Classic November murk, when it felt like daylight never really appeared.
A weekend of Lancashire dreich.
But two days off are not to be sniffed at.
Mist, drizzle and low cloud meant the Long-Tailed Duck at Hesketh Out Marsh was almost reduced to diving monochrome yesterday, but the site was still good with Greenshanks, Goosanders, Fieldfare and a big herd of Whoopers keeping the duck company.
If anything low mist made conditions worse today, but a morning birding with Neill Hunt at Marshside was time well-spent.
We called in on the Grey Phalarope first thing as it whirled about under the bank in the usual area, pinned down by Charlie Liggett.
Still spinning after five days, and no signs of throwing up yet (the phalarope that is, not Charlie).
Remarkable.
In case you haven’t seen enough video of the thing twirling around, here’s my latest YouTube clip of it here.
I pondered how its nutrient intake compared to its energy expenditure – with such an intense feeding technique it must burn calories, so presumably the bird must have to grab micro-critters near constantly to make it worthwhile.
Neill suggested we film it for a minute then rewind and count how many times it grabbed prey in slo-mo.
It was time to move on.
We convoyed up to the Crossens pull-in and ‘scoped the inner marsh for an hour or so.
A few Ruff with the Lapwings and Golden Plover, but if anything the mist was denser out here, and the outer marsh was largely obliterated.
That checked we drove to Banks and called on the resident Little Owl, still barn surfing and scowling at Magpies in the usual spot.
Truth be told fatso didn’t do much apart from hunker down, and when the bird dropped off the apex of its fave barn, it could be remarkably hard to spot.
I shot some shaky video in case the owl did anything cool.
It didn’t – apart from falling asleep. Hard life.
Quite the contrast to the frenetic world of the Grey Phal.
Shaky Little Owl vid on You Tube here.
Heading home what looked like a ringtail Hen Harrier was cruising north over the outer marsh north of the Sandplant, but as is often the way, I couldn’t stop the wheels.