"Dreich", for those who haven't come across it, is, I think, an old Scots/Gaelic word to describe cold, wet, grey days, often favoured by hillwalkers as they return joyless from a trek in the HIghlands with sodden kagoules and leaking boots.
It was equally appropriate to describe Plex Moss this afternoon - misty, grey and raw, with one or two quite unnecessary rain showers.
And it was quiet. Too damn quiet.
About 1,500 Pinkies were grubbing about in a stubble field a quarter of a mile east of Getterns Farm, and the big Canada Goose was with them.
When you start considering the provenance of one of these things, you know you're onto a loser - but its claims to wildness are probably no worse than many a Ross's Goose that has crept onto certain Lancs lists, and a good deal better than the iffy Red Breasted Goose that pops up with the feral Barnacles at the Mere (oh, come on, you KNOW it spends the summer down around Knowsley and Prescot).
11 Whoopers in one of the ploughed fields, with four Greylags with them. One of the adult Whoopers was colour ringed (yellow), but I couldn't make out the sequence.
Aside from that, Plex belonged to the Carrion Crows and Jackdaws today.
No thrushes, in fact the only one of them of note was a pre-roost Redwing sitting up in the poplars out back of Dempsey Towers, turning rapidly into a silhouette, when I got home.
Eyes to the skies everyone, eyes to the skies...