The Dee and Thereabouts

Tag: wildlife

Parkgate, early November

(Sunday 2nd November, 2025)

    Early November, and it was a reasonably mild 11°C at Parkgate, Wirral, this morning, although the (SW) wind-speed increased later, turning the day a little cooler. We parked up at the Old Baths car park and watched as a flock of thirty or more Greenfinches flitted by. A Kestrel hovered over the marsh, swooping from one viewing position to another.

   Grey heron

We spotted a Grey heron standing statue-like in the reeds. I’m always impressed by these birds’ forbearance as they wait for their prey: certainly this one barely moved all the time we watched. We moved off towards the Boathouse and witnessed a dozen or so House sparrows feasting on Teasel seeds on the other side of the wall. Further out across the marsh were separate flocks of geese, although they were a little too far away (and too quick) for us to identify clearly.

    We kept scanning the marsh through our binoculars as we went along The Parade, which made for slow progress: then again, it’s only natural really, given the wealth of wildlife that inhabits this vast area. There were one or two Little egrets stalking the distant ditches, and we spied several more Grey herons, separately watching their own areas of the wetland.

   Another Grey heron

So engrossed were we that we almost missed the Marsh harrier that suddenly appeared from out of nowhere. It flew quite low, scattering a lot of small birds as it went, although one or two Feral pigeons flew by seemingly oblivious to the threat that this raptor represented! The Marsh harrier flew further out, staying low, until we lost sight of it eventually.

    Marsh harrier (male)

At the Donkey Stand, we looked out to the pond and could see a family of Northern shovelers, several Mallards and Moorhens at the margins of the water, and what we took to be some Black-headed gulls in their winter plumage. We also counted four Little grebes, each of which kept diving below the water only to resurface quite a while later in a different part of the pond. We were unable to capture the birds on camera, unfortunately.

    The Marsh harrier re-appeared, this time accompanied by its mate, though each of the birds concentrated on different areas of the marsh. Again, a mini-panic ensued as several of the smaller birds desperately flew away from the pond. A lone Carrion crow flew towards the female harrier, loudly cawing as it did so. A second crow joined it and both of the harriers made a tactical withdrawal. It’s always fascinating to watch crows in such situations: they never seem to be deterred by the risk of danger.

Mallard family

On our return journey, we carefully scrutinised the marsh and spotted some of the Grey herons again, still standing motionless in hunting mode. There was a family of Mallards hidden amongst the vegetation, and the Kestrel returned and hovered nearby, allowing Stu to get a picture. Before all that though…

The important stuff

We remained at the Donkey Stand and had our refreshments al fresco. Stu went across the road to the nearby Elephant café for the regulatory cakes and cappuccinos. a chocolate brownie for Stu, and a shortbread for Col – and, even better, the café very kindly supplied a biscuit with each of our drinks!

Female Kestrel facing into the wind

06.11.2025
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
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
Bittersweet Memories

(Sunday 3^rd August, 2025)

    Over to RSPB Burton Mere Wetlands today and, even though we arrived shortly after 9:00 am, it was already busy. We had been informed that there was a flock of Yellow wagtails in one of the fields inland from the Bunker Hide, so we headed through the south-easterly gate and, just past the hide, we joined several folks who were each aiming cameras, binoculars or ‘scopes at a small herd of cattle in the nearby field. Of course, everyone was actually focussing on the tiny Yellow wagtails next to the cattle: these were darting about, collecting grubs and insects from around the ground that had been disturbed by the cows’ movements. Most of the cows were lying down predicting rainfall, but the wagtails were busily hopping about regardless. The birds were quite some distance away, so the photos aren’t great, but you can see the difference in scale. (The Yellow wagtail is to the bottom right of the picture).

    We moved on to the picnic area but didn’t stay long as a faint drizzle began to fall, so we sought somewhere a little less exposed to the elements. Retracing our route, we headed back to the Visitor Centre, emerging at the opposite side. Several Coal tits were retrieving snacks from the feeder as we passed. The drizzle having stopped now, we took a slow amble around the mere, seeing Mallards, Northern shovellers and Canada geese here and there. As we approached the reed screen, we could see what looked like a male Marsh harrier in the distance, although he (if a ‘he’) wasn’t around long enough to clearly identify, and quickly disappeared into the distance.

    There was plenty to be seen from the Border hide today, including Coots, Shelducks, Greenshanks, Moorhens, Black-tailed Godwits and Lapwings. Separately stalking the shallows on the far bank, were a Great white egret and a Grey Heron.

Each bird studiously examined the fringes of its section of the pool before deftly stabbing below the surface for food. A little nearer by was a large gaggle of Greylag geese, quietly relaxing on the water. We noticed a completely white goose which was happily preening itself and feeding amongst them, and this was presumably a genetic throwback: apparently, the geese that were originally domesticated by humans were derived from the Greylag. As we made our way back, we saw a skein of Canada geese flying low, presumably coming into land, and Stu got a good picture of them I reckon.



To the side of the path, we recognised the distinctive shape and colouring of a flower that we’d seen along this way previously. Its purple flowers are often swept back, which emphasises the protruding yellow stamens: to me, the flowerhead resembles a colourful throwing dart, but maybe that’s just me. I looked up the plant later and discovered that it’s called Bittersweet. The berries, while benefitting some birds such as thrushes, are poisonous to humans although historically parts of the plant were used medicinally. (The bitterness of the plant left a sweet aftertaste, hence its name). Perhaps more importantly, Bittersweet can intermingle with other climbing plants to offer dense shelter for animals and birds.

The important stuff

Back at the café, I had a toasted tea-cake with my cappuccino. Stu’s cake – a glorious pink and yellow concoction – looked unappetizingly high in sugar and saturated fats, although neither of us can remember what it was called. A mystery then, although I believe that he still went home and complained to his wife that he was hungry!

13.08.2025
Spotted in the garden

(Wednesday 23^rd July, 2025)

Down to the garden for my customary post-work respite, and I found a Seven-spotted ladybird reposing on one of the coping stones of the lower wall. There were several Small white butterflies and a Large white at the bottom of the garden. There were a couple of Holly blues too: at first, I thought that it may have been the same one travelling the length and height of the ivy,

but I was eventually disabused of this notion when I witnessed two of them spinning around each other, though I’m not sure whether they were bickering or flirting!

As I watched these spinning butterflies, my line of vision was interrupted by what I’m fairly certain was a Meadow pipit scampering across the top of the two steps that descend to the lawn. Its markings were darker than the whiteish cream of the textbooks, and overall it was brownish although obviously mottled below. The tail was distinctive though the legs were more of a red hue than a pink. I’m sure it wasn’t a Tree pipit, although pipits are notoriously difficult to tell apart. (Well, they are for me).

Later I watched our resident Goldfinch alight on the very top of a huge Norwegian spruce in a neighbouring garden, which towers above all of the trees nearby. Uncharacteristically for this Goldfinch, he remained silent but watchful until he suddenly launched himself from his perch and dived towards the ground, but his descent was quickly screened by the border foliage, so I didn’t see the result of this kamikaze leap.[1]

[1] I’m pleased to say that Mr. Goldfinch re-appeared the next evening and sang from his customary perch at the end of the television aerial. He practised his scales for a while and then flew off – no mad diving this time!

05.08.2025
Butterfly blues

(Thursday 3^rd July, 2025)

Down to the garden after work – I noticed a Harlequin ladybird on the brown bin lid as I went by. This one was a pale yellow with black spots, though what it was doing on the bin lid I have no idea. Jackdaws and Crows predominated today and both corvids were very voluble in their own raucous ways.

My resident Robin appeared,

    hopping along the ridge of the fence to see what was to be seen, and three Goldfinch seemed to be tree-hopping, twittering as they did so.

    I watched excitedly as a large, yellow butterfly fluttered around the Buddleia at the far end of the garden, and then flew towards me before disappearing over the hedge. This was the first Brimstone I had seen for a couple of years. In fact, this was my first ever sighting of a male Brimstone, having only ever seen one Brimstone previously, which was the lime-green female. (The female was at the entrance to the path that edges the golf club, which is about half a mile away, although further away in time) I am so pleased to have seen one again. I’m not very knowledgeable about butterflies, but I believe the Brimstone is very scarce here in North Wales.

    It was certainly a day for butterflies: besides the Brimstone, there were a few solo, Green-veined whites, and a pair of Large whites twisting around each other as they flew over me to the other side of the hedge. And there was a Holly blue climbing up and down the ivy of the hedge, not unlike a bee in its rather haphazard flight. And I’m sure I saw a male Common blue. Certainly, it was a lot brighter blue than the mauve-blue shade I associate with the Holly blue, but I was puzzled as this Common blue was flying up and along the high hedge – apparently it’s generally the Holly blue that flies high while other blue butterflies fly low. Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to photograph it so it will have to remain a ‘maybe’.

17.07.2025