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| Sokcho |
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| Fake plastic trees |
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| Tim scanning gulls at Ayajin |
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| Tim standing on what used to be a rocky stretch of Brant Goose habitat |
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| Northern Shoveler Anas clypeata |
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| Buff-bellied Pipit Anthus rubescens |
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| Naumann’s Thrush Turdus naumanni |
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| Cinereous Vulture Aegypius monachus |
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| Eurasian Kestrel Falco tinnunculus |
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| Eurasian Kestrel Falco tinnunculus |
Eurasian Kestrel in a hover
Habitat loss, outrageous smog levels, unseasonably warm weather, and profound unbirdiness have been the four thematic pillars of birding in Gangneung for the past few weeks. When I leave this country, I sure won’t miss birding in a mask, or the dirty heat of a layer of smog coating my face. And I will never take clean air for granted again, that is for damn sure.
On all birding days, the weather was in the low double digits – feels like winter is done. That snuck up on me, as I still have some winter birds I need to catch up with. Ah well, I guess I can blame that on the fact that I sleepwalked my way through January, obsessed with that Black Woodpecker. I regret nothing. Looking out the window now, buds are visible on most trees. I wonder if all of this means an early spring, birdwise…
On February 20th, notable at Gyeongpo Lake were single examples of Cinereous Vulture, Green Sandpiper, Buff-bellied Pipit, and Japanese Bush Warbler. Two days later at the lake, in deteriorating air conditions, an uptick in thrush activity got my attention. At least four Dusky Thrush and a few Naumann’s Thrush lurked in the scrubby wooded area around some canals. Skulky buggers. I’ve only seen one Dusky Thrush there all winter – is this a sign of early spring movement, or just wintering birds roaming as their favoured fruit trees get depleted? A hovering Eurasian Kestrel and a squad of five Siberian Accentors were also memorable.
The following day, I walked the Namdae River in the morning smog. I got good looks at a Northern Shoveler that I originally had pegged as a female. It turned out to be a male coming out of eclipse plumage (yellow eyes), or “supplementary sub-eclipse plumage,” or whatever it’s called.
On the 24th Tim rolled into town and we bussed it up to Sokcho, then points further north. It was smoggy as all get-out, but the smog didn’t seem to bother Tim much, guess he’s made of stiffer stuff. After a spot of seawatching and a lovely breakfast of Korean stew, we headed up to Ayajin in search of Brant Goose. Up until fairly recently, the quaint port used to be reliable for the rare species, which favoured the rocky western flank of the harbour. Black-legged Kittiwake, Sanderling, and a motley collection of other sea-going waterfowl also could be found in the harbour.
Unfortunately (but perhaps predictably), since Tim’s last visit, this entire area of rocks had been walled off, drained, and filled in with concrete. The reclaimed land now features a shiny new picnic area with park benches and rubberized floor cladding, and a convenient place for drunks to erect tents. Completely pointless, but let’s keep those lads pouring concrete, innit, it’s what makes the world go round. It goes without saying there were no Brant Geese there, as those rocks are now buried under ten feet of concrete. There weren’t any around the corner and down the coast either, as the coastal rocks there that may have provided secondary refuge to the shy species were teeming with weekenders playing at fishing – guests of the row of new hotels on the ocean road catering to such activity.
We retreated into the hills to nosy around the scrubby hills where Ural Owls were once reputed to haunt. Much of the narrow wooded trail network had also been altered for the worse since Tim last visited, this time with extensive clearing of vegetation and conversion of wild fields into flat gravel lots. Tim seemed to be in a daze, checking if his memory had failed him, or if it really all had been destroyed.
Apologies if I come off as a salty, embittered curmudgeon, but it’s hard to hang in there and remain bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when the dual themes of malignant habitat loss and air pollution truncheon me over the head with every trip out of doors. Humbug.
The lake at Sokcho was dead quiet in the haze, with Tim noting more habitat loss since his last visit – a lengthy tract of reeds has been replaced by a kayak dock. A lone Greater White-fronted Goose rested with several Mallards and Spot-billed Ducks.
Doom and gloom aside, it was awesome to bird with Tim. We puzzled over yellow-legged Vega Gulls, and leapfrogged our way up and down the east coast, jumping off buses whenever the harbour out the window looked promising.
On a side-note, on returning to my neighbourhood I saw my first handful of Red-billed Starlings since late December. Perhaps they’re also wandering as the persimmon trees in the area are denuded?
