A glorious blue sky with a brisk, slightly chilly WNW wind. I immediately abandoned plans to go shopping in Manchester and headed up on to the moor.
At the stile leading on to the moor proper, I startled a group of five red grouse. They flew off downhill in panicky formation, low above the purple-turning heather. Good practice for this coming Friday: the so-called Glorious Twelfth.
At the stile just before the big shed, I was joined by three wheatears, which were hunting for flies in the lee of the wall. As always with wheatears, they were sufficiently trusting to come fairly close, but sufficiently wary to avoid coming quite close enough. They always kept about 15 yards in front of me, flitting quickly into the heather after flies, as I walked slowly towards them.
There were more harebells as I came down the track off the moor. I managed to get a half-decent photo this time:
I also spotted some of the tiny, iridescent green beetles in the tree willow at the side of the lane:
They always seem to be in that one tree, eating the leaves. I'll find out what they are one day, no doubt. Earlier this year, I thought the tree had died, but its upper twigs are now covered in leaves. But there are no leaves on its lower branches. I wonder if the beetles are to blame.