Category Archives: North Wales

Zig-zagging up the Great Orme

12 Wednesday Sep 2018

Posted by in Nature of Wales, North Wales, Walking Trails, Wildflowers of Wales

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I hope everyone’s enjoyed this amazing summer as much as we have here in North Wales. It’s been glorious, but I seem to lose my blogging mojo when it’s hot and dry and tend to stray away from my local patch whilst it’s busy with tourists and holidaymakers. But the cooler days we’ve had recently have rekindled my enthusiasm for getting back out there and I’m planning to add a few more of our local trails to my repertoire.

September 7th-Great Orme

The Great Orme headland attracts a great many visitors throughout the year, particularly over the summer and in the school holidays. Most are drawn to the Summit, which offers fantastic views and other amenities, and choose to get there on the historic Tram; via the dramatic option of the Cable Car on the bus or by car. The more energetic, and those wanting to experience the wilder sides of this unique Country Park prefer to get there under their own steam and walk. There are a good few route options for doing that, including specific mapped and marked Trails leading you up, down and around the headland, including the one I followed today, the Zig Zag Trail or in Welsh, Igam Ogam.    

The Zig Zag Trail ascends, or descends the Great Orme between Llandudno’s West Shore and its Summit, or vice-versa of course. I hadn’t walked this trail in its entirety before, so decided to do it going upwards and consider my options for getting back down again based on how I felt when I got to the top. The official Trail Guide informs that ‘this historic trail gives easy access up the steep West Shore escarpment. It promises breathtaking views across the Conwy Estuary to Snowdonia and warns that the route is on steep ground. 

The first part of Zig Zag Trail marked by the fence posts

This morning was damp and showery, so having waiting for it to clear up I set off later than I’d hoped.

14.30  I parked on the road alongside West Shore. The strength and coolness of the wind blowing in across the sea caught me a little off-guard as I left my car; I was thankful I’d worn a fleece and even more so that my lightweight shower/windproof jacket was on the front seat where I’d left it a couple of days ago. I guessed it would be even windier higher up on the exposed sides of the headland, so anticipated arriving at the summit with hair looking like that of a wild woman, but probably not hot and sweaty. I walked up to where Marine Drive ends and where its old Toll House, now a private dwelling is located. A lovely spot to live, but the clatter of cars driving over the cattle grid not far from your living space and the metallic clunk of the gate closing behind people passing through to and from the pathway might get a tad irritating.

14:34 The view across the bay and the Conwy Estuary is always amazing, but today’s weather has made it spectacular. Low clouds coloured from dark steel grey to bright white hang low over the summits of the mountains, partially obscuring them and the Anglesey coastline. The tide was low and shallow water and exposed sand reflected back the light passing through the ever-changing cloud pattern above. It’s a cliché I know, but it really does look like molten metals, silver, mercury, steel, pewter all blending together and ruffled by the wind.

14:35 Looking towards where I am heading, I spot three goats lying down just below what I think of as the Butterfly Track. Contentedly chewing cud they’ve doubtless found the warmest spot catching any available sunshine.

A Herring gull momentarily hangs motionless over the edge of the clifftop, supported only by air.

14:36 Just before the Toll House I turn right, go through the metal gate and am on the path that will lead to the beginning of the Zig Zag Trail. The path begins as it will soon continue, with a series of zig-zagging steps. The views from up here are even better and people and cars are already tiny.

Turning to look down I spot a Kestrel hovering very close by and almost at eye-level. It’s flapping wildly trying to maintain a position, but quickly flies off over the headland. (I was disappointed that my one image of it was blurred, but no time to focus properly!)

At the top of the steps the path levels out and is edged along one side with a line of seats; all bear plaques commemorating people that once loved the views from here.

 And who wouldn’t admire the views there are from here?

If you were to carry on along this path, you would arrive at the Haulfre Gardens, but before you get to there you find the beginning of the Zig Zag Trail, tucked close to the side of the second little shelter building you come to. There’s an ‘Alice in Wonderland’ Trail marker on the ground here too,  pointing back the way I’ve come.

14:46 I’ve been dawdling as usual, so have taken almost 20 minutes to get this far. It would likely have taken 10 minutes at the most walking at a normal pace. I think I’d better get a wiggle on when I read on the post that the Trail is 2 miles long and estimates two hours to reach the summit from here. But then the Trail Guide says the Trail is about 1 mile long and should take about 1½ hours. We’ll see.

14:48 The Trail immediately begins to climb, in the promised Zig Zag style, via a series of stone steps that vary in their length and incline. There are plenty of opportunities to stop and pause for breath if you need to and in places there are benches to have a sit down on.

14:53 It’s not long before I stop to look at that view again. The sky is darker now so it looks even more magical.

In places the track is dry with loose gravel making it slippery and other eroded areas where exposed rocks could trip you up. I’m glad to have my walking pole and that I’m walking up, not down. I don’t want to exaggerate though, mostly it’s in a perfectly safe condition, you just need to pay heed to where you are and take plenty of breaks to take in views and notice the wildlife.

15:01 Late August and early September is when patchworks of golden Dwarf Gorse and purple Heather light up some of the higher reaches of this headland, and seeing them before they are finished was part of the reason for walking this trail today. There is some of the coarser common Gorse in flower too.

Dwarf Gorse is a much neater, more compact plant than its common cousin.

Dwarf Gorse-Ulex minor

There’s not much in the way of wildflowers in bloom along the trail now, a sprinkling of Rockroses and the occasional dot of Scabious linger and there are a few later bloomers, Goldenrod and what I think is Calamint amongst the grass and gorse of the trackside.

Calamint
Goldenrod

15:03 Still climbing steadily

There’s a bench at the top of this flight of steps, the second one I’ve passed.

I check out the views from here; they are becoming increasingly extensive. The Trail’s less steep from here and a way-marker post directs you to the left.The way-marker posts for this Trail all have a narrow black band around them.

15:07 You can see from this view that the Trail is still going up and has begun to curve around to the left.

15:09 My first spot of Heather

15:13 A short distance to the right of the Trail there’s a stone wall that from a distance looks like a building. Making a short diversion to investigate I see it’s just a wall supporting or holding back ground that is at a higher level and is probably part of the farm wall noted in the Trail guide. I hadn’t expected to get this view over Llandudno town and Bay to the Little Orme from there. I’d be really bad at orienteering.

 

15:14 Back on track, it’s beginning to feel a bit ‘wilder’. The next section is narrower, edged with bracken and long grass and seeming to lead to a solid cliff-face.

Hawthorn trees, stunted and leaning over show this area is frequently exposed to strong prevailing winds.

A few sneaky invasive Cotoneaster plants are laden with bright shiny red berries, so tempting to hungry birds that will doubtless ensure its spread…

15:19 The Trail cuts up through the cliff and now the landscape opens up and the well-worn track wends around a rounded hilltop between domed bushes of gorse.

Near the cliff edge now the path straightens for a while and there are views across the sea. The low land on the horizon is Anglesey with the tiny Puffin Island off its tip.

Sheep graze up on the ridge above; there’s plenty of fresh new grass to keep them busy.

15:22 Continuing along the cliff the landscape changes again. There’s a long stone wall that looks like it bounds the long edge of small fields and what could be a hedge along the far side, maybe of gorse.

I spot a patch of paler purple amongst the golden gorse; this is Heather, or Ling. Looking closer I see the a little of the darker purple Bell Heather too, which is more prolific here on the dry heathland.

Dwarf Gorse with Heather

The Trail continues along the side of the hill and I see more wall going up and along the ridge. Is this the farm wall the Trail guide says is ‘above you and to the right’, I wonder.

You can also see the back of houses which I guess are on Tyn y Coed Road. As I said, even with a map and in a confined space I don’t necessarily know where I am!

It’s easy walking along here and really pleasant despite the continuing side wind.

15:24 Down below me I spot a little flock of sheep that are tucking in to a patch of what seems to be long green grass. Seeing them this close to the cliff edge with their heads down makes me feel a little bit nervous, but I’m sure they know what they’re doing.

15:25 As I’d stopped to look at the sheep I turned around to look back at where I’d come from. The view just keeps getting better. The patterns of sand and water are fascinating. I can clearly see the Conwy Estuary and can just make out Conwy Castle on the far bank of the river. The sun is shining on Deganwy.

15:26  The track continues wriggling along the clifftop, now curving through an expanse of Dwarf Gorse, some in flower and interspersed with the dark purple of Bell Heather.

Such a beautiful combination.

Dwarf Gorse with Bell Heather

15:28 A bunny out nibbling the grass pricks up his ears and turns slightly to watch me. He obviously doesn’t see me as a threat and stays put until I’ve passed by.

Another moody view of the clouded Snowdonian mountains across the Bay.

15:31 Towards the end of this flattish section of track along the cliff it starts to rise again. I can see where it’s headed as there are two people up on the rise that I assume are walking down. I realise that they are, or will be the first and only people I’ve encountered since I got onto the Trail. What a privilege having all this wonderful space and scenery to myself.

15:32 A rocky bit.

Down below I see that the flock of sheep I’d photographed grazing on the cliff edge a short while ago are on the move. Behind a leader they’re walking in an orderly line along a defined narrow track on the way up the side of the cliff, which must mean this is a well-used route. I am charmed by the sight and also can’t help but notice that they add another element into a pleasing intricate pattern of sand, water, groynes and rock.

Above me are more sheep. I focus on a ewe that has been given an interesting layered haircut and her well-grown chubby woolly lamb intent on grazing at her side.

Another view of the Bay with its ever-changing patterns of light and shade. The sun is still shining on Deganwy.

It’s also chosen a big green field to light up.

15:37 In front the far tip of the headland is just visible.

Looking back you could imagine you were on a wild and windy moor with views of far distant mountains. Perspective is a baffling thing.

A little further on more of the far end of the headland is revealed and I can make out the line of Marine Drive, the Toll Road, curving around it.

I’m a little confused here: there’s a sharp turn to the right, but is that  narrow gravelly track cutting steeply to the top of the cliff the way I should be going, or is it just a sheep track?

I take the track and stop half-way up for another look at the view. Although it’s all a bit hazy, I can see even further along the Estuary from here to Conwy Castle and just beyond.

Fascinating sky and sea.

15:43  I’m glad to see this I’m going the right way. 

I’m on heathland now and see more of the glorious golden gorse and purple heather I was hoping to see.

Sheep are pretty much everywhere, but I spot the first back-fleeced lamb I’ve seen today. I recognise it as a Herdwick, only because I know the lambs are born with black fleeces and they’re about a year old before the wool on their heads grows out revealing the white hair beneath. As they age their fleeces turn to a dark brown and then to their characteristic grey, but their heads stay white.

15:45 A nice view of the Little Orme and the distant Clwydian Mountains.

15:46 The track seems to disappear here and I hesitated before carrying on.

There’s another track to the right that leads to a wall with a stile, should I go that way?

I head that way and pass what must once have been a small enclosure, surrounded by now tumbled-down walls. They make an interesting foreground for a view.

I climb over the stile and walk down a narrow track that looks like it might lead to a farm or something.

15:54 Round the corner there’s a man with a dachshund dog standing looking at two goats in an enclosure. He told me this is indeed a right of way, but not the one I want. I need to go back and head for the cliff. I find the path.

15:56 Ahead is another view looking down over Llandudno Bay with the Little Orme on the left, Penrhyn Hill and the Clwydian Mountains again beyond Colwyn Bay.

15:57 High up, not quite at the top yet, but I spot the aerial planted on the Summit on the horizon.

16:01 The end of the Trail is in sight.

The gorse-and-heather mix is beautiful here.

A look back at the way I’ve just come

Just look at that sky!

So now I’ve almost reached the road that leads to the Summit.

The end, or beginning of the Trail is here, a little to the side of Bishop’s Quarry.

16:15 I walk up towards the Tram’s Summit station and cut across the track to the refreshment kiosk. Sitting at a bench with a cup of tea it’s time to consider how to get back to the car. The sun has disappeared now, it’s windy and quite chilly. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my walk but am not inspired to retrace my steps. I look at the Tram that will be leaving any minute now. I buy a ticket to go down on it.

Hot on a Hillside Trail

13 Friday Jul 2018

Posted by in Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, butterflies, Local Nature Reserves, North Wales, Walking Trails, woodland walks

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July 7th – BRYN EURYN

Another hot sunny day. Not my idea of perfect walking weather, but I  wanted to see how the hill, or rather its wildlife was holding up under the scorching weather, in particular hoping there would be butterflies.

It was pleasantly cooler inside the woods, but the ground was bone dry, hard and at this lower end of the path scattered with shed Laurel leaves, often a sign the plants are short of water.

I stopped at the small scrubby patch, often an insect hot-spot. Hot it was, but not with aerial activity. The nettles have flowered and are beginning to set seed and I noticed many of their leaves have been ravaged by insects. That set me thinking about the battles going on all around me between plants and their attackers and some of the other roles that leaves play.

An insect-eaten nettle leaf with stinging hairs left in place

I like to see eaten leaves as it’s a sure sign there are insects about, but of course plants need their leaves to supply them with food, so many do what they can to preserve them. Nettles have particularly aggressive defences;  as those having had  painful encounters with them will testify. They’re not aimed at us specifically of course, rather at grazing animals. They have stinging hairs, every one tipped with a tiny glassy needle that breaks off at the slightest touch that is sharp enough to cut skin; simultaneously poison is squirted into the wound from a small chamber at the base of each hair. Ouch! Even nibbling rabbits avoid them as they have sensitive noses and find the sting as unpleasant as we do. Despite this, nettles are the favoured food of such insects as the caterpillars of the Small Tortoiseshell and Red Admiral butterflies: they simply chomp through the safe juicy parts of the leaf, going around the dangerous stings, leaving them neatly in place.

Nearby a more pacific Wild Privet shrub is blossoming. Harmless in itself, but spiders have built webs over their fragrant blossoms in hope of capturing unsuspecting nectar-seeking insects.

Sycamore leaves are already freckled with Tarspot-Rhytisma acerinum. Although it occurs on other trees too, including Willow and Eucalyptus, it is generally referred to as Sycamore Tarspot and by this time of the year it’s practically impossible to find a Sycamore tree without it. This common and widespread fungus doesn’t look pretty, but doesn’t seem to adversely affect the trees it afflicts. Looking at Tarspot I then noticed a leaf that was curled at an edge. I have no idea what had accomplished this neatly rolled cylinder, clearly some species of insect at some stage of its life, but it impressed me greatly.

The structure is tightly rolled, like a small cigar, secured along the long edge and open at both ends. There are ‘blisters’ on the leaf too, so I wondered if there may be a connection?

Leaves make perfect landing and resting pads for butterflies too. This bramble leaf had served as such for a Green-veined White butterfly that took off just as I’d focussed on it! You can just see it rocketing out of the top of the photograph.

A Speckled Wood was more obliging, pausing on an ivy leaf at ground level.

Another spider’s web, this time utilising an Ash leaf.

WOODLAND TRAIL

Close to the junction of my Woodland Path with the Reserve’s Woodland Trail there are a few plants of Hogweed flowering. It was devoid of much insect interest at this time – occupied by just one feasting Eristalis sp. hoverfly. (I’m fairly sure it was Eristalis pertinax, but its diagnostic yellow tarsi were sunk into the flower petals.)

Hogweed has impressively large and interestingly-shaped leaves; this one was showing signs of having been nibbled and there are aphids dotted around on its surface. These plants often play host to great colonies of aphids that pierce the veins of its stems and leaves to feast on its sap. The aphids then attract insects that eat them, such as ladybirds.

Away from the peaceful confines of the shady wood and out onto the wider more open track I was soon distracted by insect activity. There’s not much about at the moment in the way of wildflowers, so what there is is in high demand. Wood Sage is both still flowering and beginning to set seed. The remaining little flowers of the plants close by were being visited by busy little Carder bees.

Common Carder Bee-Bombus pascuorum
Wood Sage

There are a whole host of different bramble species, which is possibly what accounts for them flowering and fruiting at slightly different times; a mercy at this time of year for insects seeking nectar and pollen.

Many bramble bushes are down to their last few flowers and are busy setting fruits. They may not come to much if we don’t get rain to swell them soon.

The enormous bramble here at the side of the track was positively frantic with insects this early afternoon. Hot sunny weather makes capturing images of insects tricky, they zoom around at high speed and bright sunlight reflects off shiny wings, bodies and white flowers. I saw more species here than I could catch, including a Red Admiral, Meadow Brown and Gatekeeper butterflies, Tree and Buff-tailed Bumblebees, Carder Bees and a few hoverflies. I managed to get a snap of a Honeybee, looking rather worn,

Honeybee
Honeybee with torn wings

and an always-impressive Great Pied Hoverfly – Volucella pellucens

Volucella pellucens
Volucella pellucens

I would happily have stayed here for longer, but out in the open it was way too hot to stand in the blazing sun! Moving on along the trail there were very few flowers, some of the last are of Tutsan, but that too is also developing berries.

It’s unusual to see a Meadow Brown butterfly out in the open resting up on a leaf, especially opening up its wings to reveal its upper wings, but I think this one had not long emerged as it was still slightly crumpled. It may well have been a female as males tend to be a darker brown and may not have the orange patch.

It was quite a relief to get back into the shade.

 

Another new, still-crumpled butterfly caught my eye; this one a Large White.

 

 

 

 

 

MEADOW

With no hint of a breeze to stir the air it felt even hotter out in the open meadow. The thin soil was baked hard, the grass browned to a crisp. There are some green stems amongst it; there’s some Knapweed, its few flower buds small and tightly clenched closed.

Goat’s Beard has kept some leaves, and green stems support its lovely big globular seedheads, or clocks. There are tiny yellow dots of a hawkweed/hawkbit in there too.

Goats-beard – Tragopogon pratensis

A lovely big patch of Lady’s Bedstraw grows under a network of collapsed grass stems. It too has retained surprisingly green stems and leaves.

More Meadow Browns were doing what Meadow Browns do – that is flitting about amongst the long grass stems and landing in line with a grass stem that renders them barely visible.

Two very small dark ones were feeding on a single plant of flowering Ragwort.

LOWER HILLSIDE/WOODLAND EDGE 

Too hot to consider hiking over the summit of the hill and down again to make a proper circuit, I got to the bottom of the hill by cutting back into the woods to reach the bottom of the Summit Trail. It was baking hot here too and although this is the cooler North side of the Bryn, it too is largely brown and very dry. I was surprised to spot a bird out here, hopping around in the grass and not too bothered by me watching it. I only saw it from the back, but could tell it was a young Mistle Thrush.

Greenery here is that of brambles, young trees, some grass and another stand of Rosebay Willowherb.

Knapweed is faring better here than in the small meadow and the first of its flowers are opening. Open flowers are sparse though and in high demand. Where 6-spot Burnet Moths lay claim to a flowerhead they settle in for a  good long time and are reluctant to share.

I was here hoping to see a Dark Green Fritillary, but on first sight of the dryness and lack of flowers, didn’t have much hope. Then lo and behold I suddenly spotted a large fast-flying butterfly head for the very Knapweed occupied by a Burnet Moth. It tried to land but the moth denied it access and it shot off again. Fortunately it spotted an unoccupied flower nearby and settled, though only briefly before setting off again.

Dark Green Fritillary – Argynnis aglaja

This part of the hillside, covered with long grass, brambles, gorse and pitted with rabbit holes is definitely off-limits for walking through, so no chasing butterflies! Best to stick to the few narrow tracks and hope something may cross your path. I did get a couple more glimpses of this gorgeous insect, but no more photo opportunities. I’m happy they are there and hope that there is more than one.

Last evening’s weather forecast promised sea mist over the Irish Sea and so it has come to pass. The whole landscape, including the Little Orme was veiled by it. It didn’t seem to being having much effect on the land temperature though.

Large Skipper-Ochlodes venatus

Peering around for the fritillary I did spot some Skipper butterflies. Several Small Skippers living up to their name, skipping  through the grass and a single male Large Skipper that kindly settled momentarily to pose on a grass seedhead.

And more luck as a Ringlet settled on a bramble flower. It didn’t settle for long either as it was dive-bombed by Bumblebees.

Ringlet – Aphantopus hyperantus

Time to get out of the sun. A passing glance at a Hazel tree on the woodland edge revealed a little bunch of ripening nuts, surprisingly not eaten yet by squirrels, and then a lovely fresh-looking Gatekeeper.

Gatekeeper (male)

Back into the meadow on a different track I spotted the silken tent of a Nursery Web Spider, but no sign of its weaver.

Then a tiny flutter of a butterfly; a Brown Argus.

WOODLAND PATH

On my short-cut track back home, the sound of loud screeching drew my attention to a family of Jays up in the treetops; three together. One flew off, so I think it may have been two young ones demanding attention from a parent. One of those left in the tree wasn’t too happy though, you can see it has its crest raised.

Such pretty birds and a good note, albeit a loud one, to end a walk on.

 

 

Going Wild on the Beaches

10 Sunday Jun 2018

Posted by in coastal walks in Wales, coastal wildflowers, Nature of Public Places, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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Rhos-on-Sea

Rhos-on-Sea has a small sandy beach protected from the worst of the elements by the piled stones of the breakwater wall.

Most of the time it’s quiet, with most beach-seekers opting for the bigger expanse of sand further round Colwyn Bay, but it can get busy on warm sunny days as it’s handy for the village cafés, shops and the all-important public loos. It’s popular too with some of the younger local Herring Gulls whilst the grown-ups are otherwise occupied with raising the next generation.

The nearby wooden jetty is a draw for those wanting to try out the gentle sport of ‘crabbing’ too.

But my interest in the beach is with other visitors, the opportunistic wildflowers that grow there, mainly at the back of the sandy beach pressed against the sea wall.

The line of small dinghies lodged haphazardly against the wall don’t get much exercise by the look of things, but they help give the plants a bit more shelter. There’s a nice spread of Wall Barley,

Wall Barley- Hordeum murinum

then more Wall Barley, touches of Dandelion and Groundsel surround a clump of Sweet Alison. This does have origins as a wildflower and it grows wildly around the Mediterranean, but is more familiar to us as a garden edging plant. This one is probably the offspring of such a one that has escaped the formality of a bedding scheme in favour of a wilder life.

There’s more Dandelion, past flowering for now, and a couple of clumps of Curled Dock. This is one of our two most common docks, whose narrower leaves with wavy edges make it distinguishable from the other more familiar Broad-leaved Dock, a much sturdier plant whose leaves we used as kids to alleviate the pain of nettle stings.

Dandelion and Curled Dock-Rumex crispus

Sea Mayweed-Tripleurospermum maritimum

 

There’s some Sea Beet here, but much more further along, so I’ll get back to that. By far the most prolific plant though is Sea Mayweed, which has the odd flower open but although it’s leaves are pretty, it’s not at its best yet.

There’s another Mayweed too, the Pineapple Mayweed, so named because it’s supposed to smell of the fruit when it’s crushed.

Pineapple Mayweed-Matricaria discoidea

More Curled Dock, silvery-grey leaved Fat Hen which is not flowering yet and Shepherd’s Purse with the distinctive heart-shaped seed capsules that give it its common name.

Curled Dock, Fat Hen and Shepherds Purse

And to finish this section a nice group photo featuring most of the aforementioned main characters.

At the far end of the beach, there’s a change in character. The sand thins  gradually petering out, and the now stony ground offers an opportunity for other plant species to stake a claim. I find it amazing that any plant can survive the harsh conditions of any beach, let alone one as exposed and seemingly hostile as this one. Some like the Sea Beet and the Curled Dock are perennials and look tough enough to have staked a permanent claim.  Others appear at first sight to be small and fragile, although looks are often deceptive and some, like this White Clover should surely be somewhere more lush and grassy?

Growing through the clover in my photo above are bits of a plant I like very much, the Buck’s-horn Plantain, named for the shape of its attractive leaves. This one is a toughie, and is found on disturbed ground and on rocky sites mainly near the sea, but it may be pushing its boundaries a bit here.

Bucks-horn Plantain-Plantago coronopus

There’s a sprinkling of Annual Wall Rocket plants

Annual Wall Rocket-

and a straggly looking Cat’s-ear, one of the few hawkbit-hawk’s beard or otherwise dandelion-flowered hawk-something that I think I know.

Cats-ear-Hypochaeris radicata

There’s more ferny-foliaged Sea Mayweed

Sea Mayweed

more Curled Dock

Curled Dock

and another one of my favourite toughies, the pretty Common Mallow.

Common Mallow-Malva

There’s more Wall Barley too.

And some impressive specimens of Sea Beet. I’m surprised this doesn’t get fashionably-foraged for one of our trendier local restaurants – it’s the plant from which our cultivated beets originated, so does have edible roots.

Behind the now empty buildings it grows prolifically.

Speaking of the buildings, I stop and wonder what will happen to them. They are very much a local landmark with an interesting history. An impressive pier once stretched out into the sea from this point and the buildings, including the iconic octagonal one, originally served as a toll both and entrance building for passengers embarking on steamers that docked here. There have been a few subsequent changes of use since the council finally bought the pier and demolished it in 1954. Many people seem to particularly remember the café once located here.The  walls on this beach side also form part of the sea wall, so perhaps partly for that reason their continuing presence was secured last May when it was added to the Grade II list of buildings.

Looking towards the old pier buildings

Leaving the beach there were more little plants to see on the paved areas at the side of the buildings and on the steps leading up to the front of it, so maybe this area is not included on the council’s weed hit list.

Against the pink-painted wall

Sow Thistle, Rocket & Chickweed

and from a crack in the paving

Pineapple Mayweed & Wall Barley

and growing across a drain grille was this White Stonecrop

White Stonecrop

THE PROMENADE

From here I walked back along the Prom; this view is taken looking back  along a section I’d already walked along   

Promenade Rhos on Sea

and this is going forward showing the embankment. Quite unusually I thought, it had been allowed to grow long, so was sprinkled with patches of buttercups, red clover and flowering grasses. It’s uncut state is probably more to do with council budget cuts than as an aid to wildlife. I’m sure it’ll be neatened up before the start of the official High Season.

Buttercups and Plantain

Red Clover

Sweet Vernal Grass
False Oat Grass
Yorkshire Fog
Cock’s-foot Grass

Several plants have colonised the huge piled up rocks that provide extra sea defence, including a Sycamore tree which is currently flowering and  visited by Bumblebees. Despite the sunshine and the flowers on offer, admittedly not a great selection, there were very few insects about. I saw perhaps half a dozen bees and one White sp. butterfly.

Sycamore flowers with Bumblebee

The daisies have been spectacular here this year.

Daisies by the sea

To finish, almost home I spotted another couple of little gems tucked in against walls on the street

Wall Speedwell

and two tiny pink-flowered Cranesbills

Dove’s-foot Cranesbill
Shining Cranesbill

 

 

On a Perfect Spring Day

03 Thursday May 2018

Posted by in birds singing, British hoverflies, Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, Butterflies of Wales, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Wildflowers of Wales, woodland birds, woodland walks, woodland wildflowers

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April 19th – Bryn Euryn

Today was the middle day of the three consecutively warm sunny days that tantalised us with the notion that Spring had truly arrived, and judging by the activity here today it had a lot of our wildlife fooled too. The sky was clear and that almost-unbelievable shade of deep blue, the birds were singing and best of all, it was warm!

WOODLAND PATH

A few metres along the Woodland Path of my patch is an untidy-looking stretch, divided by the narrow path, where missing trees have opened up the canopy, letting in the light and warmth of the sun. Somewhat mysteriously, it holds great allure for diverse species of insects, some of which at certain times can be found here in surprising numbers. At the right time on the right day, ten minutes spent in this  ‘hotspot’ can be as productive as two hours spent ranging over the rest of the site.

11:44 Today I was here at the right time to see a surprising amount of insects. Most prolific were hoverflies in all shapes and sizes from big and bulky to teeny-tiny and dainty.

Eristalis sp hoverfly

Syrphus sp.

There were few flowers here for nectaring upon, so that wasn’t the attraction for the majority of the hoverflies; I caught just one on the tiny flowers of Dog’s mercury. There were dozens of this small black and yellow striped species here, all very fresh and shiny and mostly basking on the sun-warmed leaves of brambles and nettles.

One side of the ‘hotspot’ is open to sunlight, clear of trees but sheltered by those standing behind it and by large shrubs of laurel and holly on either side. A large tangle of bramble fills the gap in the vegetation and is the only barrier between you and the Expressway below at the bottom of an almost-vertical slope. (Only joking, there’d be plenty of trees to stop you if you fell!) On the other side is a large patch of nettles, the aforementioned Dog’s mercury, more bramble and a pretty patch of periwinkle, all growing through a ground-covering of ivy.

Periwinkle
Dog’s Mercury

A lone Tree bumblebee flew in, visited a couple of the periwinkle flowers then stopped to bask on a last-year’s half-eaten bramble leaf. I think it was a male (no pollen baskets) and was looking a bit the worse for wear. He seemed to have a burden of mites and I wondered if exposing them to warm sun might dislodge them. I’ve seen birds do that.

A smaller bee caught my eye as it came to rest on an ivy leaf. I didn’t realise what it was until I saw my photograph, then was excited to see it was a Hairy-footed Flower Bee, this one a male and my first record of this species here.

Hairy-footed Flower Bee – Anthophora plumipes (male)

Hairy-footed Flower Bee (m)-Anthophora plumipes

A species common and widespread in much of England and Wales, especially in towns, cities and villages. Often nests in the soft mortar and exposed cob of old walls, but occasionally will nest in the ground, preferring bare compacted clay soils. Flies from late February to mid-June, and is particularly partial to Lungwort (Pulmonaria) flowers.

Males and females look very different from one another: the female resembles a small, black bumblebee with orange-red hairs on the hind leg and a rapid-darting flight; she’ll  often approach a flower with her long tongue extended. Males are mostly brown with a dark tail (fresh specimens are gingery). Cream markings on face distinguish it from all bumblebees.They are often among the first bees of the year to emerge and often hover in front of flowers and when pursuing females.

Another little bee came to rest on a nettle leaf, this one I recognised as an Ashy mining bee and another male.

Ashy mining bee – Andrena cineraria (male)

Ashy mining bee (m)-Andrena cineraria 

A distinctive and obvious spring-flying solitary bee. Females are black, and have two broad ashy-grey hairbands across the thorax. Males emerge well before the females. They look similar, but their thorax is entirely covered with less dense grey hairs, and there’s a pronounced tuft of white hairs on the lower face. Species has a single flight period each year from early April until early June. Nests are constructed in the ground; entrances are surrounded by a volcano-like mound of excavated spoil; often in dense aggregations in  lawns, flower beds, mown banks and in field margins.

And where there are mining bees there are those who would prey upon them….. Bee-flies: quirkily-cute in appearance but not good to know if you’re a hard-working mining bee; they’ll spy out your nest-hole and craftily kick their eggs inside with those long legs, then later their hatched larvae will feast on yours.

Bee-fly-Bombilius major

Wasps were out on the prowl too; I didn’t get a clear enough image to tell if this was a German or Common Wasp – the latter have a distinctive anchor mark on their face; this image is a bit fuzzy.

12:07 I could have lingered longer, but birds were singing, I’d been serenaded by a Song thrush and a Robin as I stood watching insects, Blue tits twittered on all sides and I was keen to see what else was happening.

Bluebells are beginning to flower and offer nectar to those that can reach it, there’s also Greater Stitchwort and lots of Dog Violets. A male Orange-tip butterfly raced past me over the bluebells and through the trees, clearly on the trail of a female and not stopping for an instant.

Greater Stitchwort – Stellaria holostea

There are masses of glorious glossy golden yellow lesser celandines shining in the sunlight too.

I stopped to admire the celandines lining a section of the path and not at all concerned by my presence, a Blue tit perched above me and began to sing.

Beneath him dozens of shiny new flies arrived to bask on soft sun-warmed new bramble leaves.

There’s one special spot I know where Wood Anemones light up the woodland floor like fallen stars, turning their faces to the sun

and another where those of the shamrock-leaved Wood sorrel shyly hide theirs.

Over the boundary fence, the formidable thorny boundary hedge of gorse and blackthorn is softened now with their fragrant gold and white blossoms.

I heard a bird singing, a short loud burst of notes that I thought at first was a Wren, but it wasn’t quite right. I’d forgotten that another tiny bird, the Goldcrest also has a disproportionately loud song, remembering when he broke cover and flitted about in shrubbery in front of me. He wasn’t going to oblige me with a photograph, much too busy! So I stood gazing upwards for a while – you can’t get too much beautiful blue sky…

… or pretty blossom, can you?

WOODLAND TRAIL

12:58 There’s another hotspot around the junction of my Woodland Path with the reserve’s Woodland Trail, this one for birds. Here there is a territory of both Blackcap and Chiffchaff so there is the possibility of hearing if not seeing both species here. Today I was lucky; I heard the Blackcap’s song as I approached and walking slowly and as quietly as I was able I spotted him. He continued to sing but moved restlessly through the branches as I got nearer then flew off across the other side of the track.

While he sang from behind foliage over there I watched a pretty female Tawny mining bee feast on Blackthorn blossom.

Then the Blackcap came back to where he’d started, so I think perhaps his red-headed mate may be on their nest somewhere close by.

This gorgeous gorse is below his singing tree. It would make a safe place to nest and the flowers would attract insects for dinner.

I had heard a Chiffchaff singing nearby too but was pleasantly surprised when he appeared, continuing his song while flitting about amongst the twiggy branches searching for insects.

13:21 Further along the trail I spotted a flutter of orange – a lovely fresh Comma butterfly  basking on dry leaves at the edge of the path. As I watched it moved, (look away now if you’re squeamish) onto a thankfully dryish dog poo deposit. I had to take the picture as it nicely presented its underside showing off the distinctive white mark for which it is named.

The disturbed ground of the pathsides supports some of the ‘weedier’ wildflowers like dandelions which provide important nectar when there’s not much else in flower.

You’d be very unlucky not to hear and see a Robin singing along here, there seems to be one at regularly spaced intervals. They sit and watch out over the track then dart out to pounce on any potential prey they may spot. This one had been singing but stopped to watch me.

I waited to see if he’d start singing again and was distracted by a bird whistling loudly. I scanned around searching for whatever was making the sound, one I didn’t recognise at all but that sounded to be being made by quite a large bird. After a few minutes the whistler appeared and to my amusement turned out to be …. a Great Tit! Of course it was, one of the basics of birdsong recognition is ‘when you don’t recognise it or haven’t heard it before, chances are it’ll be a Great Tit’; they have an incredible repertoire of sounds to call upon. I was thankful to him for keeping me in that spot though, as this gorgeous Greater Spotted Woodpecker flew onto a tree trunk literally right in front of me.

The Woodpecker stayed there, keeping a watchful eye on me. This bird is a female and is holding something small in her beak, so I imagine she has a nest nearby and was unwilling to reveal it. I moved away quickly, thanking her for the photo opportunity as I did.

Great Spotted Woodpeckers are about the same size as Starlings. Their plumage denotes their age and sex. Juvenile birds have red foreheads that are replaced by black as they moult in the autumn. Adult males then have a red nape while females have no red on their head at all.

 

The Lesser Celandines have been late flowering this Spring but are glorious now and more prolific than I’ve seen them before. It’s not just the flowers that are prolific, so too were hoverflies and Bee-flies seemed to be everywhere.

Approaching the entrance to the meadow another Robin, which looks as though it is singing, but was actually ‘ticking me off’, let me know it didn’t appreciate my disturbing it.

THE UPPER MEADOW (ADDER’S FIELD)

The grass of the meadow was cut back hard last autumn and so far there’s not much happening there yet, but the grass is beginning to grow and the cowslips are starting to come out. They’ll be later on the more exposed ‘downland’ side of the hill.

Another Bee-fly settled on an exposed rock in the pathway, fluttering its wings rapidly and making flicking movements with its legs as they do when depositing their eggs, but there was no sign of a mining bee nest anywhere near, so not sure what it was doing.

Summer Rainfall Prediction:

If oak is out before the ash, there’ll be a splash ; if ash is out before the oak there’ll be a soak…

Keep the brollies handy, looks like ash is furthest on so far….!

Wriggling across the still-damp ground on the way to the Summit Trail was an earthworm. Double jeopardy came to mind – exposure to warm sunshine and hungry birds; foolish worm.

Last year I noticed spots along the trail here where Mining Bees were making nests. having seen a few about today I kept an eye out for more signs of their activity and spotted these little ‘volcanoes’, evidence of their presence. I waited a while but no bees showed, so I don’t know which species had made them, but I think maybe Tawny Mining Bees.

THE SUMMIT

It was cooler and breezier up here. I walked carefully, hoping there may be Small Tortoiseshell butterflies basking on the bare earth of the path, but not today, although I did see two busily chasing one another at speed as they disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

The mountains and the distant Conwy valley were veiled by a misty haze.

The blackthorn is smothered with blossom and looking beautiful. It will be interesting to see how much of it gets pollinated and develops as fruit this autumn. Sloe gin comes to mind.

Blackthorn – Prunus spinosa

The path back down to the Woodland Trail felt almost bridal with falling petals showering down onto the ground like confetti. A pretty way to end this account of a lovely walk.

Little Orme

21 Saturday Apr 2018

Posted by in birds of Wales, birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks in Wales, Industrial sites reclaimed by Nature, Little Orme, Nature of Wales, North Wales, North Wales Path, Wales Coast Path, Walking Trails, Wildflowers of Wales

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April 5th

I’m home for a few days and feel the need to catch up on what’s happening here before setting off again at the weekend. I decided to head for the Little Orme, the best place I know locally to see a great variety of wildlife in a short space of time. Spring is generally late arriving this year and usually comes even later here than to other more sheltered sites, so I hoped I wouldn’t have missed too much.

The blend of habits on this limestone headland make it special, if not unique as it provides for the needs of diverse species of birds from House sparrows to Chough and Fulmars and it supports some lovely lime-loving wildflowers. The human influence on the site is most evident in its dramatic reshaping by quarrying, there is also a farm with some enclosed fields and sheep that are allowed to range freely. Houses butt closely up against its Penrhyn Bay boundary and it is rare to come here and not see people out walking. Today I noticed that someone has hung a bird-feeder up in a small tree just inside the site. There was a Great tit and several House sparrows taking the seed on offer, but not surprisingly they were seen off by Jackdaws.

Great tit at feeder
Jackdaw at feeder

It’s the Easter holidays, so as I’d expected there were a good few people here, families enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, the usual dog-walkers and a few dog-less ones too. 

There were people clambering on the rock beside Angel Bay. Below them a trio of Herring gulls set up a raucous racket. I couldn’t be sure what had set them off, but maybe they were objecting to people invading their space.

On a rock jutting out into Angel Bay another pair sat calmly, heads turned towards the group of grey seals down below them, some of which were also making a bit of noise.

They were a lovely little group of adults with their young ones. Some were trying their best to relax while others were restlessly in and out of the water. At least two more were swimming around out in the bay.

Grey seals

Grey seals slumbering

A single Guillemot was also cruising around on the water but didn’t stay visible for long, soon diving and swimming away underwater hunting fish.

Guillemot

When I first entered the site I was surprised not to see or hear Fulmars on the high cliff that usually has several pairs nesting, or preparing to nest on its ledges by this time. There were one or two flying around the cliffs nearer to the sea though, so I set off up the steep path to the old quarry field to see if there were signs of nesting there.

Fulmars are distinctive in flight holding wings stiff and straight out

I’m sure this upward slope gets steeper each time I climb it! I have to remind myself it wasn’t built for walking up. Back in the days when quarrying was in full swing there were rails from its bottom end up to what was a quarry face; trucks were loaded with stone then lowered down and returned empty using heavy-duty winding gear – the remains of which still stands as a monument to past industry at the top of the track. Care is needed when using this track, it’s slippery when wet and dry, especially going down.

Steep slope of old quarry truck-run

Remains of old quarry truck winding gear

I was pleased to have a few excuses to stop for breath to photograph celandines and primroses nestled down amongst the dead stems of grass and fronds of bracken. There were daisies on the grassy slopes nearer the top, one with a fly sunbathing in its centre.

Lesser celandine-
Primrose-
Daisy with fly
Common daisy-bellis perennis

One of the limestone specialist plants, the Carline thistle still holds it shape perfectly, seedheads still intact, although it is completely dry and colourless.

Phew! Finally at the top. I walked around the cliff edge, not too close as I could see that the winter weather has further eroded away the softer layers of soil and loose stone that covers the bedrock.

Signs of recent erosion

Two Fulmars sat quietly in a sheltered recess in the cliff-face. I’m fairly sure they were a pair as they were sitting close together and occasionally touching one another, I’m loathe to say affectionately, but it did look that way!

Fulmars

Fulmars are noisy birds though and it wasn’t long before something set them off. I imagine their spot is a good one and probably coveted by others, so will take a fair amount of defending.

They have a visitor who clings onto the rock nearby and stays for a while despite being squawked at. Perhaps the noise was by way of a greeting.

I was surprised it managed to cling on with those flat webbed feet. It was a lovely view for me though, they are such pretty gulls to look at. Shame about the raucous voice and the habit of snorting out salt water and other debris down their tubular noses!

Another bird made several close aerial passes but didn’t stop. I left them to it; seems like they’ve got enough to contend with.

I take the ‘short-cut’ scramble up the rocks to reach the higher level of the cliffs: not the recommended route, especially for grandmothers encumbered with cameras in hand that should know better! I got there unscathed though and enjoyed a good view back down onto the quarry from the top.

View down into the former quarry

I was heading for the outcrops of the headland used as nest sites by the Cormorant and Guillemot colonies, although I suspected I may be a bit early. I like the view over to the Great Orme from here; it looks like an island.

TREASURE IN THE GRASS

Although grazed by sheep and rabbits and exposed to the worst of the elements here, wildflowers can be found tucked down in the turf particularly around exposed rock. I spotted this little patch of white flowers, which on closer inspection turned out to be two different species. I couldn’t name either, but very kindly Suzanne posted a comment and suggested the  tiny one with red-tinged fleshy leaves may be Rue-leaved saxifrage and the bigger more droopy one with fine stems as Common Whitlow grass. I will go back and get some better photographs of the little treasures.

180405-LO (76a)

Common Whitlow grass-Erophila verna

I disturbed a flock of Jackdays that had been foraging in the clifftop grass. In my picture the buildings on the top of the hill in the background are on the Great Orme Summit.

Looking over the edge of the cliff for signs of my target birds I saw what I thought were Cormorants until I saw the raised crest of one and realised they were Shags.They were far below me, so the quality of the image is not great, but you can see what they are from it.

There were no signs of either Cormorants or Guillemots on this side of the cliff so I carried on walking towards its other more easily visible side. I hadn’t gone far when I spotted a bird flitting about between rocks near the edge; a handsome male Northern Wheatear. It was slightly below me behind a bit of a ridge, so partly hidden from its view I managed to watch it for some time with out disturbing it.

Northern Wheatear
Northern Wheatear

CORMORANT COLONY

As I’d thought it was a bit early for the Cormorants to have begun nesting, but there were a a few birds hanging around on the cliff.

Two birds higher up on a ledge definitely have their breeding plumage – the white patches on their thighs is clearly visible. They also have white heads which is more unusual amongst the Cormorants we usually see here. They were adopting some strange poses too, but may just have been making the most of a warm spot.

Cormorant or Great Cormorant- Phalocrocorax carbo

I went back down the hill following the paths to complete the circuit of this side of the headland. I realised I hadn’t met a single sheep out on the cliffs when I saw the first ones with lambs still in the field.

The gorse is coming into full golden bloom now and as always I couldn’t resist stopping several times to inhale its gorgeous uplifting scent.

 I heard a Robin singing and did spied him framed by prickly branches.

Picking my way carefully down the rocky slope past the sheep field I heard a Greenfinch singing from within the tangle of shrubby vegetation. Tauntingly close by, I stood and searched for a while but couldn’t pinpoint him. It was good to hear him though; as I said in the most recent post about the Great Orme, Greenfinches are not that common nowadays.

The hawthorn tree that marks the junction of paths going up, down or on towards the Rhiwleddyn Reserve, is still without leaves but green with lichen. It’s a lovely tree, having a perfect full rounded shape and spreading evenly in all directions; unusual here where the hawthorns are mostly forced into some weird and wonderful shapes by exposure to the strong winds.

The slope going down safely negotiated, I walked towards the way out, stopping only to debate whether to walk through the man-made ‘gorge’ that leads through to another way in/out at its far end. It can be a good place to spot Stonechats, which I hadn’t seen today, but there were quite a few big puddles of water and it looked muddy, so I gave it a miss.

Looking down into the ‘gorge’ from the path above, I stopped to listen to a Blackbird singing from a small ash tree growing down there. They have such a wonderful laid-back, tuneful and fluent song that is so easy on the ear.

Several Jackdaws were more intent on foraging for their supper.

A rotund little Dunnock singing his pretty little song from amongst the tangle of bramble stems at the side of the steps finished off my walk perfectly.

Dunnock

Weather: Sunny but cool

Birds: Herring gull; Fulmar; Guillemot; Cormorant; Shag; Carrion crow; Magpie; Wood pigeon; Jackdaw; Blackbird; Robin; Greenfinch (singing); House sparrow; Dunnock; Great tit; Wren; Northern Wheatear

Insects: Very few; too cold for butterflies

Wildflowers: Alexanders; Gorse; Primrose; Common Daisy; Lesser celandine; Carline thistle (dried); Common Whitlow grass

Spring is Coming to the Great Orme – part 2

05 Thursday Apr 2018

Posted by in birds of Wales, birds singing, Great Orme, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Wales Coast Path

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March 28th 2018

16:50 The shop is closed and the day’s last tram has departed, taking most of the late-afternoon visitors to the Summit back down to the town. Outside the wind is still blowing fiercely and although sunny, it felt even colder than it was when I got here. In the wildflower garden I stopped to watch a Pied wagtail scuttling around on the short turf between the flower borders and the path. These skittish little birds are fascinating to watch. Almost perpetually in motion they walk jerkily, craning their necks forward as they scan the ground in front for prey, wagging their long tails constantly. In pursuit of prey they can move at speed, half-running half-flying.

Pied wagtail-Moticilla alba

Pied Wagtails have adopted a wide range of habitats and landscapes as hunting grounds, from urban streets, wastes and car parks to seashores, wilder stream sides and reed beds. Most often seen singly, in the late afternoon the birds gather together, sometimes in their hundreds and fly off as a flock to roost communally. They often choose roosting sites on roofs such as factories, sewage works, hospitals and supermarkets. 

There is often a Pied wagtail up here around the car park area. This tarmacked area is bounded by stone walls with a strip of rough grass left in front of them and I’ve watched them make a circuit here, making a thorough search of the area. I guess that the combination of the nooks and crannies of the wall and the vegetation make it a good hunting ground.

Pied wagtail checking out the car park

16:52 The tide is out and the cloud has lifted above the Snowdonia mountains although a great bank of it still hovers heavily above the peaks.

Puffin Island and Anglesey behind it are visible but obscured by mist. The light and shade on the sea and the cloud make a beautiful sight but it’s too cold and windy to stand and admire it for long.

16:56 Driving up or down here I always have my car window open, partly to enjoy the super-fresh air but also to listen out for bird sounds. That paid off this afternoon as I drove past a hawthorn tree and heard the unmistakable song of a Greenfinch. I was delighted to hear it, particularly as my sightings of these finches have been very sparse in recent years. In fact, the last time I saw one was last year and not too far from here, singing then from the highest point of St Tudno’s Church roof.

Greenfinch-Carduelis chloris – singing

I stopped just past him and took photographs from the car so as not to frighten him away. Then I thought I’d stop further along at the pull-in I stopped at earlier and walk back to attempt to record his performance. Not to be, a Crow had usurped him and now squatted there, feathers blown akimbo by the wind.

The Hawthorn tree the Greenfinch was singing from was the perfect choice for him. Almost completely covered with lichens, it had caught my eye a couple of weeks ago when I’d stopped to check whether it had leaves!

Of course it didn’t, but that’s how green it appeared to be. A closer look revealed the lichen, an almost-perfect match for the green-yellow of a Greenfinch.

In the few minutes I’d been gone my car had been staked and claimed as a look-out by the Herring gull I’d photographed here earlier. OK by me as he hadn’t left any guano behind!

17:05 Further down, opposite the church, another favourite gull perching post was occupied.

I’d past the point where I thought I may have spotted a Meadow pipit or Stonechat, but there was still hope for Chough. Back down on Marine Drive now I slowed to check every black bird I saw, but all were Jackdaws or Carrion crows until suddenly I caught sight of two birds flying towards the sea; definitely Chough. I stopped and got out of the car and was instantly distracted by another bird that flew into view then hovered, braced into the wind high above the turf-covered clifftop. A male Kestrel.

The Kestrel, once known as the Windhover has perfected the art of hovering to the highest degree. They fly into the wind at the same speed as it is blowing them back, thus remaining stationary in relation to the ground, which saves them a great deal of energy.

I had stopped by a feature of the Great Orme I hadn’t noticed until now, probably because I’m usually looking in front of me or out over the clifftops as I’m driving. A sign informs that here is Ffynnon Gaseg, or Mare’s Well in English.

There are many natural springs feeding wells located around the headland, and there is no factual information about this one or why it was so named, but it’s thought likely that it was created when Marine Drive was constructed as a drinking place for the horses that pulled the carriages of Victorian sightseers for whom the road was originally built. The blackness  of the rock where the water emerges is staining from the peaty ground it runs through.

As I turned back towards my car I spotted the black birds again so crossed the road to try to get a better view just in time to see them fly down and along over the sea. Definitely Chough and though not the sighting I’d hoped for, a sighting none-the-less.

I made a stop to photograph the former Lighthouse as it was nicely lit by the sun. It’s surprising how the light affects the ‘mood’ of a building; this one can look rather intimidating on a gloomy day.

17:25 The clouds had lifted or perhaps drifted a little further over the mountains now revealing the snow that covered the highest peaks. Hardly surprising it felt so cold.

I’m looking forward to watching the seasons develop here Wednesday by Wednesday.

Spring is Coming to the Great Orme

30 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in birdwatching on North Wales coast, Great Orme, Llandudno, Nature of Wales, North Wales, North Wales Path, North Wales Wildlife Trust

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Wednesday March 28th

An early Easter and school holidays and the Great Orme Summit is fully open for business, including our NWWT shop, so all volunteers called back to action. I’m sticking with my Wednesday shift and was really looking forward to seeing what was happening in the wild world of the headland. I left deliberately early so I could take my time driving up along the scenic Marine Drive route and make a few stops along the way. The afternoon was bright and sunny but chilled, as it frequently is by a cold wind that ruffled the surface of the sea. Despite that there are plenty of signs that Spring won’t be put off any longer.

Just a short way in to my drive I spotted five goats strung out along a narrow ledge high up on the cliff. Too high to see properly from the car I stopped and got out: they looked even higher up from where I stood. Their agility and balance is breathtaking; I couldn’t imagine how they were going to get down, or back up from there but I’m sure they did.

 

The leader looks  like a Nanny that has given birth fairly recently and the one behind is small, so maybe this was a lesson in advanced foraging.

Watching the goats I heard the unmistakable calls of Fulmars and followed the sounds to where there were several sitting on the ledges where they will nest. The massive bulk of the cliff emphasised how small and fragile the birds are. If they didn’t draw attention to themselves with their loud cries you’d be hard pressed to spot them.

Spot the Fulmars!

One or two were flying back and forth from the ledges. They are distinctive in flight, holding their wings outstretched stiffly.

Fulmars weren’t the only noisy birds in the vicinity – from the other side of the sea wall I heard the calls of Oystercatchers. The tide was beginning to go out and had exposed a strip of the rocky shore far below but it wasn’t until a bird flew in to join those already there that I spotted them. They’re surprisingly well camouflaged despite those bright bills and legs.

1243 – Driving on another gull caught my eye; a Herring gull. It’s good to see them in a more natural setting away from roofs and chimney pots.

This view shows clearly the line of the road ahead that continues around the point of the headland and back down to West Shore and Llandudno town. The road to the summit forks off to pass the buildings you can see in the middle of the photograph and St Tudno’s Church which is in the top left corner.

Passing the church I carried on, stopping at the pull-in parking area down below the cable car station, hoping to catch sight of a Stonechat or maybe a displaying Meadow Pipit amongst the gorse bushes. Two rabbits were out in the sunshine, one was grazing busily and the other, a much bigger one lay down to soak up the sun. I’m sure this wasn’t a true wild rabbit. It was big and white underneath, so may have been an escaped pet or at least was in some way related to one.

A man with two free-running dogs approached startling them and Big Bunny sat up quickly before they both shot for cover.

Big Bunny

A pair of smart Magpies flew in and perched jauntily on a bramble bush behind where the rabbits had been. There are often one or two to be seen around the area of the church.

Two for joy

One of them left the bush to pick up stems of dried grass, so likely they have a nest nearby.

There were no smaller birds that I could see so I crossed the road to the cliff side where there is more Gorse to give them cover. I could hear birds singing but couldn’t see any, they were probably sensibly staying out of the wind. I did catch sight of a singing Dunnock, but he too stayed on the leeward side of an Elder tree, well concealed behind its dense twigs. Nice to see signs of new leaves on the tree.

Dunnock on Elder

The grass here is thick and dense and forms hummocks that catch the light. Walking on it feels very strange, it’s soft and spongy and bouncy underfoot. I like the way the sunlight catches it.

Sheep must find it comfortable to lie on. I came upon these ladies-in-waiting lying in a sheltered spot. They all had large blue patches painted on their backs and looked as though their lambs’ arrival may be imminent. They may have been marked this way as their lambs will arrive around the same time and the farmer can easily pick them out and be prepared.

One of my favourite Spring sights is of golden gorse against a background of blue sea. Today was perfect for such a sight with the sea perfectly reflecting the colour of the sky.

Huge banks of towering fluffy clouds brought drama to the scene.

The Gorse as always smelled wonderful. I liked the way the rounded hilltop and the cloud echoed the shape of this blossom covered bush.

Returning to my car a Herring gull had taken up position on the sign board – this is a regular perching place where they wait in hope of scraps of food being left for them.

No signs of the Stonechats or Meadow Pipits I was hoping to see. It was good to see the Trams back in action at the Half-way Station. No 7 is waiting to pick up passengers that will de-board No 6 that will bring them from the Summit Station to here, then will take them down to the bottom.

Almost at the top I couldn’t resist another stop to watch Jackdaws that were strutting around near the edge of the road, busily collecting dry grass.

This one seemed intent on making as few trips as possible back and forth to the nest, cramming in an impressive amount before flying off.

Parking at the top a Herring gull came in to land in front of me and began posturing and squawking at the top of its voice.

It was calling to its mate who duly landed close by its side, squawking in response.

Don’t they make a handsome couple?

The view across the bay and the Conwy Estuary was stunning as always with more dramatic clouds casting shade to make patterns on the surface of the sea.

A quick look down from the other side of the car park over the farmland dotted with sheep…..

I zoomed in to see if there were any lambs yet. None to see, but I did spy the Magpies again.

It was really cold and windy up here. Anticipated trade in our best-selling woolly hats and gloves!

 

Snow Scenic By Train

21 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Nature of Wales, North Wales

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Thursday, March 1st 2018

The first day of meteorological spring, but with temperatures falling as low as -11C (12F) in parts of the UK, winter was not giving up easily. Now we had another storm rolling in from the Atlantic, Storm Emma, which joined forces with the ‘Beast from the East’ from Siberia to bring about further widespread snowfall and temperatures that dropped as low as -16C (3F) last night. Fortunately for us here on this North-East stretch of the coast of Wales we were not as badly hit as much of the rest of Britain, but those of us that live up here had a family ‘do’ planned in London tomorrow that we didn’t want to miss. The plan had been to drive down there today, but reports of just how bad the weather and road conditions were in the Midlands caused a rethink and we decided to take the train instead.

Friday, March 2nd 2018

I travel this route every few weeks to visit family, so not an ‘everyday trail’ it’s a fairly frequent increasingly familiar one, but seen through the seasons, I never tire of the amazing scenery along the way. Beginning on the north-east coast of Wales across and travelling down through the West Midlands to the south-east of England, the railway slices through no less than 10 counties, so I anticipated this journey would be a great opportunity to see the pattern of snow cross-country between here and there. It was bitterly cold with a strong wind blowing in off the sea this morning, but we’d had no further overnight snow here, so everything crossed we set off to nearby Colwyn Bay railway station to catch the 09.47 Virgin Holyhead to London direct train. It was on perfect time.

0948-Porth Eirias

The train we would be boarding had started at Holyhead in the north of Anglesey, crossed the Menai Strait into Gwynedd (formerly Caernarvonshire) then into Conwy County where we got on at Colwyn Bay station.  For the next forty minutes or so the railway line sticks closely to the coastline and unfolds not only glorious scenery but also presents a picture of the wider geography and gives glimpses of several significant landmarks. Minutes after leaving the station we were passing our newest landmark building, Porth Eirias on Colwyn Bay. The tide was high, the sea rushing in wildly  and despite the proximity of all that salt, snow coated the Promenade and grass verges.

View to the Little Orme from the Viaduct

A bit further on waves were crashing over the sea wall, flooding the Promenade and the road alongside. This stretch of road will probably be closed off if it hasn’t been already – the sea spray often holds stones & pebbles delivered at force that could easily break a windscreen or cause injury to a person!

Stormy Irish Sea splashing over the wall

Ten minutes later we’re approaching Rhyl, crossing over the river/afon Clwyd in full flood. This tidal river flows mainly through Denbighshire and forms the border between Denbighshire and Conwy County here at its mouth.

River/afon Clwyd flows into the Irish Sea at Rhyl

Next to the mouth of the river is Marine Lake, a 12 hectare man-made recreational lake. This is the only salt water lake in North Wales.

Snow surrounds Marine Lake, Rhyl

We stop at Rhyl station, then six minutes later we are passing the dunes at Talacre, an important ecological area for a number of reason, not least of which is for its protected population of Natterjack Toads. They also serve as protection for a colony of not-so-rare holiday homes. There is still only a light covering of snow.

Taking photographs through the window of a moving train is a hit-and-miss affair. No time for focusing, just point, shoot and hope for the best! I rather like the effect of this view through a tree  which wouldn’t be a view at all when it has leaves. You may have noticed I leave marks & highlights on or caused by reflections from the glass of the carriage windows: this is deliberate as a reminder that I was on a train!

We stop again at Prestatyn then cross into Flintshire and pass the alien-looking Point of Ayr Gas Terminal.

Still following the coastline the next stop is the county town of Flint.

Here is the wild, flat coastline of the Dee Estuary, where receding tides expose vast mud flats that attract huge numbers of wading birds. Not exactly a place you’d expect to see a beached ship! Undoubtedly the most curious local landmark this is the Duke of Lancaster, at Llanerch-y-Mor on the River Dee, near Mostyn Docks. It has been re-purposed several times since it ‘landed’ here in 1979, but has been abandoned long since.  

The dry powdery snow didn’t settle as a uniform blanket like wetter snow does. It settled into hollows and against furrows and ridges and was caught in drifts along hedges and banks accentuating every contour of the landscape. Usually full of birds, there wasn’t a single one to be seen today, hardly surprising!

Sheep, looking a rather grubby white against the brilliance of the snow were doing their best to graze on the snow-covered salt-marshes. The raised bank between the sea and the sheep field gives some protection and is also the line of the Wales Coast Path.

Sheep on snow-covered salt-marshes

At Connah’s Key there are two power stations – I think this is the Deeside Power Station as the other one only has four chimneys. Don’t take that as gospel though, my sense of what’s north and south is not always reliable, especially when travelling at speed.

Another iconic landmark is the Flintshire Bridge, it is the largest asymmetric cable-stayed bridge in the whole of Britain and when seen properly is elegant and impressive, not at all like my hasty photograph. The bridge spans the Dee Estuary, linking Flint and Connah’s Quay to the shore north of the River Dee at the southern end of the Wirral Peninsula. It carries part of the A548 road and is known locally as ‘the bridge to nowhere’. 

At 10.30 we were at Chester. This is a lovely old station with some fascinating features, but today for some reason I was drawn to photograph the old iconic red phone box. A lot of people got on here, so we probably weren’t the only ones not wanting to risk the drive. Some would be leaving the train at Crewe, a major hub station, to get connections to Manchester and other parts of the country.

1030-Chester Station

As you will have worked out, we were now in England and already in county number 4, Cheshire of course as we’d just left Chester and travelling towards Crewe. Not so much snow here, just a light scattering but enough to highlight the textures and patterns of the fields.

10:41 – Cheshire

From here on there are some great views of sections of our nationwide network of canals, in parts paralleled along their route by the railway line. It gets a bit confusing up here as there are several waterways that join into one another, but I think this is probably part of the Shropshire Union Canal that runs between Chester and Crewe. Still not a lot of snow evident, but the surface of the water is clearly frozen.

Frozen canal

10:54 – We arrived at Crewe station where a lot of people did indeed ‘de-board’.

10:59 – Cheshire

From Crewe the train doesn’t stop again until we get to Milton Keynes, so I’m not altogether sure which way we went, but possibly towards Stafford, which is straight down going directly south. From there the line goes off at what looks like a 45° angle in a straight line directly to London. There are other permutations, but all end up in the same place and we pass through county number 5 – Staffordshire.

11:04 – More frozen water

I have noticed this yellow brick building almost every time I travel this way and I’d love to know what it is! I thought it might be a crematorium as it has that really tall chimney, but this is the best photograph I’ve managed and it clearly isn’t. It has that odd bunker-looking building on this side of it and the plain white van has some kind of aerial on top of it, so I’m more intrigued than ever now. If anyone knows or has a clue, please let me know!

11:05 – Mystery building

Now in the West Midlands it became clear we’d made a sensible decision in deciding not to drive. There was a significant amount more snow and cloudy skies warned more was imminent.

The next county, number 6, is Warwickshire, where we pass through Rugby station.

11:12 – Reed-fringed pond frozen around the edges

Then we cut across the south-west corner of Northamptonshire,county number 7, the county in which I was born and grew up. More canal views here – now the Grand Union Canal and I believe we pass close by Stoke Bruerne, home of the Canal Museum. Barges weren’t moving, probably frozen in place!

11:15 – Barges frozen in place

11:54 – It’s snowing

Another canal view.

11:55- Barge on canal in the snow

From Northamptonshire we cross into Buckinghamshire, county number 8 and one of the five Home Counties that surround Greater London.

Approaching Milton Keynes you see can a church tower on the horizon. I’ve no idea where it is, but it’s big and I wonder if it could be the cathedral-like St Paul’s Church at Bedford.

12:00 – Big church on the horizon

12:03 – We arrive at Milton Keynes, the final stop before London Euston station. An announcement informs us we are 12 minutes behind schedule.

It was snowing heavily now and there wasn’t much to see as the weather closed in and obliterated much of the landscape, so no more photographs today. Parts of the remaining 40 minute journey are usually scenic – from Buckinghamshire we cross briefly into another of the home counties, Hertfordshire, county number 9, and pick up the Grand Union Canal again, passing through the towns of  Berkhamsted and Hemel Hempstead. Then we are soon into Greater London, county number 10, passing by the iconic Wembley Stadium shortly before arriving safely and not too far off schedule into London Euston station. 

From here I was on my own to make my way across town to Surrey in the south-west. We’d already been warned that train services in that direction had been affected by snow and stormy weather, and indeed arriving via the Underground at Vauxhall to pick up the overground train to Surbiton, I saw several trains were delayed or cancelled. Buying my ticket I was told the station would close at 8pm tonight! It was freezing cold here and snowing, but lucky for me, I got more or less straight onto a train that had been delayed by 20 minutes and reached my destination in good time. Later on in the day many people were stranded in the City or had to find other ways home.

Thanks be to the Travel Gods!

Following a river to a Fairy Glen

15 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Fairy Glen, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Wales, North Wales Path, Old Colwyn, Rivers of Wales

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The myriad of little rivers and streams that run from our mountains and hills come alive following prolonged rainfall or when filled with melted snow. Many of them are inaccessible and flow through privately owned land, so we are privileged here to be able to enjoy close access to the sights and sounds of one such waterway: the river that flows through the village of Old Colwyn and ends at Colwyn Bay, both of which take its name – the river or in Welsh afon, Colwyn.

This walk follows a length of the river Colwyn upstream from where it reaches the sea  at Colwyn Bay at the end of the Promenade, takes the scenic route through the oldest part of the village of Old Colwyn then continues to the far end of the wooded dingle of Fairy Glen and back again. It’s not a long walk and mostly fairly easy going. It follows a section of the North Wales Path and is also part of the Old Colwyn Heritage Trail so combines a bit of local history with nature and wildlife, which ticks all of the boxes for the perfect winter walk for me. 

Splash Point of the river Colwyn into Colwyn Bay. Snow-capped Clwyddian Mountains on the far horizon.

The last few metres of the river’s length are contained and manipulated by stone and concrete to direct its waters under roads, bridges and the viaduct, then finally a culvert beneath the Promenade channels it to its end at a Splash Point from where it cascades into the sea.

The viaduct was built in 1847 as part of the Chester-Holyhead railway line engineered by Robert Louis Stephenson. The bridge behind it carries the A55 North Wales Expressway

Beneath the viaduct, know locally as ‘The Arches’, the surface of the water is textured as it rushes over its stony bed and its sound amplified by the stone walls that contain it, still audible above the noise of traffic and the occasional train passing overhead.

Once beneath the bridges and on the path past Myn y Coed woodland calm is restored and the sounds of the river and birds singing fill the air.

I stopped on the footbridge to listen and to check for Grey Wagtails that sometimes hunt along this stretch of the river; none here today but I know they have other favoured spots.

upstream from the footbridge at Myn y Coed

The path upstream curves around the corner to run parallel to Beach Road, passing in front of the building that was once the Coachhouse to the Myn y Don Mansion. The river races down the slope here, carrying with it bits of shrubbery from somewhere along its path.

Lovely to see a few Spring wildflowers here.

Near the beginning of Tan y Bryn Gardens is a weir with blocks of stone either side that look as though they may once perhaps have had sluice gates?

There’s an interesting variety of native and more exotic trees here with an under-storey of shrubs and plants that is perfect for birds. Today Blackbirds seemed to be everywhere, singing from variously elevated spots or rummaging around in leaf litter. There were at least three males in close proximity to one another, resulting in much chasing. The one in my photograph had been singing until I arrived and put him off his stroke.

Carrying on through the gardens there were robins singing from several spots too and I finally caught one in action.

Almost at the end of the Garden path I was thinking I still hadn’t seen a Grey wagtail and that sometimes I’ve had better luck seeing them hunting on the nearby rooftops… then a bird skimmed past just over my head making that familiar rattling call. A wagtail that, lo and behold, carried on over the water to the very rooftops I was standing looking at. Although some distance away, it was a lovely colourful one with bright yellow breast and rump, that stood out nicely against the blue-grey slates and patches of lichen.

I had reached the tunnels beneath the buildings that allow people and the river to pass through them.

The tunnel is short, lit artificially and its walls are decorated with colourful professional-looking graffiti. It’s not my favourite part of the walk though, especially when as today it was littered with rubbish and doggy deposits. Such a shame as the path to here was spotless.

I usually walk through here at speed, admiring the wall art out of the side of my eye as I pass it, but today I stopped to photograph my favourite part of it. It depicts the buildings above where they front onto Abergele Road, harking back to the days when the tram was running. Next to that image is one of the viaduct before it was obscured by the Expressway bridge.

At the other end of the tunnel a sign indicates the way back to the beach and the North Wales Path logos are beneath it.

The path stays by the river through this attractive little area, named Llawr Pentre which is the oldest part of the village, then leaves it for a short while as you take the steps you find on your left. At the top follow the signs that point right to Fairy Glen and the North Wales Path.

FAIRY GLEN

The Local Nature Reserve of Fairy Glen in Old Colwyn is one of several places locally known as ‘dingles’. Dingle is a charming and evocative noun used to describe a small, narrow or enclosed, usually wooded valley or a deep hollow or dell. Fairy Glen was once more manicured and a much favoured place for holidaying Victorians to take in the fresh air on a leisurely riverside stroll. Today the pathway is on the route of the North Wales Path, but is mostly used locally as a shortcut to the village centre or by folks walking their dogs. It may not appear as groomed as it once did, but this fragment of a once-extensive ancient woodland is cared for and appreciated and it provides a habitat for a good variety of wildlife, particularly woodland birds. There are some lovely big old trees and shrubs here, but the greatest draw and asset for wildlife is surely the fresh clean accessible water. 

At the base of a tree I found golden-yellow Lesser celandines, some of them already ‘going over’.

Most of the length of the path is fenced allowing flora and fauna to remain undisturbed. The fence rails are a great place to spot birds too; many use it as a perch and some as a place to forage for insects amongst the ivy.

There were a number of Blue tits foraging in the trees around and overhead me and I heard Great tits singing. The songs of Robins rang out at regular intervals, each one pausing occasionally to listen to others nearby then responding. I always thought that this might have been why the ’round Robin’ style of singing we learnt at school was so-named, but apparently not – it relates to much more boring things like circularised documents. I prefer my own version! There were Blackbirds all over the place here too. This one took to the fence while I passed but soon resumed his hunt for worms in the leaf litter below.

Wild garlic is growing fast and the warm sunshine was already drawing out its distinctive aroma.

The damp shady conditions here are perfect for ferns.

I had a lovely close encounter with a small flock of charming Long-tailed tits.

Rainwater channels into the river at this weir adding to its volume creating a considerable foamy ‘race’ down its length.

This stand of tall old pine trees is a good spot to look out for Coal tits; I’ve seen them here on several occasions, but not today.

At the base of tree a collection of new Spring greenery of varying shades and leaf forms; ferny Cow parsley, elegant Arum and the round leaves of some pervading Winter heliotrope which seems to be popping up all over the place lately. There are also a few leaves of Nettle and the ubiquitous Ivy.

The path through the Glen ends at Pen y Bryn Road. As at the beginning of the path at Myn y Don there is a plaque commemorating a local man named Cliff Proust who did a tremendous amount of work improving the public local green spaces on behalf of this community. The world needs more Cliff Prousts – he did a great job.

THE WAY BACK

There’s much to be said for a circular walk, but I find it can be just as interesting to go back the way I came. I often see things I missed on the way through being distracted by something I spot; the perspective is different, the light is different and of course the time is different. I tend to ‘save’ things that aren’t likely to move for a closer look on the way back too, such as these trees. I liked the contrast of shapes and shades of the evergreens seen through the more delicate catkin laden Hazel in the foreground and all set off beautifully by that beautiful deep blue winter sky.

I met the Blackbird again, still hunting worms successfully, he’d just swallowed one as I took his picture.

I had a closer look at this felled tree which I think from the bark may be a Sweet chestnut. It’s wood has been left to integrate into the fabric of the woodland floor to provide habitat for invertebrates etc. I hope it gets left alone and is not purloined by someone with a wood-burner to feed.

This was a huge tree, a section of its trunk would easily make a small dining table.

A flowering Dandelion and more shoots of Wild garlic.

This enormous Oak tree near the entrance/exit to the Glen fascinates me. It has stabilised itself in an almost-perpendicular position with a complex network of roots that are as thick and sturdy as branches, right on the edge of a steep bank. Beneath it are hollows you can see straight through. Perhaps this is where the fairies live.  

A last look at another stand of elegant, pale-barked trees whose top branches turned silver in the sunlight.

And then the river on its way out of the Glen.

Leaving the Glen and walking back past the cottages I stopped to watch Jackdaws  gathered on the chimney pots. I’m not sure what they were doing, possibly checking for any insects or spiders that may have been hiding in them, or maybe prospecting for nest sites; whatever they were doing they were disappearing right into them.

 

Back in the Gardens I stopped to admire  the flowers; clumps of snowdrops, daffodils and a stunning display of richly coloured hellebores all enjoying the sunshine. No insects yet  though.


I couldn’t resist taking this shot of a perfectly matched couple walking hand in hand ahead of me. I hope they don’t mind.

The view towards the end of the gardens with the Coachman’s cottage in the bottom left corner.

All overlooked by the tower of the Folly up on the hill.

I am ever in awe at the size of some of the pine trees that grow here

so I was sad to see that the foliage of one of them looks has turned brown as though it may be dead.

A Robin checked out a dramatic dried seed head

while a Wood pigeon investigated a mossy rooftop.

Then to finish, a promise of imminent Spring: a Wild Cherry tree with new green leaves and blossom buds about to burst.

 

Winter Promenades

22 Monday Jan 2018

Posted by in birds of the seashore, birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks in Wales, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Rhos Point, Wales Coast Path

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January 2nd 2018 

The Promenade runs unbroken from Old Colwyn at one end to Penrhyn Bay at the other, following the contours of Colwyn Bay, Rhos Point and the seashore of the aforementioned Penrhyn Bay. It is well-used, particularly so in the warmer seasons and weekends, but also on sunny days throughtout the year; it’s also a part of the Wales Coast Path and is both a walking and a cycling route. The section I walk most often these days starts close to the tiny St.Trillo’s chapel, passes Rhos Point and continues into Rhos on Sea village.

St Trillo’s Chapel, Rhos-on-Sea

This strip of coastline is fascinating. The Promenade and the busy road that runs alongside it form a corridor between land claimed for human habitation, travel and recreation and a rugged seashore and mussel bed, regularly washed over by the Irish Sea, that provides for a variety of species of wildlife, including large numbers of over-wintering wading birds. There is also an interesting ‘cross-over’ by some birds that have learnt to utilise the opportunities offered on both sides of the corridor.

This morning I’d visited my daughter & grandchildren who live just a couple of hundred metres from the Prom and I thought while I was this close I’d check up quickly on a very special winter visitor – a Purple Sandpiper. I knew there was one here as I’d found it in the same spot on the rocks frequented by one lone individual last winter. (I posted about it earlier last year as The Lonely Purple Sandpiper.) The times whilst the tide is high and for a short while as it begins to go out again are the best times to get close-up views of them.

23/12/17-1432-Purple sandpiper

Walking down the slope near the chapel I couldn’t fail to notice a huge photographic lens fitted to a camera on a tripod angled down onto the rocks below, with a man standing behind it. I guessed all would be aimed at the Purple sandpiper, and so it was, but rather than there being the one bird I’d expected to see, there were six. Four were out in the open, tucked up and fast asleep, but the photographer said there were at least two more a bit lower down behind rocks. These lovely little winter visitors are famous and people travel here from miles around in hope of seeing them. This guy had come from Wigan and here on his third visit in recent weeks to attempt to see them. There was no way he was leaving until he’d got shots of them doing something more interesting. He  was also willing the sun to come out to light them up better against the dark rocks. You really do have to catch these birds at high tide when they rest up on the rocks of the rip-rap, as once the tide goes out, so do they and you’ve lost them.

2/01/18-1105-Rhos Point-Purple Sandpipers

Great Crested Grebes regularly cruise the bay and there was one out there now. Although not appearing to be travelling at speed, they are tricky to catch an image of; you just get them in focus and they dive. I get a lot of images of  empty sea. They can travel good distances underwater in pursuit of fish so you can’t predict where they’ll pop up again.

Following last night’s Super Moon, there was a Spring Tide this morning, at its highest at 10:40am (the Spring Tides are the highest ones). It was windy here as it is at most high tides, but not blowing in across the sea, so its surface was barely rippled. At just past 12 noon, the water was beginning to recede but it would be a while before the sandpipers responded and became active; they’re used to arctic conditons, but it was way too cold for me to stand still. I wondered about the lone bird I’d seen before Christmas. Was it now part of this little group? Surely it was, but I walked the short distance along to where I’d seen it before to make certain. No sign of it, but I did see the biggest jellyfish I’ve ever seen stranded on top of a rock by the tide. It looked a bit battered but don’t know how you tell a live one from a dead one when they’re out of the water.

I walked as far as the steep concrete steps that go down to the shore that are becoming increasingly smoother and their edges more rounded year on year. They were wet right to the top showing how high the water level must have reached earlier on.

Now I’d seen the Sandpipers and knowing I could come back and see them again I thought I’d get into my car out of the cold and go home. But then there might be more to see, I was here now and at least it wasn’t raining like it was yesterday. I also had the luxury of being able to walk here without a grandchild in a pram as I often do, so could stop as often as I liked without protest from a little companion. I walked on towards the village.

It’s not only birds that have ‘crossed-over’ to the wild side of the road. The huge, predominantly limestone rocks of the rip-rap support an increasing variety of plants too. They are mostly garden escapes such as buddleiah and michaelmas daisies and just past the chapel is a bushy shrub. This established bush is sometimes full of one of the local House sparrow tribes adding their cheerful chirping to the more expected sounds of the seashore. There are often House sparrows foraging amongst the rocks of the seashore, especially when they’re nesting and have young to feed. They come after it’s rained too, to drink from small pools of fresh water briefly held by the limestone rip rap.

1/10/17-Rhos Point-A bush full of House sparrows

The bush has shed its leaves now and there were no sparrows today. Someone has put up a bird feeder filled with nuts, maybe for them or maybe for the Robin that is also often around here.

The sea had begun to recede here on the Point, so I began to walk down the  ramp to see if any birds had arrived to forage in its wake and was surprised by a Dunnock that popped out from the base of the bush.

2/1/18-1218-Rhos Point-Dunnock

It moved back down to the rocks beneath

and was joined by a Robin.

The big patch of Winter Heliotrope on the grassy embankment is flowering prolifically now as it has been since last December. This is another plant that started out as a garden plant that escaped and is now also accepted as a wildflower. It’s widespread around the village but this location, facing straight out to sea is not its usual habitat; it’s supposed to go for damp shady places, often under trees. It is thriving here though, this patch is now huge. It’s perhaps not the most beautiful of plants, but it’s a joy to see anything in flower at this time of year and the flowers have a delicious scent, heliotrope is widely used in the perfume industry, but you have to get down to their level to check that out!

Winter heliotrope –  

Round about this spot I’d seen a little party of Ringed Plovers on Christmas Eve, when walking into the village with my own family party. There’d been a group of about 15 gathered on the rocks waiting for the tide to turn (birds that is, not family members). No sign of them now, so this is an image I got that day.

24/12/17-Rhos Point-Ringed Plovers

There was a single Dunlin there then too, resting with its head tucked under its wing just peeping out to check it was safe to carry on napping.

24/12/17-Rhos Point-Dunlin

Reaching the harbour the calm appearance of the sea belied the fact that it was actually quite windy and with no sunshine still really cold, not a day for sustained birdwatching from one spot. I loved the view though in these misty muted winter shades.

The harbour wall provides the perfect place for birds the sit out the high tides to wait close by for that magical moment when as it recedes it reaches the perfect point for them to make the short flight back to the shore. There are always oystercatchers and often gulls and a crow or two. A couple seeking shelter from the biting cold against a wall were viewing it with binoculars; they’d seen Ringed Plovers there too. At the far end sat a group of Cormorants; in my photograph you can see Colwyn Bay’s sadly dilapidated Victoria Pier behind them.

Across the road is the park which has a children’s play area, a good old-fashioned paddling pool, empty now of course and open grassy areas that is currently wet and muddy, perfect for blackbirds, thrushes and starlings digging for worms. Here with my slightly bigger granddaughter a few days ago there were two Mistle thrushes in addition to today’s blackbirds and starlings.

Starling – juvenile

I watched a Black-headed gull, its head is just beginning to show the beginnings of darkening to the chocolate-brown of the birds breeding plumage. It too was digging successfully for worms in the soft mud. I like these neat little gulls with their red bills and legs.

Black-headed gull

Heading back down the slope to walk back I was pleased to see a rock Pipit hopping and flitting between the rocks and the Prom edge before disappearing into plants on the grassy embankment

2/1/18-Rock Pipit

A Robin popped up too – maybe the one I’d seen earlier further along by the bush. He/she was quite likely warning off the Rock Pipit.

2/1/18-Rhos Point-Robin

Daisies are flowering, only a few bravely showing their faces, but a reminder that despite their dainty fragile looks they are as tough as old boots!

2/1/18-Rhos Point-Daisy

Canny Crows are frequent visitors to the rocky shore and search amongst the rocks for anything edible from scraps of left-over food left by visitors to accessible shellfish.

This one had found the remains of a sizeable crab and that look in its eye says it wasn’t about to share it!

The tide was a little further out now and oystercatchers were beginning to arrive back. They didn’t begin foraging though, instead they quickly settled and resumed their rests.

The two in the pictures below have pointed beaks so would probably be waiting for the softer ground to be revealed in which they probe for their food. Those that hammer away at shellfish have bills that are blunter and more squared off.

The people with the binoculars told me they’d come down here via Penrhyn Bay where it was apparently even colder than here. They reported seeing a Grey plover there on one of the breakwaters, so I decided to go that way home and stop and have a look. I didn’t hold out much hope of seeing anything without binoculars and had no idea which breakwater it might have been on either. It was definitely colder here, and I was not going to hang about, but I was really pleased to discover that this is where the Redshanks come to roost between tides! I’ve often wondered where they go and here they were; dozens of them tucked up in the shelter of the rocks.

Seeing the Redshanks still waiting for the signal to make their move back to the Point made me hope that Curlews would also be in the field they frequent when not on the seashore. They were! And they come with the added bonus that you can stop on the roadside and watch them from inside your car. The brambly hedge on the field boundary gets in the way of the camera lens somewhat, and they were a distance away, but in this setting they are a wonderful sight.

 

Curlew bathing