnessed this phenomenon again on the following evening although the gulls were flying lower this time. It was windier than the previous night due to Storm Amy (although Scotland bore the brunt of the winds) and I thought possibly the storm might have had a bearing on the gulls’ behaviour. However, I’m inclined to think that it’s more the timing of the tides. I’m writing this three days later (Monday 6^th October) and I haven’t seen any similar activity in the last three evenings. Anyway, something to look out for – well, if you’re me at least!
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03.10.2025
Low tide at Thurstaston beach

(Sunday 14^th September, 2025)

    Over to Wirral Country Park this morning. Although there was barely any wind (SSE), it was overcast and the temperature had dropped to a cold 12°C. Mind you, even at low tide when the sea had retreated, there was still activity on Thurstaston beach as various birds searched the mud and the shallow waters of the channels for pickings. There were Shelducks, Redshanks, Oystercatchers and the inevitable Carrion crows, amongst others.

Shelducks and Redshanks

I could hear a Curlew calling across the sands but was unable to spot it – have you ever noticed how difficult it is to pinpoint where a sound is coming from over a vast area? Luckily, though, Stu managed to capture a pair of Curlews scraping the beach for worms: the picture is a little grainy, but all the photographs today were taken from the clifftops.

    Curlews

I’m still not absolutely sure whether the gull wading in the channel near the Little egret is a Yellow-legged gull or a Lesser black-backed gull, but I’m opting for the latter. While both gulls have yellow legs, this gull’s plumage is the dark-grey which I associate with that of the Lesser black-backed gull. However, gulls are notoriously difficult to identify – well, for me they are, and that is my get-out clause, should I be wrong!

   Lesser black-backed gull and Little egret

The Little egret that’s moving in the opposite direction to the gull (whatever type of gull it may be) later joined up with another four Little egrets, and together they stood motionless on the banks of the channel, until occasionally one would swiftly extend its neck downwards and spear its prey in its long beak. I mention this only because I wondered, for no particular reason, what collective noun describes a group of egrets. ‘Congregation’ seems to be the preferred noun, although there are others. I suppose the term might be apt, but only for a well-behaved congregation that is not moving much. Maintaining a spiritual tone, a collection of godwits is known as a ‘prayer of godwits’, although it’s a little more difficult trying to trace where the term ‘godwit’ actually originates.

    This set me on wondering where all these names come from. Some collective nouns do make sense – a ‘murmuration of starlings’, for example. ‘Murmuration’ is described in Merriam Webster as ‘the utterances of low continuous sounds’, which perfectly describes the noise made by the beating pairs of wings of a huge Starling flock swirling around the sky. Others seem a little more obscure: ‘a committee of terns’, ‘a desert of Lapwings’, ‘a curfew of Curlews’, for instance. A ‘parliament of owls’ seems particularly incongruous, seeing as how owls are generally recognised for their sagacity, whereas Parliament, well…

    Eventually, we left the group of Little egrets and all of the other groups to it and headed back. One thing we noticed was, although there seemed to be a plentiful supply of blackberries, rosehips and sloes in the surrounding hedges, these fruits were all small, no doubt a result of the long, dry spell of weather over the last few months, when the plants have had to spread out moisture much more thinly than usual. And, while I realise that we’re now entering autumn, the leaves on many of the trees have already turned and fallen. Food for thought.

The important stuff

Talking of food (well, you just knew that was coming), Flissy’s café had plenty of Bakewell slices, so there was no quarrelling between your correspondents today. Highly recommended – the Bakewell, of course, and also not quarrelling!

18.09.2025
Rain stops play

(Sunday 7^th September, 2025)

    We were at Loggerheads Country Park this morning and, although it was overcast, it was a reasonably mild 18°C, with a light south-westerly wind which was barely perceptible in the shelter of the woods. As we crossed the little bridge to the Leete path, we glimpsed a Dipper scooting upstream. We’ve seen them before along this stretch, but this was to be our only sighting today.[1]

    We followed the Leete a short way, while scanning the riverside, each of us hoping to catch another sighting of the Dipper. I detected a little movement as I trailed my binoculars slowly over the landscape – or riverscape to be more accurate. Looking again, I saw that the movement was the long, see-sawing tail belonging to a Grey wagtail, which was perched on a rock as it scanned the water for food. This one was either a female or a juvenile as it lacked the distinctive black bib that males display during the summer (and I’m classing this as summer, or summer’s end, despite it being meteorological autumn). The grey, white, black, and lemony yellow form a lovely combination as you can see.

    Seen close-up, the Grey wagtail does strike you as being more colourful than its dullish-sounding name suggests, particularly in its underside feathers, and people often mistake it for the Yellow wagtail: the ‘Grey’ of its name refers to its grey back. The Yellow wagtail has an olive-green back and is much more yellow overall. Habitat is often a giveaway when trying to establish species, and Grey wagtails and Yellow wagtails differ from each other quite markedly in this respect. Grey wagtails are usually to be found near running water, where they can hunt for food, whereas Yellow wagtails prefer open fields and meadows, especially favouring ground that’s been disturbed by livestock, such as cattle or sheep, as this means that the birds can easily graze on the worms and grubs that are revealed as a result.

    We have seen Grey wagtails along the River Alyn here many times over the years and we’re fairly confident that they build their nests in the nearby cliffs that overlook the river. We were also lucky enough to see a family of Yellow wagtails quite recently in a cow field, happily scrabbling around the feet of their much larger bovine companions.[2]

There was a little more water – or slightly less exposed river-bed – than the last time we were here. The river still disappears, but now just that little bit further downstream. However, there is still evidently enough food – aquatic and aerial – to satisfy the Dippers and Grey wagtails that share this short stretch of the Alyn. As the title of today’s post suggests we beat a hasty retreat after only an hour-and-a-half or so. The rain came down heavily and, within seconds, the ground became saturated and we were a little bit soggy ourselves.

The important stuff

Sadly, Caffi Florence closed its doors recently, which is such a shame. The staff were wonderful and obviously we have many happy memories. Today, though, we had to go elsewhere for our coffee and cakes and we decided on Daleside Garden Centre in Hawarden (yes, I know, it’s officially ‘Klondyke Strikes’, but we all still refer to it as ‘Daleside’). Anyway, the cappuccinos were accompanied by an Eton Mess slice (Stu) and a Raspberry Meringue (Col). Very nice!

[1] Morning Dippers, Sunday 24^th August, 2025

[2] Bittersweet Memories, Sunday 3^rd August, 2025

11.09.2025
Hungry Heron

(Sunday 31^st August, 2025)

    Over to Roydon Park on the Wirral Peninsula this morning. We took a little excursion into the woods and sat on a bench underneath a beech tree, just looking and listening. Occasionally runners and walkers passed by, the walkers often with dogs accompanying them, the dogs bounding excitedly at the thousand and one aromas that assaulted their senses. Apart from the raucous rattling of one unseen Magpie in a nearby tree, however, it was generally quiet, although I would say soothingly so. One of the many benefits of getting out and about in nature is that it only takes a few moments before your anxieties begin to wash away and you adapt to the rhythm of your natural surroundings.

    Grey heron with its breakfast

Eventually, we exited from the woods and detoured to Roodee Mere, the lake near the miniature railway. A Grey heron was standing motionless on a raised platform in the mere, though we could see that its eyes were closely scouring the water for its breakfast. Several minutes went by when it suddenly lunged into the water and retrieved a fish. Stu managed to photograph the heron with the unfortunate fish in its beak.

The Grey heron trying a different vantage point

We watched a little longer, and we were amazed to see this persistent bird transfer itself to a low branch of an oak tree that was overhanging the water, then conceal itself in the foliage. As it flew to this new vantage point, it really did bring to mind a Pterodactyl. Mind you, I’ve never actually seen a Pterodactyl – I haven’t been around quite that long – but I’m sure you know what I mean.

   Moorhen chick following its mother

There were quite a few Mallards swimming on the water, and Moorhens too: we watched one chick trailing its mother as she determinedly led it away from the heron. (Grey herons will take Moorhen chicks if the opportunity is there, so the mother was right to be cautious). The far side of the mere was bedecked with lilies and other floating vegetation, and we watched in amused fascination as another family of Moorhens, chicks and parents, walked from one lily pad to another with their distinctive high-stepping gait.

    Moorhen chick looking for a comb

Despite the odd gust of wind, it was a relatively warm 19°C and we saw several butterflies flying about at the mere’s perimeter, including Meadow browns, Small whites, and Speckled woods.

The important stuff

Retiring to The Courtyard Café for our well-earned edibles, we very nearly came to blows as there was only one Bakewell Slice left! Fortunately, common sense prevailed and so we sat down and enjoyed Lemon Drizzle cake (Stu) and the aforementioned Bakewell (Col). Marvellous!

04.09.2025
Morning Dippers

(Sunday 24^th August, 2025)

Over to Loggerheads Country Park this still, warm morning (21°C), where we saw a pair of Dippers. As I’ve stated previously, the River Alyn disappears from the surface a short way downstream from the picnic area, but continues to flow underground.[1] Upstream, however, the water still flows sufficiently enough to attract the White-throated dippers, more commonly referred to as just Dippers. These plump, short-tailed birds are very distinctive: mature Dippers have a black back, dark brown wings and tail, and chestnut head and belly, with a completely contrasting white throat and bib. It’s very difficult to tell the sexes apart, although we suspect that these two were a pair, each patrolling overlapping stretches of the river.

Watching them perform their up-and-down bobbing on rocks surrounded by water was fascinating: frankly, it was comical! One of the Dippers submerged itself in the water, presumably seeking food, although I missed this as I was watching its mate further downstream.

Wandering further down the Leete path, we saw several piled logs, which were presumably laid down deliberately to attract insects. A Wren seemed to be making the most of the grubs and larvae, skipping quickly along the rotting branches and in the undergrowth.

Male and female Wrens look very similar, so we’re not sure which sex this was, but what a lovely bird. The Wren is rotund (not unlike the Dipper) and brown, but with very distinctive markings: note the brown and white barring on the wings and the short tail, which is often held erect. At one point, a Robin appeared nearby, probably guarding its territory from the Wren’s incursion, though I’m pleased to say that there was no squabbling!

We sat at the benches which are a little further along the path, where we saw several Small white butterflies collecting nectar from the numerous Great willowherb flowers in the woods. As we returned to the picnic area, through the tree canopy we saw a Common buzzard floating high above the cliffs – we’d heard its high-pitched mewling before we saw it. At the wild garden, a (female) Green-veined white butterfly posed for the camera – the females usually have two spots on their cream-coloured forewings.

The important stuff

After the morning’s exhaustions, we were in dire need of nourishment so, luckily for us, the café – Caffi Florence – was handily situated nearby. Customary cappuccinos were accompanied by a Strawberry and Almond slice (Col), and Coffee and Walnut cake (Stu). Suitably fortified, we were heading back to the car when we noticed a pair of House martins darting in and out from under the roof of the end building. We looked up and saw two well-constructed nests, although only one appeared to be in use. Stu pointed his camera lens upwards and got a couple of shots of the chicks that the parent birds were delivering food to.

[1] See The River Vanishes, Sunday 27^th July

26.08.2025
Birds, Butterflies and Belugas

(Thursday 21^st August, 2025)

    Over to the RSPB wetlands at Burton on the Wirral peninsula today with my mother, my youngest brother, Michael, and his eldest daughter, Sophie. None of them had visited here before. The sun came out from time to time, but it was otherwise overcast. When we arrived, we were told that a Bittern had been seen at the reedbed: it showed itself twice during the time that we were there, but not in our presence I’m afraid!

    A Greenfinch and a Great tit were taking it in turns to visit the feeder, just beyond the visitor centre. While absorbed in this sight, we noticed movement in the undergrowth, and after a few moments we saw several rats shuffling along stealthily: they looked very well-fed and were obviously regular visitors to the ground beneath the feeder, capitalising on all that the birds habitually spilled.

    Above: Mallard on tree trunk (Photo: Sophie)

We meandered around the mere, noting a Mallard squatting on the upper part of a tree-trunk that was half-in, half-out of the water, and a pair of Moorhens that were investigating the edge of the shore for food. While we were looking over at some Canada geese that were swimming at the northern part of the mere, there was a commotion in the water nearby: a Cormorant surfaced, took a few breaths, and then dived in search of fish again. A chance now-you-see-me-now-you-don’t sighting which we were all happy to have witnessed.

Left: Comma – note the distinct white mark that gives the butterfly its name, and Right: Speckled wood (Photos: Sophie)

There were plenty of butterflies today, including Small whites, Green-veined whites, and lots and lots of Speckled woods. In fact, as my niece, Sophie, was focussing her camera-phone on one Speckled wood that was stretching out its wings atop a leaf, a pair of them were spinning around each other as they passed. Sophie also managed to photograph a Comma, its wings upright, and another butterfly which we suspect is a Dark-green fritillary, though we can’t be sure. This is guesswork really, as camera-phones are limited in the photographic detail that they capture, so the resultant picture isn’t exactly pristine. However, given the area that we were in – ancient oaks predominantly – and the fact that the commonest fritillary in the United Kingdom is the Dark-green, we’ll plump for that. (Please let us know if you have other thoughts).

    Above: Dark green fritillary? (Photo: Sophie)

Regular readers will remember that on Sunday just gone (17^th August), we reported lots of small flocks of Canada geese orbiting the marshes nearby. Judging by the amount of Canada geese at the wetlands today, they had all ended up here! They were by far the most numerous bird species to be seen from the main Reception area and also from the Bunker hide, and now looking from the Marsh Covert hide, it seemed that all we could see was Canada geese. However, as if to dispel this idea, Sophie suddenly drew our attention to a Common buzzard that she’d spotted circling to the south, and which rapidly rose in the air on the thermals. We all watched it through the windows, noting its large size even at a distance.

    A number of orange-red dragonflies shadowed us along the paths between the Marsh Covert and Border hides and seemed, at times, to be leading us onwards. These are Common darters, and we even saw one pair mating while they were in flight. A Marsh harrier crossed close overhead and, while we didn’t manage to photograph it, we did have a clear view of its underwing, which was the distinctive grey, fringed with black outer feathers, of the male.

    From the Border hide we could see lots of Greylag geese, Lapwings, and Black-tailed godwits, and we also observed a couple of Redshanks on the far bank and some Teal on the isle nearby, just visible amongst another group of Greylags. On the return journey, just as we emerged from the small copse, a Kestrel flew across our path.

   Above: Common reed

Sophie and I detoured to the reedbed to see if the Bittern was there, but sadly not. As I mentioned at the very beginning of this article, the Bittern was only eluding us – it seems that everybody else saw it that day! A lucky few also saw a Kingfisher and a Hobby. Maybe another time, but I do know that Michael, Sophie and my mother were thrilled to have seen so much during their visit. As we emerged from the reedbed viewing spot, my mother, who was waiting with Michael, said: ‘Did you see the big bird, then?’ I thought we’d missed a Heron or an Egret or another large bird, but she meant the Airbus Beluga which had just flown past. Very amusing!

The important stuff

All four of us had cappuccinos, accompanied by Blueberry muffins (Sophie, Michael, and my mother) and a very tasty vegetarian pastie (Col). Awesome!

22.08.2025
Geese on the Wing

(Sunday 17^th August, 2025)

   Over to Burton Marsh this morning on the western side of the Wirral peninsula. After parking up, we followed the path north-westwards towards Neston, flushing out a male Pheasant from the marsh scrub as we walked close by, although it was completely accidental. It was a little hazy looking over the marsh towards the Flintshire Bridge, but this quickly cleared during the morning.

We saw several separate flocks of Canada geese flying over various sections of the marsh’s broad expanse. (I should call them ‘skeins’ of geese as they were all flying, but the term seems a little pretentious somehow). We were fortunate that one small flock passed quite close above and we witnessed two of the geese move from the rear to the front, which is something that neither of us had seen before other than on television. As the pair moved up, the flying-V formation was somehow maintained. The photograph below captures the moment just after the two Canada geese had changed positions with the rest of the birds.

    I believe that Canada geese resident in the United Kingdom are viewed as non-migratory, although I can guarantee that my local golf-course pond will be absent of Canada geese and Greylag geese for the winter months again this year, so they must go elsewhere within the country. (Mind you, I think that the two pairs of Moorhens that remain here, near my home in North Wales, breathe a sigh of relief at their temporary absence!) I only mention this because I’m convinced that the numerous (let’s be pretentious) skeins of Canada geese flying over the marshes were stretching their wings to keep in trim for a longer flight to be taken soon – perhaps to the eastern part of the country? Whatever the reason, the geese were very active this morning. One group of about seven geese had two stragglers trying desperately to catch up with the rest of their companions: we immediately named them ‘Colin’ and ‘Stuart’, to nobody else’s amusement but our own!

Still chortling at our amazing wittiness, we observed lots of Swallows zipping low down over the marsh gathering and eating as many insects as they could, in order to help ready themselves for the 6,000 mile journey back to South Africa and Namibia, where they will over-winter. We saw hundreds more Swallows later, massing on the telephone lines by Net’s Café, where we inevitably ended up so as to satisfy our demanding stomachs.

Common mallow, Meadowsweet, Yellow iris, Common hemp-nettle (the leaves of which don’t carry a sting but can nevertheless be an irritant to skin) and Crab apple trees bordered the lanes. Fruits were also supplied by Hawthorns (haw berries) Blackthorns (sloes) and Dog roses (rosehips). The thorny thickets formed by these shrubs and trees are also ideal for nesting, as they help offer protection from predators.

    Teasel, Blackthorn, and Common hemp-nettle

The important stuff

As mentioned above, we concluded the day’s outing at Net’s Café, where we both had our usual cappuccinos – accompanied by a Chocolate Brownie (Stu) and a slice of Cinnamon and Apple cake (Col). Scrumptious!

21.08.2025
Bird-ringing at Ness Gardens

(Wednesday 13^th August, 2025)

    Over to Ness Botanical Gardens today for the bird-ringing demonstration being held by the Merseyside Ringing Group. The team had set up mist nets between poles on known or suspected flight paths earlier in the morning, and these nets enable the birds to be caught safely. Each bird is identified by species, sexed (although this is often quite difficult with young birds), weighed, measured from shoulder to wing-tip, and tagged with a unique identifying ring, which is placed around one of their legs. Similar data is recorded for those birds that have been ringed previously and, in this way, a picture can be built up of the behaviours, migratory patterns, population size and general health of the various species of birds.

    Above: Greenfinch and Great tit being held prior to release

Quite a variety of birds were captured, including Blue tit, Great tit, Greenfinch, Chaffinch, Blackcap, Chiff-chaff, Dunnock, Blackbird and a Robin. The Ringing Group were all very knowledgeable and engaging, each patiently instructing various members of the audience on how to safely hold the birds and to safely release them back into their habitat. Sometimes, a bird may be temporarily disorientated, which is why you’re advised to offer a supporting hand beneath them, in case they should fall. When I released the Robin, for example, it remained in my supporting hand for a few seconds before eventually flying off. It was great to see the pleasure on people’s faces – young and old – as they held the birds then released them. Pure joy, really!

    Above: Chaffinch and Robin

If you do get the chance to attend a bird-ringing demonstration, you’ll find that not only do you get to see birds in close-up, but that you learn more about them through this close attention. For instance, I didn’t know how fond of blackberries the Blackcap is, until one of the bird-ringers smoothed back a male Blackcap’s feathers on its belly: this revealed the dark stain of blackberries on the bird’s skin beneath, and we could see the evidence on the bird-ringer’s fingers as well!

    Above: Blackcap (male)

Although we did go up to the viewing point for a few minutes, to look across at the Welsh hills, it was a very hot and sunny day (26°C). This was fine while we were in the shade, but not so bearable out in the open.

The important stuff

The café was very busy here today – there were several other events on at the same time (it was Celebrating Nature Day at Ness Gardens today) – and the extra bodies were adding to the general heat. We decided to chance it and drove down to Burtons at the Manor in Burton village. We managed to park and we sat outside, sipping our cappuccinos and chomping on Orange Clementine Cake (Stu) and Victoria Sponge (Col). Marvellous!

18.08.2025