Inclement

I’ve been out on a couple of birding expeditions this week – a walk from home at Lloc to Prestatyn and a hobble around Greenfield Valley and Dock.

Let’s start at the beginning.

On Tuesday I set off in warm sunshine and a steady breeze and so it was until I neared the Point of Ayr when the skies darkened somewhat, blackened and then moved into a new level of lightless murk hitherto unknown to Man.

Cue monsoon and gale force winds. Fortunately – or so I thought – there was a Hawthorn tree thicker than your average Wag, so I hunkered down leeward side and waited for the deluge to pass – except it didn’t.

Forty-five minutes later I was sodden and with the prospect of three more hours of walking to go I was not a happy camper.

It was a pity really, because things had started well: a Marsh Tit in Garth Wood and a quintet of Brent Geese near Mostyn were unexpected.

When I squelched up at the Point of Ayr there was pandemonium as the waders and wildfowl had been caught with their pants down so to speak.

The combination of the lashing wind and low pressure had caused the tide to cover the marsh in a spectacle reminiscent of a good ten metre effort.

With my bins not in the best of shape and myself not entirely won over to the idea of catching hyperthermia I was in no mood to enjoy the commotion, but there were excellent numbers of birds – particularly Pintail.

Leaving the marsh I headed for the shoreline to undertake a Snow Bunting/Shore Lark hunt, but was surprised to see the waves hammering into the dunes. Not being particularly partial to drowning, I walked along the tops of the dunes until the tide had ebbed.

Alas, not much to report. I’ve not seen any Snow Buntings at Talacre this year and indeed I only had one passage individual last winter. I’m not sure why this is, but I have noticed a distinct lack of a strandline along most of beach…lack of food?

After a day’s convalescence, I was still in the painful throws of severe chafing, but nonetheless decided a trip to Greenfield was in order.

Hobbling long like John Wayne did have its advantages – I was able to pay a little more attention to any arboreal action as I shuffled along.

Plenty of mixed flogs of foraging passerines around, although ‘mixed’ is pushing it a little – the three major groups I located were dominated with Blue and Great Tits with the odd Goldcrest, Nuthatch or Coal Tit thrown in.

I had hoped for a Yellow-browed Warbler, Firecrest or Lesser Spot – fat chance.

Still, a Dipper was a good find as was a Grey Wagtail, both earning a crust on the stream at the bottom of the Valley. This made up a little for the distinct lack of birds on any of the pools, that quite frankly were pony.

Until later.