Ides of March

It sneaked up on me somehow, but this past week marked my blog’s first anniversary, or birthday, or whatever blog’s celebrate when they’ve been around a year.  I’ve truly enjoyed the experience so far, although I haven’t always been able to dedicate the time I wanted to.  As a “Blog Year Resolution,” I’ll try to be more regular in my posts, and continue getting out there and living the birding life in South Korea.

Most of my time recently has been spent settling into my new schools, and wrapping my head around my new work schedule.  My birding time has been once again relegated to the weekends, but with the days getting longer every week, soon I’ll be able to do some late day birding as well.  And just in time, too – new arrivals are showing up all the time.  Here’s a brief look at what I’ve been up to in the month of March.

The eastern wall of Geumseongsanseong, with Damyangho Lake in the background.

Two weeks ago I went with Melanie to Geumseongsanseong (금성산성), an old mountain fortress in nearby Damyang-gun.  We had hiked the steep walls of the fortress in March of last year, where I had found a golden eagle and a flock of alpine accentors.  It was this latter species that we returned to look for again this year.

Despite the fine weather, we never found the alpine accentors, but there was plenty of activty, including all four species of tit (chickadee), numerous Eurasian nuthatches, and an unexpected Siberian accentor which put on a brief show for us near one of the fortress gates.  This was Melanie’s first sighting of Siberian accentor, and by far the best views of one I’ve had yet.

The steep walls leading down to the East Gate.

Siberian Accentor (Prunella montanella montanella)
Click the image to see a short video of the accentor singing.

Last weekend found us in Suncheon-si, looking for cranes and any overwintering or recently arrived buntings.  This was a special trip, planned specifically to get Melanie her 500th bird.  To that end we were very successful, arriving near Suncheonman Bay and quickly finding at least 40 hooded cranes.  Just as I had found my 600th bird here only a few months earlier, Melanie found her 500th in the rice fields at Anpung-dong.  We went on to find her three more species to add to her list: Pallas’s bunting, reed bunting, and little bunting.  We had a very enjoyable walk along the Dongcheongang River, despite the threat of rain throughout most of the day.  There are definitely signs of spring in the air now: species are completing their molts, many species are singing, and the first of the early migrants are beginning to arrive.

Reed Bunting (Emberiza schoeniclus pyrrhulina)

Black-headed Gulls (Chroicocephalus ridibundus) and a Vega Gull (Larus vegae) along the Dongcheongang River.

The weather made a significant change this weekend, and today brought the first 18°C day of the year.  Taking advantage of the spectacular weather, Melanie and I invited our friend Victoria to come birding with us at Mudeungsan National Park, at the Jeungsimsa Temple.  Melanie and I had hiked this trail last April, and had some good luck with a variety of bird and insect species.

It’s moments like these that I question having bought a 400mm lens.
© Victoria Caswell

Melanie and Victoria on a break midway along the trail to Baramjae Ridge.

This was Victoria’s first real plunge into the birding world, and fortunately I was able to point out a lot of interesting species and behaviors.  We came across a pair of coal tits gathering moss for a nearby nesting site; click the link to see a video of the birds gathering moss.  There were numerous varied tits, pairs of both pygmy and white-backed woodpeckers, and a migrant yellow-browed bunting, which was only the second of this species I have ever seen (the first being one in the same mountain chain almost exactly a year ago to the day).

However, the pièce de résistance was definitely a very tame ring-necked pheasant, which foraged along a mountain stream in full view for tens of minutes.  We were privileged to have this opportunity to watch the pheasant for so long, and from such a short distance.  Our constant staring into the woods attracted several Korean onlookers, curious as to what was so interesting to the bunch of waygooks (Korean word for “foreigner”).  We passed out our binoculars to those who were interested, and all in all it was a great moment to show some of the locals this special (not to mention breathtakingly stunning) bird which, though very common in Korea, is often times overlooked.

A view of South Gwangju from the Baramjae ridge.

Yellow-browed Bunting (Emberiza chrysophrys)

Brown-eared Bulbul (Hypsipetes amaurotis amaurotis)

Ring-necked Pheasant (Phasianus colchicus karpowi)
Click the image to see a video of the bird’s foraging behavior.

Although much of this month has been spent indoors teaching English classes, the time that I have spent outdoors has been incredibly fulfilling.  With the cold grip of winter beginning to loosen on the Korean peninsula, I look forward to warmer temperatures and renewed birding ahead!

Fall Birding in Suncheon

Back in April I had made my first trip to Suncheonman Bay (순천만), where I went looking for shorebirds during their spring migration.  Now nearing the end of October, I returned there in the hopes of adding some new migrants to my list.  Top on that Wish List: hooded crane.

Since moving to Korea, I’ve adapted nicely to not having a car of my own.  Public transit in this country is phenomenal, and while I’m still adjusting to coming and going on someone else’s schedule, I can’t say that I haven’t been able to explore the country on my own.  Most buses start running at 5:45am, so I made the effort to wake up early and get out of Gwangju as soon after sunrise as I could.  By 7:35 that morning, I was on my way to Suncheon-si, on a bus that contained no more than five other passengers.  I love early morning travel!

The unassuming façade of the Suncheon-si Bus Terminal.

I was in Suncheon-si by 9am.  Instead of heading to the Suncheonman Eco-Park, as I had in the past, I decided instead to check out some new areas along the bay, namely Hwapo Beach (화포).  From there I would walk along the edge of the bay north towards Anpung-dong and the Eco-Park.  If there was time (and I wasn’t completely exhausted by that point), I would head further north of the Eco-Park, following the Dongcheon River for a kilometer or two.

Hwapo Beach is several kilometers out of Suncheon-si proper, but there are two city buses one can take to get there.  One block from the Bus Terminal is a city bus stop where you can pick up the #67 (to get to the Eco-Park).  You can also pick up the #81 or #82 here, which will take you to Hwapo.  However, I’d recommend checking the bus schedule carefully before making plans, as I waited nearly 40 minutes for #81 to arrive, before finally giving up and hailing a taxi.  I’m not sure if this bus starts running later in the the afternoon, or perhaps it doesn’t run at all on Sundays.  Whatever the case, if you go the taxi route, expect to pay around 16,000 won for the trip.

I (finally) arrived at Hwapo, and was greeted by a pair of Daurian redstarts and several brown-eared bulbuls.  A winding side road leads through a small village and right to Hwapo Beach…or at least it would have if the tide hadn’t come in.  I mentioned it in my last post about Suncheon-si, but to reiterate an important point: always check your tide schedules before heading to the coastal areas for some birding.

Hwapo Beach at high tide, somewhere under a meter of water.

Disappointed and mildly irritated, I checked my phone for a tide chart, and discovered that the “true” high tide was 5 minutes ago.  So the water would now start to head back out to sea, but it would take about 6 hours to get there.  Oh well, I could safely cross off finding any interesting shorebirds for awhile.

All was not lost, however.  A steep hillside jutted up from the edge of the “beach” area, and within the vegetation I found a good variety of birds, including Japanese tit, Eurasian jay, yellow-throated bunting, another pair of Daurian redstarts, two ring-necked pheasants, and a pair of vocal bull-headed shrikes.  The real highlight was a passing northern goshawk, a year bird for me.  It circled low overhead, giving me plenty of chances for photos before disappearing over the hillside.

“Eurasian” Northern Goshawk (Accipiter gentilis schvedowi)

Despite the tide, there were plenty of birds out on the water.  These were mainly black-tailed and black-headed gulls, but further out over the water I saw a small flock of Far Eastern curlews flying northward to some destination.  A second flock contained curlews and whimbrels.  Where were these shorebirds heading to?

I decided the best plan would be to head in the direction that the shorebirds were going and maybe get lucky and stumble onto their roost.  I left Hwapo Beach with a new year bird, and by far the best photo of a northern goshawk to date.

I returned to the main road, walking along the shoulder for about 2 kilometers through the village of Haksan-ri.  About every 100 meters or so I would find one or two Daurian redstarts.  Many of the males were in their bright colors, and several were singing away, staking out their territories.  Another common bird on my walk towards Anpung-dong was the bull-headed shrike.  Since October started, I have found at least one (often times more) of these predators on every outing I go on throughout the southern part of the country.  There is even a juvenile bird skulking around behind the middle school I work at in Gwangju.  Throughout the course of the day, I counted a total of eight shrikes in an 8-kilometer stretch!

Bull-headed Shrike (Lanius bucephalus bucephalus)

Raptors were also out in force today.  Along the roadside I found a juvenile Eurasian kestrel perched atop a telephone pole, overlooking a rice paddy.  Shortly thereafter a second kestrel flew in and the two took to the air, soaring high over the area.  At the same time, I spotted an oriental honey-buzzard some distance away, flying northward before disappearing from the distance.

Juvenile Eurasian Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus)

I stopped for lunch when I reached Anpung-dong, one of the vast rural areas surrounding downtown Suncheon-si.  This area hugs the shore of Suncheonman Bay, and a raised berm gives a great vantage point to scan the mudflats for shorebirds and waterfowl at low tide.  There are two pagodas and several benches set on the berm so you can stop and take a rest.

A view of Suncheonman Bay, as seen from the berm in Anpung-dong.

Enjoying some kimbap I purchased at the bus terminal, I set up my scope and took to scanning the mudflats.  There were few shorebirds that I could see, although occasionally I would hear or spot a common greenshank.  There were, however, loads of waterfowl dabbling in the mud and receding tide.  The majority were mallards, but careful inspection through the horde revealed dozens of northern pintails and Eurasian teal.  I also spotted two Eurasian wigeons hiding in the masses of mallards.  A flock of about fifty or more common pochards was an added bonus, and made for the best views of this species I’ve had yet.  Further out in the bay were loads of grey herons and great egrets.  Sitting atop of pole set out in the bay was an osprey – another year bird!  Although osprey are fairly common in the right habitat back in North America, and I’m used to seeing their fairly often, I have not been able to find any osprey all year in Korea, despite traveling to several coastal environments where they should have been.  It was great to add this species to my year list, and especially good to see the Eurasian subspecies, which may one day reach full species status.

Packing up my scope, I made my way into the endless rice paddies of Anpung-dong, heading back towards the bus stop where I could pick up the #67 back to Suncheon-si.  It was here that I hoped to spot some cranes foraging in the fields; hooded and white-naped cranes use the harvested rice paddies as a stopover area in their migrations.  Unfortunately for me nary a crane was seen, but the paddies did hold other treasures for me to find.

The sea of golden rice at Anpung-dong.

It began with small groups of threes and fours of olive-backed pipit, a species I haven’t seen since April.  These were joined by other groups of sky larks, a life bird!  Unfortunately, I would only know these birds were around when they took to the air, as the harvested rice still left enough cover for them to hide in.  Equally frustrating were the four common snipes that I inadvertently flushed along the roadside.  The edge of the paddies are muddy and water pools there, mainly because of the machine tracks left behind by the harvesters.  These function as small oases, and the snipes used their camouflage very well…I never saw any of them until they exploded out of the vegetation and flew off.  However, in so doing, they offered me good views of the white edge on their wings, which is a diagnostic tool for identifying these birds.

As I continued to mistakenly flush snipe, I came upon another bird which resembled the snipes, but was strangely different.  I only got three opportunities to see it, as it flushed only three times before disappearing.  When it would fly, it never went very far (unlike the snipes, which would fly off to a completely different rice paddy, or disappear into the horizon altogether).  And watching it fly I was able to discern a shorter, broader bill than is characteristic of snipe; the bill also had a slight downward curve, and ended in more of a nub than a point.  A quick look through my field guide revealed this bird to be a male greater painted-snipe, a rare breeder and overwintering species in South Korea.  Far more common in Southeast Asia and Africa, the greater painted-snipe is a skulking wader in the Rostratulidae family.  This species exhibits reverse sexual dimorphism, in which the females are more brightly colored than the males.  The bird I was seeing had the yellow wash and bright yellow striping of a male bird.  Most importantly of all, this was Life Bird #584!

I was trying desperately to capture an image of the painted-snipe, and in so doing stumbled onto another Life Bird: a sharp-tailed sandpiper.  Unlike my snipe quarry, the sandpiper was much more accommodating, and stuck to the pools of water where it would keep a close eye on me, but nonetheless stay in sight.  This species resembles the pectoral sandpiper, but its dark rufous cap and obvious white supercilium differentiate it from the pectoral.

Sharp-tailed Sandpiper (Calidris acuminata)

A little further on, I unexpectedly flushed a Far Eastern curlew right alongside the road!  I’ve seen this species reliably feeding on the mudflats at Suncheonman Bay, but never close enough for a photo, and surely never in the rice paddies.  I jumped at the chance to photograph this amazing shorebird with its enormous bill.  It wasn’t until much later, when I reviewed my photos, that I discovered why this bird was so far from the bay and by itself.  It appears to have suffered an injury to its left leg, and though it could fly perfectly well, it will have a hard time walking around.  Closer examination of the photo below shows the leg to be twisted at an awkward angle.  It’s a sad thing to see an injured bird, but I have seen many one-legged shorebirds that seem to manage their disability just fine, so time will tell what will happen to this curlew.

Far Eastern Curlew (Numenius madagascariensis)

Although I dipped on the cranes, there were plenty of interesting species still around Suncheonman Bay.  Finding the greater painted-snipe was surely one of the more exciting and unexpected lifers that I’ve found this year.  I’m encouraged now to explore some of the rice paddies closer to Gwangju – who knows what may be waiting to be found there?

On the Hunt for Shorebirds

When I lived in Ontario, one of my favorite birding day-trips in the spring and fall was to Presqu’ile Provincial Park in Brighton, right on the shores of Lake Ontario.  It was quite a trek from my home in Ottawa, but the beaches around Presqu’ile provided scores of shorebirds, terns, and gulls, that I could just not find anywhere closer to Ottawa.  On this weekend Melanie was off on a school trip with her co-workers, so I gathered my gear and hopped on a bus to Suncheon-si, a short hour and a half bus trip east from Gwangju.  The destination was Suncheonman Bay (순천만), a large protected coastal wetland which is one of the largest in South Korea.  It is a well-known stopover site for the rare white-naped and hooded cranes, as well as approximately 140 other species of bird.  Needless to say, my interests were piqued at the word “wetland.”

Wetlands are Nature’s treasure, both in terms of bird life and environmental health.  Coastal wetlands provide valuable food and shelter for countless species, as well as beneficial protection from storm surges coming from the ocean.  Their value to human and wildlife is immeasurable; unfortunately, most people see them as eye sores and prefer to drain them and build condos than see them for their real worth.  I spent six months in the salt marshes of Rhode Island working with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, so you’ll forgive me if I have a soft spot for coastal wetlands.

From Gwangju, Suncheon-si is easily accessible from the U+ Square Terminal.  The fare was only 6,900 won one-way (at the time of this trip), and buses leave every thirty minutes.  I arrived at the Suncheon Bus Terminal at 11:30am, and was immediately greeted by three house swifts circling over the terminal.  Not on the ground five minutes and already checked off a lifer…the Bird Gods were smiling on me today.  The day was warm and bright, and although I was starting much later than I would have liked, it promised to be a good day nonetheless.  Birding the coastal estuaries is all about timing: arrive too early or too late and the tide is up and the birds are anywhere but where you want them to be.  Coastal birding revolves around the tide schedule, so there is a little bit of leeway on the early morning / early evening dynamic common to land birding.  For the uninitiated, to successfully bird the land, the best times are first thing at dawn and two or three hours before dusk, as the birds are most active at these times.  Come midday, especially in the hot summer months, and the birds are on siesta.  This rule doesn’t apply when birding coastal mudflats, as the tide determines when the mudflats are exposed and therefore when the birds can access all of the food sources available in these habitats.

My route along the Dongcheon River to Suncheonman Bay.  The total length of the walk was about 12km…and worth every inch!

I had originally meant to grab a city bus to the Suncheonman Bay Ecological Park (순천만 자연생태공원), the main site of the protected reedbeds and mudflats at the Bay, but I ended up misreading the bus schedule and hopped on the #67 going the wrong direction.  If you’re more adept at reading Korean than I am, from the Bus Terminal walk south one block and you can pick up the #67 bus to the Suncheonman Bay (순천만) stop in Daedae-dong.  Be sure to cross the street and take the bus from that side, not the same side as the Bus Terminal.  This is the route I’d recommend, although if you have the time and you enjoy a long, long walk, you can take the route I took instead.

Quickly realizing I was going to the wrong way, I got off the bus and headed over to the Dongcheon River, which bisects the city of Suncheon-si down the middle.  There is a paved bicycle / walking trail that follows the river for its entire length through the city, and as Suncheon-si is a popular tourist destination in South Korea for its environmental savvy (Suncheon-si is known as “Korea’s Green City”), this walking trail is beautifully landscaped and idyllic for an afternoon stroll.  I’d recommend a stop here, if only to enjoy the river and the nice flowers and cherry blossoms along the way.

The river was alive with activity.  Near a small waterfall by the Palma-ro Bridge, there were nearly forty black-headed gulls, many with their hoods fully formed.  Close inspection did not locate any other species of gull, although I was hoping for a stray Saunders’s gull, but just seeing the black-headed gulls was a pleasure.  These birds are analogous to the Bonaparte’s gulls of North America, but have bright red beaks and legs that distinguish them immediately.  They are uncommon visitors to the Americas, but show up regularly on the East Coast in places like Nova Scotia (where I had found my first, and only, black-headed gull in 2008).

A Black-headed Gull (Chroicocephalus ridibundus) flying along the Dongcheon River.  The bird has not completed its molt, and only has a partial hood.

There were some reeds along the shore of the river, and it was here that I heard a couple of small whistle-like calls.  A careful search of the reeds revealed three Chinese penduline-tits and several vinous-throated parrotbills.  The hedgerows along the walkway were dripping with Eurasian tree sparrows and several brown-eared bulbuls were flying in and out of the cherry trees.  Further downstream I could see dozens of eastern spot-billed ducks and two pairs of little grebes in their breeding colors.

A tiny Chinese Penduline-tit (Remiz consobrinus) clings to some reeds.  It was quite a challenge to capture this photo with such a small bird in a mess of reeds…not to mention the gusting wind!

With much deliberation I decided to leave this quaint spot and continue down the river.  I should point out at this point that I was under the impression that the Suncheonman Bay Eco-Park, my destination, was only about 3km downstream and that this walkway would lead me right to it.  I was right about the second part of that statement – the riverwalk does indeed lead to the Eco-Park…eventually.  It turned out to be nearly 8km before I reached the Eco-Park.  So as I said at the beginning, take the #67 bus.  Unless you had the clarity of mind to bring a bicycle with you.

I’ve found that some of my more notable mis-adventures tend to produce great memories and even better results, and this situation was no different.  The walk was very long, but it was also quite scenic and took me through a diverse series of habitats, each with its own selection of species.  As I was leaving the city limits, there were farm plots to the east and west, and the walkway was lined with cherry blossoms.  The ever-present Eurasian tree sparrows gave way to olive-backed pipits, and a few of the farm plots held eastern spot-billed ducks, little egrets and grey herons.

Cherry trees line a walking path along the Dongcheon River.

One of the Olive-backed Pipits (Anthus hodgsoni) along the Dongcheon River walkway.

Further south of the city proper, the farms gave way to wide expanses of grasslands and sedges along the river.  This section of the river was under construction, as a new overpass was being built, following the course of the river.  Despite the disturbance of machinery, the best birding of the day was to be found in these grassy oases.  It started with several barn swallows flying over the fields.  It wasn’t long before I noticed a single Pallas’s bunting ahead of me on the path.  This would be the first of three of these large sparrows I would encounter during the day, but I was unable to capture any photos of these shy birds.  Further down from there, near the joining of the Dongcheon and Isacheon Rivers, I came onto a large mixed-species flock of passerines foraging along the pathway.  There was a glorious male Siberian stonechat, which I identified later as being of the breeding subspecies on the Korean peninsula (Saxicola maurus stejnegeri) rather than a passing migrant of the nominate subspecies (S. m. maurus).  Several Tristram’s buntings led the foraging flock, with two black-faced buntings and two more Pallas’s buntings were visible in the reeds and grasses.

Just before reaching the Eco-Park, after nearly two hours of walking with a backpack filled with my tripod and scope, I stopped at a small opening in the reedbeds, where I found that the water level was dropping as the tide went out.  Feeding on the exposed mud were nearly a half-dozen grey herons, two great egrets (one each of both Korean subspecies Egretta alba alba and E. a. modesta), and to my surprise and great thrill, three Eurasian spoonbills!  Close to the spoonbills, three common greenshanks were resting near the edge of the water.  The spoonbills were amazing to watch; I had never had the opportunity to go to Florida and see North America’s roseate spoonbill, so this was a rare treat for me to see these amazing heron-like birds.  They would walk in the deeper water, rocking their heads back and forth while sieving the water with their specialized bills.  Unfortunately all of this was happening too far away for photos, but I hope one day to find this species again a little closer to shore.

The Eco-Park itself was a mixture of great habitat, but sorely underwhelming performance.  By the time I arrived at the Park, the parking lot was full of cars and buses, and just about every inch of the boardwalk into the reedbeds and estuary was covered with people.  The Park is quite beautiful, and the protected habitat is beautiful.  But what I saw brought to light the great dichotomy in conservation: we want to set aside land to protect it and the species that live there, but the only way to successfully convince people to protect land is to make it into a park, allowing people to see the land they are protecting.  And by allowing people into it, you essentially strip it of its protected value, because what makes it “protected” and “natural” is the lack of people.  I can imagine that first thing in the morning, before the tour buses arrive, the park and its lovely boardwalk are pristine, and the habitat can be used by the birds and other species for which it was set aside.  But when I arrived at the Eco-Park, there was no sign of any wildlife at all, just a steady flow of tourists following the boardwalk through a barren habitat.  Perhaps because the tide was going out all of the birds left the shelter of the reedbeds to forage on the exposed mud.  I don’t really know, but I found the long walk from the city to be infinitely more productive and peaceful than the sight before me.

 I didn’t stay long at the Eco-Park, deciding to walk through one more section of agricultural land to reach Suncheonman Bay itself.  Although I was pretty tired at this point, it was a very good decision.  The farmland was quiet and calm, and loads of oriental turtle-doves were flying from field to field in search of food.  There were a few great egrets, and a handful of “Chinese” white wagtails (Motacilla alba leucopsis) along the roadside.  I reached the edge of the Bay to find that the tide was far out, leaving a wide expanse of thick mud exposed.  At first it appeared as though nothing was on the mud, but scanning with my scope revealed a hidden plethora of birds.  Fairly close to the edge of the Bay were tens of Pacific golden-plovers, and further out were scattered Far Eastern curlews.  These large shorebirds sport extremely long decurved bills that they use to reach deep into the mud to find food.  Even from this distance the birds were incredible to watch as they poked their long bills all the way to the hilt into the mud.  Still further out, almost to the edge of the water, were hundreds of white birds.  Straining through the distance and rising heat haze, I was able to make out enough detail through my scope to identify them as common shelducks.  These ducks resemble common mergansers in color and shape, but are slightly larger and bulkier, and stand on tall legs like small geese.  Mixed in with the common shelducks were a handful of ruddy shelducks, distinguishable by their bright orange plumage.

After a long, arduous walk, I had found the shorebirds I was looking for.  Unfortunately the mud was too deep for me to walk out onto the mudflats, at least not without knee boots.  But the birds were there, and closing the day with eleven lifers made the sore feet and tired legs worth it.  I hopped on the #67 back to the bus terminal (I wasn’t about to walk the whole way back, now was I), and took the opportunity on the ride back to Gwangju to catch some much needed R&R.