On Gossamer Wings

Mid-June through to mid-August marks my brief hiatus from the birding world.  The desire is there, but unfortunately the birds usually are not.  They’re busy making the next generation, and later, preparing for the long journey back to their southern wintering grounds.

So in the “dog days of birding,” I turn my attentions to butterflies and dragonflies.  While I don’t go after these creatures with the same flair and gusto as my avian obsession, I still enjoy discovering new species and finding unexpected surprises.  The identifications are a lot more challenging (especially with dragon- and damselflies, which often are only differentiated by the most minute details), but it’s the challenge that keeps it interesting.

Below I present a sampling of some of my latest discoveries.  I’ve taken a real interest in the Lycaenidae family of butterflies, the small gossamer-wing species for which this post is titled.  They are quite amazing in their delicate beauty, and test my abilities both with identification and photography.

Antigius attilia
Geoje-si, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea

Taiwan Wave-eye (Ypthima multistriata)
Geoje-si, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea

Aeromachus inachus
Geoje-si, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea

Holly Blue (Celastrina argiolus)
Gakhwa Reservoir, Gwangju, South Korea

Wide-bellied Skimmer (Lyriothemis pachygastra)
Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park, Gwangju, South Korea

Wide-bellied Skimmer (Lyriothemis pachygastra)
Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park, Gwangju, South Korea

Chance Encounter

When I first arrived in Korea, I was put in contact with the former English teacher at my school.  We exchanged a few emails, and she told me everything I needed to know about the school and the surrounding neighborhood.  She was interested in me, as well, and asked a few questions about my experience and interests.  On my obsession with birding, she had only this to say: “There are no birds in Korea.”

Well, 212 species later, I can definitively say that her statement was mistaken.  Korea has plenty of birds, if you know where to look.  What it doesn’t seem to have, however, are mammals.  At least, not in the sense that I am used to from North America.  To see a chipmunk or squirrel is notable and worthy of remembrance; to have the chance to actually see a Korean water deer is nothing short of a miracle (seriously).

Last weekend Melanie and I were ending a short walk in the mountains near our apartment, having taken advantage of the lengthening days and warmer temperatures that mark the beginning of Korean springtime.  The resident species were hard at work preparing their nests for the breeding season: we found a pair of vinous-throated parrotbill bringing materials to a hidden nest, the white-backed woodpecker nest I found earlier in March was occupied by the female, and we even watched a small pygmy woodpecker start excavation of a nesting cavity close to the side of a trail.

But birds weren’t the only ones with breeding on their minds.  As we walked down a steep trail back towards the Gakhwa reservoir, I heard some scrambling in the leaf litter and spotted two large, dark shapes running through some low vegetation towards us.  We stopped mid-step and, as if sensing our presence, the two moving shapes stopped as well.  So we had the opportunity to look through our binoculars and properly see what it was:  Eurasian red squirrels!

Eurasian Red Squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris)

It appeared that one squirrel was chasing the other out of his territory when they stumbled onto the two of us.  Melanie and I stayed still, and though the squirrels would otherwise have run off into the woods and disappeared, the territorial behavior was too strong and the squirrels resumed their chase, bringing them right onto the trail and very close to where we were standing.

One squirrel continued up the trail, giving the other squirrel (and us) one last glance over its shoulder before disappearing into the woods.  The other squirrel, victorious in chasing an intruder from his territory, scurried up a nearby tree and chattered at us, voicing his frustration at not being able to chase away the human intruders as well.

The squirrel chatters at us to leave his territory, allowing us unhindered views of this remarkable creature.

Yes, I know it’s just a squirrel.  But when you consider that, after having lived in South Korea for nearly 13 months, I’ve only seen four squirrels (including these two), and never one as out in the open as this, the experience takes on a whole new meaning, especially for someone like me who (tries to) spends more time outside than in.

One final glance before scurrying up the tree…just look at the contempt in his eyes.

It’s these experiences that keep me going out and looking.  I can travel the same trail again and again over the course of months, and I still manage to find something new each time.

Hints of Spring

If there is one thing I have learned since moving to South Korea, it’s that things move very quickly here.  The Koreans call it 빨리 빨리 (balli balli), literally quickly, quickly.  Work begins on a new 4-story apartment building, and three months later the first tenants are moving in.  The weather starts to become colder, and from out of nowhere it does a 180 and you see butterflies in February.

Having just returned from Cambodia, where it was regularly 32°C (89°F), the sudden onset of spring-like weather wasn’t all that sudden to me.  And no, I haven’t forgot to post about Cambodia, I’m just collecting my thoughts and pouring over about 300 photos, so please bear with me.

I start teaching at my new schools next week; another semester is about to begin.  So while I still have time, I decided to check out my local patches to see if anything new had arrived while I was globetrotting in Cambodia.  There weren’t any new migrants (not surprising since it’s still February), but many places were abuzz with bird song and activity.  All of the resident species were fully molted and dressed in their finest.  The overwintering species were nearing completion of their molt, and preparing to leave Korea behind and make the long trip to their northern breeding grounds.  Waterfowl had begun to amass on the Yeongsangang River, comprised mostly of gadwall, common mergansers, Eurasian teal, and the first of the falcated ducks.

A distant photo of a pair of Falcated Duck (Anas falcata)

Male Gadwall (Anas strepera)

At the Gakhwa reservoir this morning, many of the resident species were stretching their vocal cords and beginning to sing; some were even hard at work building nests, as was clear by a female white-backed woodpecker excavating a cavity in a tall dead tree near the reservoir.  I also saw a pair of long-tailed tits carrying materials into the thickets, likely to a well-concealed nest site.  I’ve posted some of the best photos from the past week below; more are available at my at my website.

Juvenile Eurasian Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus)

Long-tailed Tit (Aegithalos caudacutus magnus)

Varied Tit (Poecile varius varius)

The Woodpeckers

The days are ever so slowly getting longer now.  After my winter English camps at school, there were still a few hours of daylight, so I took a quick trip to the Gakhwa reservoir to look for some more birds for my January 100 Species Challenge.

There were the usual little grebes on the reservoir – eight in total this time.  I took one of the steeper trails this time, hoping to locate some white-backed woodpeckers that I know were breeding on the mountain.  As I scaled the near-vertical climb, oriental turtle-doves flushed from their roosts in the treetops, in groups of threes and fours.  I counted some thirty-odd birds before I stopped counting.  An inquisitive Daurian redstart was the only other bird along the ascent.

I reached the top and took several minutes to catch my breath…yet another subtle hint that I’m no longer in my twenties anymore.  While I waited a foraging flock of coal tits and varied tits came along the trail, feeding high in the trees and creating quite the racket.  These two species were the last of the resident tits (chickadees) that I had not seen this year in Korea.

It was around that time that I heard a soft tapping in the trees behind me.  Soon after there were several pic calls, characteristic of woodpecker contact calls.  Pic calls are difficult to diagnose in the field; unlike many other bird species, woodpeckers are difficult to identify solely on their calls.  Woodpeckers do not sing to attract mates or defend their territories; instead they drum on tree trunks and branches, so while this drumming can be used to identify a woodpecker, the contact calls are useful only in alerting you to the presence of a woodpecker, not to the particular species.

A little bit of searching revealed a male white-backed woodpecker, right where I expected to find one!  While watching him, I heard more soft tapping behind me.  Expecting to find his mate, I was surprised to discover a female great spotted woodpecker instead.  Although both of these species are resident in South Korea, I usually encounter white-backed woodpeckers more often than great spotted woodpeckers, so coming across the latter is always a special treat.

Male White-backed Woodpecker (Dendrocopos leucotos leucotos)

Female Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopos major japonicus)

Up until now I had not had the opportunity to photograph a great spotted woodpecker.  They are typically quite shy as compared to the other woodpecker species in Korea.  This bird, though wary, would allow me to observe from a small distance, and as long as I didn’t try to get closer, she was fine to let me take as many photos as I wanted.  While I enjoyed my photo session with the great spotted woodpecker, I inadvertently found the female white-backed woodpecker I was expecting to find.

With now three separate woodpeckers foraging around me, I wasn’t too surprised to hear the sound of a pygmy woodpecker fly overhead.  However, I was incredibly surprised to hear the call of first one, then a second, grey-faced woodpecker shortly after the pygmy had flown by.  In one small grove of trees on a mountain ridge, I had just seen the four main woodpecker species in the country!

Male Grey-faced Woodpecker (Picus canus jessoensis)

As the sun was setting, I began the trek back down the trail.  The woodpeckers had gone their separate ways, and the trails were quiet with only the sound of pale thrushes disturbing the silence.  A short way down the path, I unexpectedly flushed a scaly thrush, an infrequently seen resident species in these mountains.  Scaly thrushes are very shy, and despite their large size (almost twice the size of an American robin), they prefer to hide in dense thickets or low-lying vegetation.

Though I only had a short time, it was an enjoyable outing with a lot of surprises.  I have now found most of the resident species in this part of South Korea, so the January 100 Species Challenge will now become more interesting as I search for the winter visitors.

The Big Day

A “Big Day” is birder lingo for a 24-hour period where you try to see/hear as many species as possible.  The record in North America, set by Team Sapsucker from Cornell University in 2013, is 294 species.  I’m using the term “Big Day” here, but by no means is it the same thing.  I try to start off the first day of a New Year by seeing as many birds as I possibly can throughout the day.  However, I’m usually thwarted in my attempts because of family obligations or a potential hang-over from partying too much the night before.

The first day of 2014, however, was as close to an actual “Big Day” as I’ve ever come.  I started out at the crack of dawn (7:30am) meeting my friend Peter Hirst near our apartment in Duam-dong.  Melanie opted to come with us, so the three of us set out in Peter’s car to start 2014 at the Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park.  On the drive there we spotted the first bird of 2014 – not surprisingly, a Eurasian magpie.  Shortly afterwards we saw an enormous flock of birds swirling in the sky.  These were small passerines, and though they made no flight calls (which was unusual), I identified them as bramblings, a visiting winter finch.  The flock easily numbered about 300 birds.  The third bird of the year was a lone white-cheeked starling sitting on a telephone wire along the road.

The 4th bird of 2014:  Common Buzzard (Buteo buteo japonicus)

We arrived at Gwangjuho Lake, spotting a common buzzard on a tree near the lake, a couple mallards on the water, and a single little egret foraging in the shallows.  The parking lot held Eurasian tree sparrows, azure-winged magpies, and Japanese tits.

A map of the Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park

The entrance to the Gwangjuho Lake Eco-Park

The trees near the entrance of the Eco-Park were dripping with bramblings.  Further along the walkways we found oriental turtle-doves, a grey wagtail, and brown-eared bulbuls.  The exposed shoreline of the lake revealed white wagtails of the leucopsis and lugens subspecies, as well as two long-billed plovers.  On the water were more mallards, common mergansers, and tufted ducks.

The first day of 2014 at Gwangjuho Lake

After a few hours at the Eco-Park, we had tallied nearly 30 species, including bull-headed shrike, grey-faced woodpecker, red-flanked bluetail, Daurian redstart, yellow-throated bunting, and rustic bunting.  Before heading out to our next spot, we checked along a small country road in the mountains for passerines.  It was a worthwhile stop, as we added Eurasian jay and goldcrest to our day total.

Peter knew of some good lookouts along the Yeongsan River nearby, so we headed out to the river to look for waterfowl.  The majority of ducks on the river were Eurasian teal, but we also found decent numbers of northern pintail, gadwall, eastern spot-billed duck, and whooper swan.  Other waterbirds included grey heron, great egret, little grebe, and Eurasian coot.  We also had the good fortune to spot some raptors along the river, including another common buzzard, two Eurasian kestrels, and a passing Eurasian sparrowhawk.

Eurasian Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus)

Common Buzzard flying over the Yeongsan River near Damyang-gun

Eurasian Teal (Anas crecca)

After a nice lunch of mulguksu (물국수) at a small restaurant near the river, we decided to stop at one of the pagodas and watch the water for anything to float by.  There were mostly Eurasian teal on the water here, as well as a group of domestic geese that are resident along this stretch of the river.  A few passerines like long-tailed tit, brown-eared bulbul, and yellow-billed grosbeak were also spotted.  Before leaving the Yeongsan River behind, we spotted a single Eurasian moorhen among a flock of teal.  We left the Yeongsan River with a day total of 45 species.

Taking a break at the Yeongsan River
Melanie Proteau Blake and Peter Hirst

Little Egret (Egretta garzetta garzetta) roosting in a tree

Brown-eared Bulbul (Hypsipetes amaurotis amaurotis)

The light was beginning to fade as we hurried to our last stop for the day: the Gakhwa reservoir.  I was hoping to pick up a few more passerines here, but our timing was off and we only added pale thrush at this location.  We did manage to find a good variety of birds, including the now regular little grebes on the reservoir (only 9 out of the usual 11 birds), a few more Daurian redstarts and red-flanked bluetails, and lots of vinous-throated parrotbills and yellow-throated buntings.  The fading light did not tempt any owls to start calling, though I was hoping to hear the regular oriental scops-owls that breed in the area.

Red-flanked Bluetail (Tarsiger cyanura)

The end of the “Big Day” 2014

At the end of the “Big Day” we had tallied 46 species altogether.  A far cry from Cornell’s Big Day record, but for me it was a personal high count for the first day of a New Year.  I hope this sets the pace for the rest of 2014.

Drawing to a Close

In only a few short days, 2013 will come to an end and a New Year will begin.  I spent the second to last week of the year in a fog, fighting a nagging cold that wouldn’t quit.  I spent Christmas Day on Skype, talking with family on the other side of the world.  Sometimes it’s surreal how the time difference between the east coast of North America and South Korea can seem like time travel – it’s Christmas morning for us while I talk to my parents and nephews who are preparing for bedtime on Christmas Eve…how can it be today and yesterday at the same time?

I managed to recover from my cold enough to spend part of the last weekend of 2013 at the Gakhwa reservoir.  It seems fitting, since this was the first place I went to when we arrived in Gwangju all those months ago; where else would I spend the last days of the year?

Gakhwa Reservoir, just starting to freeze over.

It had snowed overnight on Saturday, and was still snowing a bit Sunday morning.  Snow is ephemeral here; it arrives and disappears within the same day, so one must take advantage of it while it lasts.  In the mountains surrounding the reservoir, the snow was still coming down in light flakes.  It was beautiful to see the mountains under a fresh layer of snow.

In addition to the regular residents like Japanese tit, pygmy woodpecker, Daurian redstart, and brown-eared bulbul, I came across several winter visitors like four red-flanked bluetails, a common buzzard soaring high over the valleys, and two goldcrests (Lifer #609).  The goldcrests resemble golden-crowned kinglets, and were found in a large mixed-species foraging flock along one of the mountain trails.  Check out the complete species list.

Vinous-throated Parrotbill (Sinosuthora webbiana fulvicauda)

Red-flanked Bluetail (Tarsiger cyanura)

The few hours I spent at the reservoir produced some great birds.  Despite having traveled over the trails around these mountains for nearly a year now, I am still surprised with new species that I had never seen here before.  It is truly one of the wonders and thrills of birding to continually see old favorite sites with new eyes.