Eccleston Mere

Pink-footed Goose 21 over SE then N
Teal 4

Pink-feet have been late arriving this autumn, with only 16 at Martin Mere last Saturday. These were my first in St Helens this winter.

Kirkby Moss

Garganey 1
Gadwall 5

Thanks to Andy for this.

Rainford Mosslands

Still 100 Curlew in fields at Old House Farm, Old Coach Road.

St Helens Cricket Club

70 Barnacle Geese flew over at 9:30. This is a typical time of year for these feral birds to be moving around the area. They were probably moving from Carr Mill Dam to Eccleston mere / Prescot Reservoirs. I didn't notice the Red-breasted Goose with them, though it probably was.

Rainford Mosslands

Fairly quiet this evening. Highlights were 13 Snipe flying over Dairy Farm Road and then landing in the middle of a corn field (presumably there was a puddle in there somewhere!), and at least 80 Curlew still in fields alongside Old Hall Farm, at the junction of Dairy Farm Road and the Old Coach Road. No sign of any geese yet.

Sankey Valley, Penkford

Buzzard 4
Sparrowhawk 1
Teal 2

Butterflies: Holly Blue 1

Back on-line!

Welcome to my new Birding in St Helens blog! On this site I'll be keeping you updated on any birds I see in St Helens, plus a few trips further afield. I'll try to post as many photos as possible, but I usually don't take great bird photos.

What a week it's been in St Helens! On Thursday 4th September we had a the boroughs first ever Grey Phalarope at Prescot Reservoirs, following the first Red-necked Phalarope at the same site last year. Now if we could just find a Wilson's we could complete the set! The Grey stayed until at least Saturday, along with an adult Black-necked Grebe.

On the way home from watching the Phalarope on Friday, I called in at Eccelston Mere, to find a stunning (yes stunning!) adult Kittiwake. This bird stayed for three days until at least Sunday.

Ringing Storm Petrels at Point Lynas

Yesterday a friend of mine who is a ringer asked me if I'd like to go with him to Point Lynas on Anglesey to ring a few storm petrels. I jumped at the chance straight away. Yes it was going to be a late night, but hopefully it would be a tremendous experience. So we set off from St Helens at about 7:00pm, and finding clear roads we made good time, to arrive at Point Lynas with still plenty of daylight remaining, allowing us to set up the net with ease and safety.

We were on a headland, miles from anywhere, about 20 feet above sea level, in a beautiful location. Choughs flew overhead and we could see Gannets out at sea. As we scanned the sea for shearwaters, a Harbour Porpoise broke the surface in the rapidly fading light.

Twenty minutes after we arrived, the net was up, about 10 feet high, stretched across poles about 30 feet apart. Next came the sound system! A portable CD player with two impressive looking speakers attached, which were positioned behind the net. Then we sat and waited. Gradually it got darker and darker. I could still occasionally make out the silhouette of the harbour porpoise on the flat calm of the sea, and the occasional Curlew or Oystercatcher flew over calling, but I was struck by how silent it was, just the very gentle lapping of the waves on the rocks, as several pipistrelle bats flew around and the lights from distant towns began to come on.

Then at about 10:30, the time had come, and on went the CD. What a bizarre and eerie experience! The silence was shattered by the purring and chuckling of petrels. We had two species calling from the speakers, Storm and Swinhoes, the latter having only ever been recorded in Britain on a handful of occasions, but almost all at ringing sessions such as ours, so we thought it had to be worth a try. I've heard petrels calling at close range before, from my visit to St Kilda in 1987, when we would sit on the edge of the cliffs at night and listen to both Storm and Leach's Petrel.

At first there was nothing, except the bats, which flew so close to the net, but miraculously managed to avoid going in (although one did hit the net later, which looked bigger and we thought might have been Noctule). Then suddenly, from nowhere, there was a bird in the net. My friend  went over to it, and yes, we had a Storm Petrel. We had a quick look at it, before he popped it into a bag. Now we could see that as well as the bats, there were also birds flying around us, Storm Petrels. By about 11:30 we had three petrels in bags, and went to ring them, behind a gorse bush about 50 metres from the net. 

In the torch light we could see as my friend ringed each bird in turn and made various notes. Amazingly small and delicate birds to ride out the fiercest storms at sea, they fit the same size ring as would fit a Blue Tit! Then he allowed us to take one or two photos, but not too many, not wanting to distress the bird more than necessary, and finally he allowed us to smell the birds. A strange but not unpleasant smell of the seaside! Then the birds were put back in the bags and taken to the release site. No torches were allowed at the release site so as not to dazzle the bird before it flew. 

I was told me to put my hands together to make a shallow cup and he gently placed a Storm Petrel in my hands, pointing it out to sea. The bird sat quietly, not seeming too worried, for about a minute, free to go whenever it wanted to, occasionally gently pecking my hand, but not in anger, more inquisitively. Then it stretched it's wings and fluttered away out to sea and was lost to sight in the darkness. In total we caught 10 Storm Petrels, before packing up early at 12:45. I was in bed for 3:30am, not a bad price to pay for the experience of a life time!

It had been a flat, almost still night, no sign of a storm, yet at least 10 birds came close enough in shore at the point where we were to hear the call and be trapped. How many more must there be out there? Apparently they come close in shore at night to feed.

Montagu's Harrer, Reed's Moss, Rainford

I was on my bike, riding down the track that goes across Reed's moss, when I saw a long tailed, long winged bird being mobbed by Lapwings. At first I thought it was a falcon, but then I saw its white rump and 'fingers' and I realised it was a ring-tailed harrier. Its wings were very slender, it had a very light flight and its secondary coverts and body were very rufous and unstreaked. It had Montagu’s Harrier written all over it!

It flew right over my head, chased by Oystercatchers, Lapwings and even a yellow wagtail joined in, and then it flew away into the distance, before turning and flying back again, allowing me great views. It was clearly a young female Montagu's! Then it headed off north, and was seen again about half an hour later from the Old Coach Road by another observer. By incredible co-incidence, the birder who saw it on the Old Coach Road phoned me last night on a completely unrelated subject. I had never spoken to him before last night!! 

Both photos in this post are of a juvenile Montagu's harrier which was at Marshside in late August 2025.

Memories of St Kilda

Photo: Boreray and the stacs from Conachair
St. Kilda 1987

In June 1987 I ignored a mates advice that as a young man in my mid-twenties I "shouldn't be going camping to St Kilda, I should be going on a lads holiday with him to Malta" and decided instead to head for the island on the edge of the world. Looking back on it, it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Most of my photos from that period are on slides which I very rarely look at, but recently I've been thinking that I need to get copies of them before either the slides deteriorate or my ancient projector stops working. So I present them here for posterity with a short(ish) write up before my memory fades also. The photos are of generally poor quality, but they've been kept in the attic for 30 years and subject to extremes of temperature, so I'm happy enough with them. I kept meticulous notes of my trips even then, including departure and arrival times, weather and exactly what birds and plants we saw and that's what I've based this post on.

There were 12 of us on a private charter organized and led by my friend John who knew more about St Kilda than was good for anybody. This was to be about his sixth visit to the archipelago and it certainly wasn’t his last, it was more-or-less an annual event for him back in the 1980’s. He had arranged for our party to camp on the archipelago's main island Hirta for nine nights but it was a long journey from Oban and would also require two days each way on a boat.

Our boat was a converted fishing boat, the "Danbrit". Looking at these photos now I find it quite alarming that we were about to undertake a 26 hour journey in this especially since a large part of the journey would be out into the open Atlantic ocean! I think that's John sitting on the quay but I can't be sure.

These were our sleeping quarters on the boat. We were to spend at least one night each way in here, but St Kilda is a difficult place to land due to swell and wind, and it was perfectly possible that when we arrived we wouldn't be able to dock for a day or two.

White-beaked dolphins from Good Shepherd III

On May 25th 1986 myself and two mates were on board the legendary Good Shepherd III, on our way back to Sumburgh from a week on Fair Isle and looking forward to 10 days on Shetland. By lucky chance this was also the last scheduled sailing of Good Shepherd III which was about to be replaced by Good Shepherd IV. 

We met Good Shepherd IV half way back and the two boats circled around each other with the crews in celebratory mood, before we continued on our way. Almost as if they were escorting us back, 3 white-beaked dolphins rode the bow of Good Shepherd III. Still the only white-beaked dolphins I've ever seen for sure.

Good Shepherd III, pictured here at Sumburgh, had legendary status due to the rough seas on the 2.5 hour journey. It was a converted fishing boat not really designed to carry passengers. Good Shepherd IV is luxury in comparison. At the time of writing (24/07/2025) GS IV is still operating, though I have heard that it is soon to be replaced by Good Shepherd V.

White-beaked dolphin riding the bow of Good shepherd III. This was my first experience of this behaviour and probably the thing that got me hooked on cetaceans. 

After Fair Isle we spent two weeks on Shetland where one of the highlights was the long staying black-browed albatross in the gannet colony at Herma Ness on Unst.

Me and Jon at Herma Ness, with Muckle Flugga lighthouse behind.