Rain & Rice

It’s the rainy season here in South Korea.  This year is being called the dry rainy season; it rains, but not nearly in the quantities that are normal.  Most days are characterized by overcast skies and that hanging feeling – it’s really humid and feels like it will pour at any second, but it doesn’t.

Not the kind of weather you want to go birding in.

I had been antsy the past few weeks.  I hadn’t been getting out much, I hadn’t been photographing much, and I hadn’t birded at all.  So despite those ominous clouds on Saturday morning, Melanie and I headed out to Gwangjuho Lake Ecological Park, hoping a change in scenery might do us some good.

The Eco-Park had undergone some “improvements” since my last visit a few months ago.  Several sections had been landscaped and replanted; in usual Korean style, it had been started and finished in a matter of days and there was no trace that anything had been done.

New plantings at Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park.
This area had previously been an empty meadow just a few weeks ago.

The park held several families of azure-winged magpies.  We saw numerous adults foraging for food to bring to the gaping mouths of their offspring.  One group of four fledglings mobbed their parents whenever one of the adults came in with food.  Even among siblings, competition for food is fierce.

Sibling rivalry
Azure-winged Magpie (Cyanopica cyanus koreensis)

An adult Azure-winged Magpie, looking for food in the humid afternoon

There was more evidence of successful breeding throughout the park.  We saw several small groups of juvenile Japanese tits flitting about in the trees.  Near the entrance to the park were two juvenile grey-headed woodpeckers, the likely offspring of the Eco-Park’s resident pair.  These younger woodpeckers lacked most of the adults’ green coloration, appearing overall grey with a hint of green on the tail feathers.  The two juveniles kept in constant contact with each other and the adults by making short whistles.

Juvenile Grey-headed Woodpecker (Picus canus jessoensis)

We continued deeper into the park, finding small numbers of birds in little pockets throughout the area.  A large flock of vinous-throated parrotbills, full of juvenile birds, was the biggest single sighting we had all day.  The flock numbered around 40-50 birds; not an uncommon number for this time of year.  The boardwalk around the northern edge of the park was very quiet, with only a few Japanese tits and passing oriental turtle-doves.

A section of the boardwalk.  There was very little water here, despite the extensive growth of reeds and grasses.

Gwangjuho Lake itself was a shadow of itself.  The water level was down tens of meters, with an exposed lake bed stretching off into the distance.  Most of this muddy, nutrient-rich land had transformed into a field of low vegetation.  Gwangjuho Lake is artificial, serving as a primary reservoir for the surrounding area.  The water is used for drinking and agriculture, and its low level reflects the planting of the first round of rice for the growing season.

At the distant edge of the water we could see grey herons, great egrets, and little egrets taking advantage of the newly exposed mud.  Little ringed plovers, a breeding shorebird in the park, could be heard calling intermittently from across the lake bed.  We even spotted an immature Eurasian hobby patrolling the area, and making a successful grab at an unidentified prey.

Little Ringed Plover (Charadrius dubius curonicus)

Hidden in the short vegetation on the lake bed were small damselflies.  It seemed like there were thousands of them, quickly flitting about and disappearing in the greenery.  Larger dragonflies, namely black-tailed skimmers and wandering gliders skimmed across small pools of water.  We found numerous exuviae in the mud, evidence that many of the dragonflies we saw were newly emerged adults.

Dusky Lilysquatter (Paracercion calamorum)

Eastern Lilysquatter (Paracercion melanotum)

We completed our loop around the Eco-Park, scoring a few more species for our efforts.  Black-naped orioles were singing lazily in the humid air.  A family of bull-headed shrikes chased one another around, and juvenile pale thrushes begged for food from a single adult bird.  We took a break from the heat near a grove of metasequoia trees, lounging in the shade as the heat of the day wore on.

The Metasequoia Grove at Gwangjuho Lake

Dryad (Minois dryas)

On our way out of the Eco-Park, I noticed a small black dragonfly perched on some tall cattails by one of the lily ponds.  It turned out to be a butterfly skimmer, one of my favorite Asian dragonflies.  Also flying around the cattails were two species of damselfly, both identified only by their Latin names.

Butterfly Skimmer (Rhyothemis fuliginosa)

Ceriagrion melanurum

Ceriagrion nipponicum

After spending several hours at the Eco-Park, Melanie and I decided to visit one of the small restaurants across the street from the Park entrance.  We had discovered a small place during our last visit, which makes an excellent pajeon (파전).  Pajeon is a type of pancake, whose main ingredient is green onions.  A good pajeon will have grilled onions, green onions, maybe some peppers, and usually a type of seafood like calamari.  For a mere 8,000W (~$8), we got a huge pajeon and several side dishes (as is Korean custom).

Our half-eaten pajeon with a few side dishes.  This delicious Korean pancake doesn’t last long…

Before heading back home, we decided to stroll around Chunghyo-dong and see the many rice paddies in the area.  The rural area in Chunghyo-dong is much like rural areas anywhere in Korea: rice paddies stretch off into the distance and take up any flat land that is available.  I’ve often thought of Korea as having only three habitats: city, mountain, and rice paddy.

Rice paddies in Chunghyo-dong

However, the monoculture of rice paddies can be deceiving.  Wildlife still manages to keep a tenuous toehold in this environment.  Herons like striated heron, cattle egrets and great egrets make use of the shallow water to catch small fish and crustaceans.  Grey wagtails can be found along the drainage ditches connecting the separate cells of the paddies.  We even discovered four dollarbirds perched high above the rice paddies, scanning the area from a high-voltage power line that straddled the mountain valley.  Insects like dragonflies and damselflies also benefit from the shallow water, using the sheltered paddies to lay their eggs.

The highlight of our walk through the rice paddies was an adult Chinese sparrowhawk.  I’ve seen this species several times before, but always soaring high overhead.  This was the first one that I’ve found perched, and so was able to get a few photos before it flew off.

Chinese Sparrowhawk (Accipiter soloensis)

After spending nearly half the day in Chunghyo-dong, we caught the hourly 187 bus back to Gwangju.  Overall we observed 32 species of bird, 7 species of butterfly, and 10 species of dragonfly and damselfly.  A complete list of the birds seen can be found here and here.

The Peacock and the Skimmer

I had been cooped up in the apartment for too long.  The rainy season in South Korea was dragging on, and as final exams loomed at school, I was under pressure to create meaningful review lessons to prepare my students.  My birding had taken a back seat for the meantime, and while July is always a slow month for birding, I had been away from the chase for too many weekends.  So Saturday morning Melanie and I set out to Gwangjuho Lake Ecological Park (광주호 호수생태원) on the outskirts of Gwangju.  The Eco-Park is a little removed from the city, but is easily accessible by the #187 village bus.  This bus only comes once an hour, usually on the :30 or :45, so be sure to check the bus schedule before leaving – nothing is worse than waiting for an hour because you missed the bus by a few minutes.

Rice paddies in Chunghyo-dong, just outside the Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park.

The surrounding area in Chunghyo-dong is covered with rice paddies and agriculture.  Wading through the paddies were numerous cattle egrets and little egrets; occasionally a big great egret could be found.  The skies above the paddies were full of red-rumped swallows hunting insects; on this instance I also found a Eurasian kestrel hunting the swallows that were hunting the insects.

The Eco-Park had grown wild since my previous visit in April.  The small ponds were inundated with reeds, and hidden within were several oriental reed-warblers.  The grounds of the Eco-Park had dozens of azure-winged magpies and Eurasian magpies feeding their offspring.  I also spotted a scaly thrush with a mouthful of food for an unseen nest or fledgling.  One of the resident pair of grey-faced woodpecker also put in a brief appearance.

Many of the shrubs were in full bloom, and butterflies and dragonflies abounded.  Most of the butterflies were Asian swallowtails, but a few Chinese peacocks could be found with a little effort.  In the small ponds, there was a wide range of dragonflies, including black-tailed skimmers, scarlet skimmers, with smaller numbers of pied skimmers and butterfly skimmers.  I was particularly drawn to the butterfly skimmers, which had magnificent black iridescent wings that exploded with color in the sunlight.  Zipping among the blades of grass were several small green-and-yellow damselflies, which I later identified only as Ceriagrion melanurum.

The Chinese Peacock ( Papilio dehaani), one of the flashier butterflies at Gwangjuho Lake.

Asian Comma (Polygonia c-aureum)

A Long-tailed Spangle (Papilio macilentus), missing part of its long tail.

This damselfly is identified only by its Latin binomial Ceriagrion melanurum.

A Butterfly Skimmer (Rhyothemis fuliginosa), as translated from the Japanese common name; this is possibly one of the most beautiful dragonflies I’ve ever photographed.

We took the boardwalk along the edge of Gwangjuho Lake, drinking in the fresh air and sunlight.  Even though the day was a warm one, and the skies were mostly clear, there was still a surprising amount of birdsong in the air.  On the lake we saw a mother mandarin duck with two fluffy chicks in tow, and came across several groups of vinous-throated parrotbills with fledglings.  Melanie almost stepped on a dark-spotted frog, which provided me with a photo opportunity before disappearing into the grasses.

The boardwalk at Gwangjuho Lake.

Dark-spotted Frog (Pelophylax nigromaculatus)

A black-naped oriole could be heard singing from somewhere in the Eco-Park.  We could also hear two common cuckoos and a lesser cuckoo calling periodically.  Near a junction in the boardwalk, by a shallow reed bed, the sounds of oriental reed-warblers gave way to a juvenile bull-headed shrike, calling out to attract an adult.  Shortly thereafter an adult male came in from the north and answered its anxious fledgling.  Not far from there were several more vinous-throated parrotbills and Japanese tits in a mixed-species foraging group.

A shallow reed bed near Gwangjuho Lake.  Oriental reed-warblers and two bull-headed shrikes were located near here.

A juvenile Japanese Tit (Parus minor), foraging on its own with a sibling at Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park.

We left the boardwalk and proceeded through a stand of metasequoia trees.  A Japanese bush-warbler could be heard calling nearby.  A dollarbird flew overhead, and in the swarms of red-rumped swallows overhead I found three barn swallows.  On the other side of the Eco-Park is a large open area with ornamental shrubs and trees.  This area was undergoing maintenance, so we decided to head back to the entrance of the park.  On the way we stopped at an observation deck overlooking the lake.  Hidden in the trees I found three common kingfishers, the most of this species I have found anywhere.

Eurasian Magpies (Pica pica sericea).  This photo reminds me a little of the crows in Dumbo.

It was getting near the lunch hour when we decided to head back to Gwangju.  On the way out of the park we passed another group of azure-winged and Eurasian magpies.  An adult male ring-necked pheasant ran across the walkway, and hiding in the tall grass I found a small juvenile pheasant.  All in all the visit to the Eco-Park was a great outing.  I’m looking forward to returning here in the early autumn, to see what kind of migrants use the park as a stopover on their migration routes.

Butterfly Hunting at Gunwangbong

July is a difficult month for birders.  The breeding season is in full swing, so most birds are concerned with feeding their chicks or keeping an eye on fledglings.  Many species stop singing and disappear, not to be seen again until the autumn.  At these times many birders turn their attentions to other things, most often dragonflies and butterflies.

Many of the birders and photographers I know from Ontario switch to looking for insects in the summer months.  It makes a lot of sense when you think about it: birders are very determined and very attentive, so we can’t help but notice things around us, even if it’s not of the feathered variety.  Besides, some dragonflies and butterflies can easily rival the most ostentatious of wood-warblers in terms of coloration, while others require that same attention to detail that all birders hone over the years.

It’s the rainy season in South Korea now, and the weather is very unpredictable.  On occasion it will rain for several days straight, then be overcast and excessively humid for a few more days, and then rain again.  The only real constant is the humidity and heat, which remain regardless of how much water falls out of the sky.  On the rare days when the clouds break and the sun appears, temperatures quickly soar into the 30s, and the added humidity makes it difficult to stay out long or do any long-distance travel on foot.  I haven’t been able to get out as often as I’d like recently, both because of the weather and my work schedule.

Even so, I took a few hours this weekend to put down my laptop and lesson plans and head out into the wilds, hoping to reconnect with an old friend who I’ve neglected for too long.  I can’t quite characterize my relationship with the natural world; often times when I’m wandering along a mountain trail or walking the shore of a lake, I think to myself yeah, this is home.  Almost like the human world with its electronics, cars, bustling crowds, and constant noise, all that is the fake world.  Here on this mountain, or here by this lake, this is where we’re supposed to be.  This is where we really belong…it’s where we’ve always belonged, even though we like to think we’re somehow beyond it or above it.  Needless to say, even a few hours surrounded by the trees and life was enough to recharge the old batteries.

A map of Gunwangbong Peak and the reservoir on the outskirts of the Mudeungsan chain.

So this weekend Melanie and I stole away to Gunwangbong Peak (군왕봉), a mountain in the Mudeungsan chain that is near our apartment in Duam-dong.  The peak itself isn’t particularly high, topping at about 365 meters (~1,200 feet), but it is a pretty steep climb.  However, the view from the top is incredible: on a clear day you can see the entirety of the city of Gwangju laid out below.

My main focus was to look for some interesting butterflies and dragonflies.  I knew this area quite well, and although there is a good diversity of bird species in the area, I was not expecting to find any lifers, especially not so late in the breeding season.  Most of the species we encountered were the typical mountain species, such as Japanese tit, pygmy woodpecker, white-backed woodpecker, oriental turtle-dove, and brown-eared bulbul.  There were a few summer breeders around as well, including black-naped oriole and Asian stubtail.

A male nominate White-backed Woodpecker (Dendrocopos leucotos leucotos)

At the base of the mountain is an abandoned reservoir.  There are a few gardens nearby, and plenty of ornamental flowers and shrubs, which attract all kinds of butterflies.  We found two species of swallowtails, large butterflies from the Papilionidae family.  The most impressive was the Chinese peacock, a large black butterfly with iridescent blues and reds in the wings, which explode in color when in the sunlight.  The second, the Asian swallowtail, reminded me of the tiger swallowtails from eastern North America, except larger and lighter in color.  Along a small stream leading into the reservoir, we found several small damselfies, which I later identified as stream glories or oriental greenwings.

Asian Swallowtail (Papilio xuthus)

Chinese Peacock (Papilio dehaani)

Stream Glory (Neurobasis chinensis)

On the way up to the peak we stopped at a small overlook.  A few black-tailed skimmers were flitting around, and near one of the burial mounds I noticed two butterfly skimmers engaging in aerial combat with one another.  I wasn’t able to photograph these dark-winged beauties, but just seeing them was enough for me.  We made use of the shade of the trees here and took a short siesta, getting our strength back before taking on the last stretch to the top.  It was easily nearing 40°C, and not much cooler in the shade.

A male Black-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum cancellatum)

I was dozing a bit when I noticed a small bird pop up from the nearby vegetation and perch on an open branch.  It was small with a long tail; I figured it to be a brown-eared bulbul as they are very common in these mountains.  So you can imagine my surprise when I raised my binoculars and found myself looking at a tiger shrike scanning the vegetation for insects!  Here was Lifer #499!

Tiger Shrike (Lanius tigrinus): Lifer #499.

My field guide had said that tiger shrikes were uncommon summer visitors to the Korean peninsula, but delving through the eBird database and following sightings in Korea had not yielded any reliable places to find this species.  In fact, the complete lack of sightings made it appear far rarer than the field guide would have me believe.  And yet, here was one no more than two kilometers from my apartment, hunting over a forest opening that I had been to dozens of times before.  It’s moments like this that remind me why I love birding so much: it’s the serendipity of the sport, and how even your backyard can surprise you sometimes.

The Tiger Shrike gives me a smile before returning to hunting insects near Gunwangbong Peak.

After an enjoyable photo session with the shrike, we decided to tackle that last push to the top of Gunwangbong, even though the heat was unrelenting and we were slowly going through our water supply.  Thankfully the trail to the top is relatively shaded in the forest; it’s a tough climb, but there is plenty of cover from the sun.  In the shade of the trees we found a few more butterflies on wildflowers along the trail.

A skipper butterfly, Daimio tethys

Grey-veined White (Pieris melete)

At the top of the peak there is a large observation area, with benches and a small marker designating the summit.  We stopped here for a long time, exhausted from the ascent.  A few more butterflies were flitting about, mainly Pallas’s fritillary and an Old World swallowtail; there was also a Eurasian magpie hanging around, looking for scraps of food from the people taking a rest in the shade.  It was a very clear day, with very little haze despite the high humidity.  Below me the whole of Gwangju spread out into the distance – this was the first time I had actually seen the whole city.

A panorama of the city of Gwangju, as seen from the top of Gunwangbong Peak.

A marker at the summit of Gunwangbong Peak.

Pallas’s Fritillary (Argynnis laodice)

A male Indian Fritillary (Argynnis hyperbius), flitting among several Pallas’s fritillaries at the summit of Gunwangbong Peak.

Old World Swallowtail (Papilio machaon), a little worse for wear.

A female Indian Fritillary (Argynnis hyperbius)

It was a productive walk through the mountains, and finding the tiger shrike was an exciting and unexpected surprise.  Although birding can slow to a crawl during the dog-days of summer, it’s still worth keeping an eye out.  The birds may be on hiatus until the fall, but there are still plenty of other amazing critters to discover out there.  And anytime you can see a familiar place with new eyes makes all the difference.

The Nemesis Bird

Generally birders are easy-going, energetic, active, and hyper-aware of their surroundings.  You could also use the words obsessive, quirky, eccentric, or just downright weird.  I think you have to be all of these things to do what I do.  Well, I wouldn’t describe myself as weird, but all the others certainly apply.

Therefore it may seem strange to use a word like nemesis to describe a bird, of all things. Isn’t that a little harsh?  Well, yes and no.  A nemesis bird is birder lingo for a bird that one has repeatedly tried to see and repeatedly been denied the pleasure (what we call “being dipped”).  We all get dipped from time to time.  What makes a bird a nemesis is the continuous, often times incessant, refusal to be where it is supposed to be, so that we don’t drive for hours on end, halfway across a state or province, just to find out that we “just missed it.”  That phrase (or related ones like “it was just here” or “I just saw it five minutes ago”) are like the Achilles’ heel of a birder’s composure; we typically lose our cool at that point, and a stream of swearing and profanity can often ensue.  The more swearing and profanity, the more nemesis a nemesis bird is.

A nemesis bird can also be one that, for reasons unknown, cannot be found in an area or habitat where it should be found.  Making several trips to an obscure tract of forest or unknown marshland all for the chance to see a bird that should be there, only to find out that it isn’t, even though everyone you’ve spoken to says it’s a “sure thing,” or “you can’t miss it” gives the title of Nemesis to even the most unsuspecting of sparrows.

I’ve had several nemesis birds in my time, but those were all back in North America, and all but one have been found and checked on my list (I’ll get you one day, American Three-toed Woodpecker).  I didn’t think I’d be in South Korea long enough to get a nemesis bird here, but what did I know?

My field guide calls it the Common Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis).  Some words of advice for beginners: don’t ever fall for the misnomer of “common.”  A lot of birds with the word common in their names are anything but.  There are three species of kingfisher that can be found on the Korean peninsula, not including vagrants.  Despite living in a city with two rivers, and visiting other rivers, reservoirs, and lakes, all across the southern portion of South Korea, I had been unable to find any of these so-called common kingfishers.  Belted kingfishers (Megaceryle alcyon), the widespread kingfisher of North America, can be found almost anywhere there is water, including even drainage ditches.  So it’s understandable why a bird called the “common” kingfisher quickly got on my Nemesis List for being so completely un-common.

So, as happens with some nemesis birds, I try to put it out of my mind and focus on more attainable birds.  But of course, I can’t walk past a suitable body of water without looking for my nemesis.

Melanie had a Hiking Club outing with her school on Friday.  She took the kids to Damyang, just outside of Gwangju, and they walked along the Yeongsan River bike trail.  She came home and mentioned seeing a strange heron, which she described as being similar to a black-crowned night-heron, but darker.  She’ll be the first to admit that her ID skills are not as honed as my own, but while she may not be able to identify a species just by its song, she definitely knows what she’s seen and what she hasn’t.  So Saturday morning we took a trip to Damyang, to retrace her steps and see if we could relocate this mysterious heron.

We hopped on the #311 village bus to Damyang; it’s a short trip, only about 15 minutes or so.  We got off right near the Yeongsan River, across the street from the Juknokwon Bamboo Forest (죽녹원).  If there had been enough time we would have checked out the bamboo forest, but we were both interested in walking the riverside, so perhaps another trip.

Our starting point was a small district in Damyang, with numerous restaurants, shops, an archery range, and of course the bike path along the river.  There were many families enjoying the good weather, but it was by no means crowded.  We began walking past a sports complex on the banks of the river, complete with a 1km running track.  The bike path next to this complex was lined with shrubs, and squeezing through a gap in the vegetation, hoping to get a better look at the river, I found a Japanese tree frog in the foliage.  I almost knocked it off its branch as I tried to get through the shrub.  There are only two species of tree frog in South Korea, the Japanese and the Suwon tree frog.  The Japanese tree frog is more widespread; the range and preferred habitat of the Suwon tree frog are poorly understood.

A Japanese Tree Frog (Hyla japonica) near the Yeongsan River in Damyang.

The river was a magnet for heron species, and we quickly spotted grey heron, great egret, intermediate egret, and little egret near the shore.  Several domestic mallards and greylag geese were also dabbling in the water.  Eurasian and azure-winged magpies flew along the length of the river, and very close to our bus stop I found an azure-winged magpie nest still under construction by two adults.

One of a half dozen nominate Little Egrets (Egretta garzetta garzetta) in Damyang.

A stately looking Grey Heron (Ardea cinerea cinerea) watches over a small spillway on the Yeongsan River in Damyang.

A Grey Heron takes to the air.  It’s amazing to watch such a large bird fly so gracefully above the water.

The future home of a pair of Azure-winged Magpies (Cyanopica cyanus koreensis) near the Yeongsan River.

A few of the domesticated Greylag Geese (Anser anser) at the Yeongsan River in Damyang.  These are typically called “barnyard geese” or “Embden geese.”

There was a small spillway along the river where we found singles of great and intermediate egrets, a grey heron, and two eastern spot-billed ducks.  As we passed the spillway, a small dark heron burst out from the vegetation and flew downstream.  I was able to get it in the binoculars, and sure enough, it was a striated heron.  Melanie confirmed that this was the same thing she had seen the day before on her school hike.  And so, Lifer #497 was added to the list.

We continued a little further before crossing a bridge and heading back on the other side of the river.  Heading back to our bus stop, we found three mandarin ducks, and got some close up views of a black-crowned night-heron and a Eurasian kestrel.  Near another spillway we located a second striated heron.  This bird would stand at the base of the spillway and pick small fish that got too close.  I was able to use the vegetation and get in close to the base of the spillway, and when the heron returned to its place, I got a chance at some amazing photos.

Near this portion of the Yeongsan River, we found and observed an incredibly accommodating Striated Heron.  I used the tall grasses to get close to the heron’s preferred hunting spot at the base of the spillway.

A Striated Heron (Butorides striata amurensis)
gives me a passing glance before returning to catching fish.

My victory portrait, after successfully photographing Lifer #497.

While I was photographing the heron, I noticed a female grey wagtail walking the concrete spillway.  Might as well snap a few photos of her while I’m at it.

A Grey Wagtail (Motacilla cinerea robusta) at the Yeongsan River.

After the spectacular photo session with the striated heron, we had some lunch before continuing our hike.  While eating, I saw and heard several other species, including a cattle egret, a Japanese bush-warbler, a pygmy woodpecker, a passing black-naped oriole, and three common cuckoos.  One of the cuckoos was kind enough to let me take a portrait.

A Common Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) near the Yeongsan River in Damyang.

The trail turned into a boardwalk near a small sandy cliff along the river.  This section of the river held two pairs of oriental reed-warblers, vinous-throated parrotbills, brown-eared bulbuls, and an oriental turtle-dove cooing in the branches.  Near another spillway we found two more striated herons, a barn swallow, and three white wagtails, one of which was a recent fledgling.  The two adult wagtails stayed close to the fledgling, but it was an older bird and capable of flying short distances on its own.  It kept in constant contact with the adults, continuously making a chipping call to say “I’m here!”

A Grey Heron sits idly on the railing of the boardwalk on the Yeongsan River in Damyang.

A fledgling “black-backed” White Wagtail (Motacilla alba lugens) waiting to be fed by an adult.

A Striated Heron jumps across a gap in the spillway at the Yeongsan River in Damyang.  The herons really enjoyed hunting along spillways such as this.

Oriental Turtle-dove (Streptopelia orientalis)

After a few hours of hiking, we decided to get on the bus back to Gwangju.  I stopped to photograph the oriental turtle-dove pictured above, when there was a high-pitched squeak and a small flash of iridescent blue.  From under the boardwalk came a tiny bird, which flew over the river, stopped and hovered, dove into the water, and then flew off into the surrounding trees.  The whole event lasted no more than fifteen seconds.  And just like that, my nemesis was finally caught: the bird was a common kingfisher, probably a male.  Suddenly I began to notice all the signs around me.  The bank of the river here was high, the boardwalk cutting into a sandy cliff – perfect habitat to put a kingfisher nest.  There were several dead branches hanging over the water, and underneath most of them were ample collections of droppings – obviously the kingfisher had several favorite perches to watch the river from.

We waited around for awhile, and were treated to several more views of this diminutive bird.  Kingfishers as a family are notoriously wary of humans, and photographing them is an exercise in patience and persistence.  Alas, I didn’t manage to catch my nemesis on film, but just seeing it was memorable enough.

During the course of our hike, we also encountered a variety of dragonflies and butterflies.  I have yet to locate a source of identifications for Korean dragonflies, so many of these will remain unknown until I can get my hands of a field guide or locate an accurate website.  The butterflies, on the other hand, I am pretty confident in IDing.

We found several of these unnamed damselflies during our walk.  They are referred to by their Latin binomial Calopteryx atrata, and do not have a common name as of yet.

We found many of these Eastern Pale Clouded Yellows (Colias erate) along the bike path.

A female Deielia phaon, an Asian dragonfly that does not have a common name.  We encountered quite of few of these dragonflies during our hike.

Many of these small damselflies were flitting between blades of grass.  They’re identified as Platycnemis phyllopoda.

A female Black-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum cancellatum).  The males of this species are a chalk-blue color.

An Asian Comma (Polygonia c-aureum).  I managed to photograph this active butterfly as we were returning to the bus stop.

Deielia phaon, a male this time.

Our hike along the Yeongsan River had proven to be quite productive, both in terms of birds and wildlife in general.  Nabbing two lifers also helped sweeten the deal.  And any time you can check off a nemesis bird, well, life doesn’t get much better.  Now, to try to photograph said nemesis bird…ahh, another challenge for another day.