Back on dry land


The wreck of the Ionic Star was looking mighty fine early doors this morning, and once I’d concluded the guided walk (don’t try this one on your own unless you know the tides, channels etc), and checked to see if the reeling Gropper I had on Friday at Lifeboat Road, Formby, was still about (it wasn’t), I went round to Cabin Hill to give the site a circuit.
Pleasant enough, but very cold when the sun went in, and not much in the way of movement.
Overhead Siskins and Redpolls called, mainly specks against the blue sky, although the buzz of my first Tree Pipit of the year made the trek worthwhile, even if it was frustratingly invisible in the blue.



Three of the local Common Buzzards were up riding the wind, but smaller jobs were decidedly thin on the ground – two singing Chiffchaff, two singing Blackcap and three singing Willow Warbler.
There were some fairly large scale manoeuvres going on across the way on Altcar Rifle Range, so maybe the noise of that had cleared the area – last time I saw that much camo was the Yellow Rumped Warbler twitch in the north east a few years back.
When I was previously at Cabin Hill on Friday afternoon, the fields behind the old farm site held nine White Wags, now the only thing in them was the eight Carrion Crow carcasses strung up and fluttering in the wind (as if that would keep corvids off crops) – how very progressive.
Small groups of Mipits went through, but only the breeding birds dropped down long enough to have a look at.


Started to get a bit depressed thinking about the possibility of the collapse of spring passage – as all birders do on quiet mornings, then remembered that those who have the good fortune to bird Cabin Hill more regularly than me always say the place is at its best at dawn (when I was out playing with shipwrecks in the low tide gloop) and quietens down quick, so I was probably just too late on site.
One good passer migration sesh will put things right.