I had plan A, B, and C for Friday’s high tide, but somehow my car had a mind of its own and opted for plan D and took me to Southport. When I get to the motorway at Standish I have three options, head north for the Fylde or Leighton Moss (A, B) south for the Wirral (C), but no, my car wanted to go to Southport, - Again.
Did I want to go to Southport again? No I did not. Last month’s high tide was a near disaster (darling) in photographic terms. After arriving at Ainsdale I walked out well out of reach of dog walkers (Bless Um) I settled down and waited for the tide to do its job and bring the waders to me. After half an hour things were looking good at the head of the pack I could make out Grey Plover, a bird that has eluded my lens thus far. Another quarter of an hour and I should have filled my boots as they say, then, suddenly, the sky was darkened with thousands upon thousands of birds, the army of waders that was marching towards me had vanished before my eyes. The reason was, the Sefton Beach Patrol, two quad-bikes riding in tandem out on the mudflats, apparently searching for dead bodies (cocklers maybe?)
But feeling tired and not wanting to drive too far here I was again. I arrived in the nick of time as the tide was well in and with the absence of beach patrols and dog walkers, god knows where they were, but Bless-um all, they weren’t here. And what a difference the place was alive with thousands upon thousands of waders, so here are a few of the results......enjoy David
|A Grey Plover fly past|
|A simple close up of this most beautiful of waders|
|Dunlin with onlookers|