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Fujian, China - Search for the Chinese Crested Tern (1 Viewer)

Jeff Hopkins

Just another...observer
United States
I recently was in Xiamen, China on business and had the opportunity to make a search for the rare Chinese Crested Tern in nearby Fuzhou. This is a rather under birded site – most likely to the difficulties of access – but one that was quite worthwhile, if not only for the terns, but for the good numbers of other species that can be found there. But a warning in advance for anyone considering this trip: It is not an easy trip. You will get wet. You will get muddy. The possibility of sandfly and mosquito bites is not unheard of. But you will also see some great birds. You will end the day exhausted, but happy.

I organized the trip with the help and guiding services of Lin Chen, who goes by the name of Forest (the family name Lin means forest). He’s a member of the Fujian Birdwatching Society and guides to this site and others in the Fuzhou area. He’s very interested in conservation of the remaining habit in Fujian and is very conscientious, plus his English is good. His email is [email protected] and his cell number is 137-9937-0893.

Forest organizes everything for the day, including transportation, access to the area, a boatman to the site, a scope for viewing the birds, footwear, and a couple souvenirs. The cost was 900 RMB (about 130 USD). You are on your own for lunch, but Forest will stop in the nearby city to shop for food or snacks on the morning of the visit. I highly recommend his services.
 
Part 1 - Getting There

It was pouring when I arrived in Fuzhou the night before, and was pleased to see that it was not raining when I woke up. But as is typical in South China during the rainy season, it was very gray, hazy and overcast. Likely much of it was man-made as well. The temperature was cooler than usual, about 18°C.

Forest had arranged to meet me at my hotel in Fuzhou at 9 AM and was there right on time in an old SUV. I tossed my travel bag in the back and my day pack in the back seat and off we went. On the way to our first stop, Forest gave me a postcard of the terns, “so you can send it to your birding friend.” We also discussed my plans for the evening. I needed to catch a train back to Xiamen that night. I asked Forest if we needed to book a ticket for the train in advance and he said it would be no problem. He would call and make a booking sometime during our down time.

Our first stop was to pick up another birding friend of Forest’s who went by the name of Wendy. Ostensibly she was there to help Forest with his English, but that wasn’t really necessary. His English is pretty good. After a few fits and starts, we found Wendy and we were heading out of town.

Next stop was the airport, which is way out of town, but conveniently near the tern site, to pick up Pete, a seriously expert birder from Washington DC. Pete was on a 6 week business trip to China and had planned every weekend out in detail to target many of the Chinese endemics missing from his quite extensive lifelist. His two targets were the tern and the newly described white-faced plover. Pete was duly given his postcard, put his gear in the back, and we headed for Jinfeng, the nearest town to the Estuary. On the way we saw a couple of the common urban birds of South China – light vented bulbul and black-collared starling.

We stopped at the post office in Jinfeng so we could mail our postcards, but like the superstitious birders we were, Pete and I decided to wait to mail them until after we’d seen the bird. So we then ducked into a nearby patisserie got some snacks for lunch, and then headed on to the river.

After a few twists and turns we ended up on a narrow, stony dirt road through the fish farms where barn swallows flew across the road in front of the car. Eventually we came out on a small landing along a narrow creek where a half-dozen rowboats were tied up. I got out of the car and the soles of my sneakers were instantly coated with a centimeter of thick mud. A hint of things to come. But I scraped it off the best I could, and checked out what was around.

I couldn’t see much, besides a steady stream of little egrets flying overhead, but could hear a lot. There were zitting cisticolas calling from the nearby tall grass along with an acrocephalus warbler, probably an oriental reed warbler. Pete noted a bank swallow in among the barn swallows. I pointed out a familiar song to Forest, who IDed it for me as plain prinia, a bird I’d seen often before in Taiwan and Hong Kong. I could also hear distant shorebirds. The only one I could ID by call was common greenshank.

Pete had gone down to the shoreline where he’d had started scoping the shorebirds. He rattled off about 5 or 6 species that he had found, then gave me a chance at the scope. Terek sandpiper was the most numerous species, though there were also lesser sandplover and Kentish plover, curlew sandpiper, common redshank, common sandpiper, and common greenshank. I picked out a nice breeding plumage spotted redshank, then Pete took a look and found another. A dark breasted bird with white wings flew along the shore and then perched. It was a Chinese pond heron in full breeding plumage.

By now the boatman – Actually a teenage boy - had arrived and it was time to board. The “ramp” to the boat was basically a steep muddy slope with some strategically placed rocks and sandbags. Wendy came over with a pair of plastic sandals for me to wear. I rolled up my pants legs, got out my week-old walking stick, and headed to the boat. Immediately my stick plunged into the mud half way up to the handle. It was going to useless. The boatman ran up, barefoot, and slowly helped me down the treacherous muddy slope and into the boat. The others followed suit in a similar undignified manner. And we were off.

The creek we were on was a typical salt marsh tidal creek. The banks close to the water were bare mud with thick grasses above that. And everywhere on the mud were shorebirds. The first stretch had a few sandplovers. They were mostly lessers, but I picked out one that I thought was a greater. Pete picked out another greater sandplover right beside a lesser for comparison. So I had my first lifer of the day.

Forest noted that it was low tide and high tide would be about 4 in the afternoon. So we had plenty of time to look for goodies. Pete pointed out a broad-billed sandpiper that I didn’t get a look at. Then we found another…and another…then a flock of about 100-200! Pete said he had never seen so many broad-billeds in one place before. Mixed in with them were a few red-necked stints and several terek sandpipers, with some larger ‘shanks, and and another close by pond-heron.

Pete then said, “What do you think about this bird on the right?” There was a terek sandpiper on the shore next to a bigger sandpiper that was up to its belly in the water. Something about it looked different to me, but I couldn’t place it. After I looked at it a while, Pete simply said “Nordmann’s Greenshank.” That was a surprise! I’d figured they’d all headed north. Pete said they remind him of an oversized terek sandpiper – short-legged with a slightly upturned bill. He also said that if you think it’s a common greenshank, it probably is, because the Nordmann’s is different enough to stand out.

As we floated we started hitting the creek bottom. The boatman started to have to work to free us. Eventually, paddling was not enough and he stripped down to his underwear, got in the creek and started pushing us. Pete and I shifted around to even the load. It started to rain, so Wendy started handing out umbrellas. But then even Forest had to get in and push. Finally with both of them pushing and pulling we could go no further. With the tide out, the creek was just too low.

Looking downstream, Forest noted a sandy slope where there was no swamp grass to climb though. He waded down to it, and confirmed that it was accessible. He then came back and said that we could walk up the creek bed to that slope and then from there walk to see the birds when they come in at high tide. The boatman would bring our gear in the lightened boat.

Wendy got out first and promptly sunk into the mud. After fighting to get her feet free and almost losing her sandals, she started toward the sandy bank. I was next. Seeing Wendy’s sandal problem, I decided to just go barefoot. I was going to try my stick again, but the boatman handed me one of the paddles instead. I rolled up my pants again and climbed in. I sank to my ankles in the mud. I slowly made my way to where Wendy was, and climbed up the lower mud, to the sand, and then to the top of the hillside. I watched Pete and Forrest made the same hike from the top of the hill and then watched the boatman pull the boat along and tie it up.

We walked a short distance along the top of the bank to a line of small evergreens. These overlooked a large expanse of sand flats which we could see had been recently underwater. Forest noted that it would be underwater at high tide and that would push the birds to us. Beyond the flats, I could see the river mouth and the ocean full of small fishing boats. There were several little islands in the haze offshore. I wondered if one of them was Matsu, the Taiwanese island where the terns nest, but was told that was further away and out of sight.

It was now past noon, and the terns would be coming in to roost near sunset, so we settled in to wait for high tide.
 
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Part 2 - The Long Wait

I took a rest and sat on some driftwood listening to oriental skylarks while Pete set up his scope and started to scan. I scanned with binoculars and saw a few distant terns flying. Pete said he saw them through his scope and they were gull-billed terns. I set up Forest’s scope, and took a look to confirm the ID.

Eventually, Pete called me over to his scope. He was looking at several white egrets, which I quickly IDed as little egrets. One of the birds was a little bigger and beefier, but that didn’t jump out at me. Pete then said, “You see the bird with the black bill and yellow lores?” Then it dawned on me. Chinese Egret. Pete also noted he had never seen one with a black bill before, but he said that its posture, short-legged look, and straight neck thickening at the base (as opposed to the more snake-like necks of the little egrets) stood out.

We discussed it for a while, with me trying to eliminate intermediate egret, since the black bill threw me and the field guide picture looks nothing like the bird. However, Pete was sure and I concluded the field guide was showing breeding plumage and this bird was still in winter plumage, hence the black bill. (Once back on dry land, I was able to check some on-line resources which showed the other plumage, and was convinced for certain that Pete was right).

I watched the bird for a while, trying to learn the unique field marks that Pete pointed out, when he called me over again. Given his penchant for goodies, I began to hope against hope for a spoon-billed sandpiper, but when I looked through the scope I saw a little gray sandpiper. I looked at the bill – nothing special. So I asked, “What is it?” Pete replied, “Sanderling in breeding plumage.” Forest asked me if it was a new bird. I said no, I’d even seen them at home in Pennsylvania, but seeing them in breeding plumage was different. I’d only seen that before in Alaska.

After a while, I stopped scanning since only the same few species were turning up, and went back to my log for a sit-down. Pete said he was going off to see what was at the edge of the water. Forest suggested that the tide would eventually push the birds to us, so there was no need for a long walk after our slog through the mud. I took his advice, took out my snacks and had some lunch.

Wendy, Forrest, the boatman and I, slowly passed the time with conversation, mostly about whether the tide would actually come in, since the waterline was so far away. Forest talked about some of the other birding sites in Fujian such as Wuyishan and a nice forest park that he also guides to. I got to practice my Chinese a bit and I helped Wendy understand my American jargon. We had an Oriental Greenfinch singing in the trees behind us. But beyond that, things went pretty slow.

Pete eventually came back from his walkabout, with the news that he’d found a white-faced plover, the recently split (or future split, depending on who’s counting) from Kentish plover and a gray-tailed tattler. While I was not going to go on a long barefoot hike for the plover, because Forest assured us that the tide would come in bringing birds with it, I was somewhat energized a bit, and started scanning again. I turned up the usual – mostly sanderlings and the occasional Kentish or lesser sandplover. But the numbers were higher. The tide was definitely moving things our way.

After a while, Forest went down to the shoreline while Pete finished his lunch, after which he joined in the scanning. He found another gray-tailed tattler, which I got onto, then I found a very white-headed plover. I had Pete take a look, but he said it was a very white Kentish. He explained the key field mark from a distance was that on a Kentish the bill, eye-line, and eye formed one solid black line. On a white-faced, you could see a white gap between the bill and the eye. Right after that Pete said, “Here, I’ve got a white-faced plover.” I got on it and saw what he explained, At certain angles, there was a quite noticeable white space between the bill and the eye. I watched it a bit more until a breeding plumaged Kentish puffed itself up in a threat display (or a breeding display?) and chased it off.

It was still only around 3:00, but Pete was getting antsy, so he headed down to the water line to join Forest. I contemplated following, but the boatman assured me that the terns would come in closer. In fact he pointed to a nearby sandbar and said in Chinese, “That’s where they’ll be.” He also said that when the tide comes in, it comes in fast and there was a chance you could get trapped out there. That was good enough for me, so we continued our conversation, this time with the boatman talking about birds he’d seen, a little bit about Shaolin Kung Fu, and of course, whether the tide would really come in. During this stretch we added a pair of flyover far eastern curlews to our day list.

It started to cool off and I gave Wendy my coat to wear. We watched a farmer herd a flock of a few hundred ducks across the flats to a feeding place, but by around 4:00, the flats still were not inundated. Forest came back to get his scope, and told us that shorebird numbers were still increasing, but no sign of the terns yet. As he talked, three Eurasian curlews flew over, calling. Forest agreed that it was safest to stay where I was, and he would call Wendy on her cell if anything of note showed up. Then he headed back to join Pete at the water line.

Immediately after he joined Pete, Wendy’s cell rang. The message was “Get out here, now.”
 
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Part 3 - On The Hunt

I jumped up and headed out to the others. The sand was mostly firm although there were a few softer spots, but I made it out there in record speed (for me, anyway). Forest said they’d had a fairly distant Chinese tern fly-by along with some great crested terns. Pete added that the color difference was quite noticeable, with the Chinese being almost white and the greater being quite gray. But he also added the bird was still too distant to see the bill, which would have clinched the ID for him. I then caught up to Pete on new shorebird species for the day scanning the flocks and finding a dunlin in breeding plumage and a ruddy turnstone among the hundreds of sanderlings.

We scanned the horizon for any sign of movement, for what seemed like forever. I also repeatedly checked the shorebirds for a spoonbilled sandpiper but came up empty. After a while, I noticed Pete had stopped and was looking at something intently. He had some terns on some of the many distant, small posts in the water way back up the river mouth.

He headed that way for a better view with us following, having no idea which posts to look at. When we caught up to Pete, he said they’d flown, but from the color it looked like two of each species. Eventually on the far side of the river we saw four distant specks in flight that were identifiable as terns – two gray and two very white, but again, too distant to truly ID as to species.

We kept scanning, and while we did large flocks of dunlin came in. Those were followed by 40-50 whimbrels. I spotted another tern in flight that, but it was too gray. It was a great crested tern. The boatman thought he saw some terns go behind a distant sandbar, so he went to check them out, but came back empty. Eventually, Wendy seemed to get bored and decided to go back to our old waiting spot. I was barefoot in short sleeves on cold, wet sand, so she offered me my coat back before she left.

I sat down on the sand, scanning with binoculars. Forest and Pete used the scopes. The boatman practiced his Kung Fu. But God only knows what the terns were doing because they were nowhere in sight. It was starting to get dark and we were getting desperate. I asked Forest if he’d ever missed the birds before. “Only twice,” he said. I thought to myself, “Make it three.” He also remarked that he was surprised that the tide was so low, and that might be why the terns didn’t roost that night.

Finally around 6:00 or so, Forest suggested we work our way back toward the more open water. So we dejectedly did, spooking whimbrels, dunlin and sanderlings as we went as four black-crowned night herons flew by calling. Once there we had a couple gull-billed terns, which Forest said was why he suggested we move. We started to scan once more, but soon after, the phone rang. It was Wendy. The tide had come in behind us!

I immediately turned and started back to the tree line. Forest went on ahead, making sure to find a safe path. I followed in his footsteps as best I could. Eventually, I came to the area where the sand had been soft on the way out. It was now under a few inches of water. But the water had softened the sand so much that I sunk in to my ankles. Then I hit one spot and went in to my knees. I tried to free myself, but lost my balance and wound up on my butt in the mud.

Forest and the boatman ran back and managed to pull me out. The boatman handed me the paddle and with that, I was able to make it back to where our gear was stashed. Wendy was there and when she saw me, laughed a bit. I must have been a muddy mess. Then said that the same thing happened to her. Misery loves company, I guess.

We headed back to the boat, as three white wagtails flew overhead calling, to find it floating on what was now a deep, wide channel. There would be no problems getting back to the car. We piled in, and headed back. I heard something calling. Forest said it was a white-breasted waterhen, which we eventually saw. There were also shorebirds scattering off the little remaining mud. It was too dark to ID them, but I suspect they were tereks or broad-billeds, with a shank or two mixed in. I washed as much of the mud from my legs as we went.

The climb out of the boat at the dock was easy. The water level was high enough that we came in at a line of sandbags that formed a walk way. I headed back to the car where my suitcase was, ignoring the sharp rocks, and pulled out a set of dry clothes and changed. I borrowed a plastic shopping bag from Wendy for my wet gear and stashed that in the back. Then we all hopped in, including the boatman, and headed back to town.

So that’s the end of the birding story. I wound up with 4 (or 5) lifers, some of which were fairly rare species, so I was content with the day’s activity. Was I disappointed that I’d missed the tern? Of course! But the next time I come, I’ll be better prepared for the quest. I’ll bring a bathing suit, flip-flops…and disposable underwear.

If you’re only interested in the birding portion you can skip to the end where I’ll have a species list. But in the next part, I’ll continue the story with the rest of the adventure in getting back to Xiamen from Fuzhou.
 
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Part 4 - The Adventure Continues

It was now 7:00. You’ll remember that I noted in the beginning that I was planning on taking a train back to Xiamen that night. The trains ran every 45 minutes or so, and we needed to get back to Fuzhou Station and buy a ticket before the last train at about 10:30. But Forest’s SUV, while certainly appropriate for the back roads of China, was not the fastest of vehicles. Top speed was probably 70 kph (although the speedometer didn’t work, so I couldn’t be sure). So it was going to be tricky.

First we had to drop the boatman at his home in the nearby village. But as we left the creek, and headed back down the dirt road, the front axle began to screech. It sounded to me like a stone got into the brake system. We kept going for a bit, but it wouldn’t go away. We made it to the paved road, at which point the screeching got even louder. Eventually we hit a speed bump or pothole and it sounded to me that the stone fell out and the noise stopped.

We got to the boatman’s house and Forest got out and started to look at the axle. There are no streetlights in small Chinese villages, so he was forced to use the light from his cell phone. Eventually, the boatman came back with a flashlight, and after a brief inspection, Forest was satisfied that the problem had resolved itself. We waved goodbye to the boatman, and after a few turns headed for Fuzhou, doing 70 kph on the brand new motorway.

We came to the tollbooth at the end of the road, which dropped us onto the ring road at the south end of Fuzhou. Unfortunately, the train station is at the north end of Fuzhou, so we had to get across town on the ring road. You would think that on a Saturday night, that traffic would not be an issue. Not in China! Fuzhou was really hopping. Adding to the confusion was the fact that many of the streets are torn up because they are building a brand new subway. So traffic was at near rush hour levels.

After several kilometers of stop and go traffic, I saw the huge neon signs of Fuzhou Station. It was about 9:00. We found a space in the underground parking garage, left Pete asleep in the car, and made our way past the long taxi queue through the masses in the tunnels and upstairs to the ticketing machines. There was a short line there and as we waited I watched person after person purchase tickets for the next morning. Not a good omen. Eventually, we made it to the head of the line and Forest rapidly pushed the buttons on the screen, but it refused to give us a ticket. We ran to the manned ticket sales booths. Forest pushed to the head of the queue, and asked about tickets. The woman shouted back. “No tickets. Sold out!”

Here’s the back story. The Fuzhou-Xiamen train was a brand new high speed service. It had just started two weeks before. The previous slow trains took about 11 hours because they took a round-about route through the mountains. Therefore everyone took the bus between Xiamen and Fuzhou, which took about three hours. The new bullet train took less than two hours and was far more comfortable that the bus. And it wasn’t that much more expensive. Therefore, the authorities completely underestimated the demand for seats on this new service.

So what were we to do? Forest and I walked back out to the plaza in front. Then his face lit up. “Taxi!” he said. Not with that queue, I thought. But he had another idea. The local bus station was right next door to the station. A few taxi drivers waited there rather than at the station queue. So we walked down the line as he haggled with the cab drivers. Finally he settled with one of them. He explained that I was to pay the taxi 800 RMB when we arrived in Xiamen, which by the way was 250 km away. Forest would waive his guiding fee since he felt it was his fault we were unable to get a train ticket. I tried to argue with him, but he would have so part of it. So he put me in the cab and reluctantly, I waved goodbye to Forest, thanked him for all he did, and promised I’d call him for another try the next time I was in Fujian. He also asked that I call him when I got to Xiamen, to make sure I arrived safely. He worries.

We were barely on our way, when the driver handed me his cell phone. It was Forest. It turns out that the driver wanted to pick up a friend of his who was well rested. That way his friend could drive the car back while the driver slept. No problem. Safety first. I agreed and Forest told the driver.

We next stopped for gas, at some back-street gas station. Taxi drivers in China live hand to mouth, so they are not going to fill their gas tank unless they know they will use it. So I slept in the back while he filled the tank. Then we stopped to pick up the friend. And we were finally on our way. I looked at my watch. It was about 9:45 when I saw we were on the motorway. So I fell back asleep.

I was awakened by a bright light and someone calling “Mister! Mister!” in Chinese. When my head cleared, I realized the driving buddy was handing me a cell phone. On the phone, Forest said that he’d remembered that I hadn’t had time to stop for dinner, so if I wanted he would have the driver stop at the nearest rest stop so I could use the facilities and get some food. I told him I had plenty of water, and didn’t need food. I just wanted to get “home.” So I handed the phone back and he told the driver never mind.

Let me tell you about this highway. Someday it would be a good four lane restricted access highway. But not today. Essentially there was construction its entire length. You would travel a few kilometers. Then there would be a construction zone, and the road would zigzag by 45 degrees into two temporary lanes. After a few hundred meters it would zigzag back. This would go on for the entire 250 km to Xiamen.

The next little twist is that late on a Saturday night in China, the only people driving on the toll highways were trucks. Lots and lots of trucks of every shape and size. Most were big semi trailers. Some were chemical tankers hauling stuff I shuddered to think about. Neither of those could make the construction zigzags at any substantial rate of speed. Plus there were far too many small, overloaded, mini-vans with too small an engine for the load they were hauling. And there’s apparently no such thing as a minimum speed on Chinese highways. So these guys were trudging along at about 70 kph. Bottom line: were weren’t going very fast.

On top of that, we were maybe 40 km from Xiamen when traffic stopped. We tried to see what was going on - the two drivers even got out of the car to check - but there were too many trucks blocking the view. After about a half hour, traffic restarted, and we slowly crept up on a disabled truck. The road was full of what looked like bags of cement, Apparently one truck had lost his load trying to make it through one of the diversions. Getting past that we soon made it to the exit for Xiamen. It was about 1 AM.

We headed down the road into Xiamen when the driver pulled over. The cabbie and his buddy switched positions (Chinese fire drill!) We drove a little further and pulled over again. The cabbie got on his cell phone and started asking the other person for directions. I then realized that neither of them knew where they were going. I tried to explain to them that the hotel was on Xiamen island (like the entire city of Xiamen, I might add). So eventually they took my word for it and he headed down the causeway to Xiamen City.

Once we were on the island, he pulled over at a mini-van sitting beside the road to ask directions. There was a couple in it and the woman was obviously drunk. The cabby asked for directions to the Marco Polo Hotel, and the woman yelled back something rude, so we moved on. We pulled over at another shop that had its lights on but it was closed. Finally we came up on a taxi rank, and pulled over.

After a bit of negotiation, the driver handed me the cell phone again. Forest explained that for an extra 30 RMB, I would switch to a local cab, and that driver would get me to my hotel. That worked for me. So I paid my driver the 800 RMB I owed him, moved my bags to the Xiamen cab, and off we went. In another 10 minutes I was pulling up at my hotel. I checked in, hung up my muddy clothes, and gave Forest a call to let him know I’d made it. He worries.
 
Part 5 - Species List

Species List

Ring-necked Pheasant (H)
Chinese Egret
Little Egret
Chinese Pond-Heron
Black-crowned Night-Heron
White-breasted Waterhen
Lesser Sandplover
Greater Sandplover
Kentish Plover incl. White-faced Plover
Terek Sandpiper
Common Sandpiper
Gray-tailed Tattler
Spotted Redshank
Common Greenshank
Nordmann's Greenshank
Common Redshank
Whimbrel
Far Eastern Curlew
Eurasian Curlew
Ruddy Turnstone
Sanderling
Red-necked Stint
Dunlin
Curlew Sandpiper
Great Crested Tern
Gull-billed Tern
Spotted Dove
Oriental Skylark
Bank Swallow
Barn Swallow
Light-vented Bulbul
Acrocephalus sp.
Zitting Cisticola (H)
Plain Prinia (H)
Black-collared Starling
White Wagtail
Oriental Greenfinch
 
But in the next part, I’ll continue the story with the rest of the adventure in getting back to Xiamen from Fuzhou.

Ahh... the joys of "informal" travel arrangements in China! I do like the trains :-O (as I'm sure you do too ;) )

Thanks for all the details of the day. A very clear picture of everything. It should be a helpful preparation for others who travel. One never knows exactly what will happen... but there are people who are quite considerate and helpful as one travels in China.
 
...

After a few twists and turns we ended up on a narrow, stony dirt road through the fish farms where barn swallows flew across the road in front of the car. Eventually we came out on a small landing along a narrow creek where a half-dozen rowboats were tied up. I got out of the car and the soles of my sneakers were instantly coated with a centimeter of thick mud. A hint of things to come. But I scraped it off the best I could, and checked out what was around.
...

As we floated we started hitting the creek bottom. The boatman started to have to work to free us. Eventually, paddling was not enough and he stripped down to his underwear, got in the creek and started pushing us. Pete and I shifted around to even the load. It started to rain, so Wendy started handing out umbrellas. But then even Forest had to get in and push. Finally with both of them pushing and pulling we could go no further. With the tide out, the creek was just too low.

Looking downstream, Forest noted a sandy slope where there was no swamp grass to climb though. He waded down to it, and confirmed that it was accessible. He then came back and said that we could walk up the creek bed to that slope and then from there walk to see the birds when they come in at high tide. The boatman would bring our gear in the lightened boat.

Wendy got out first and promptly sunk into the mud. After fighting to get her feet free and almost losing her sandals, she started toward the sandy bank. I was next. Seeing Wendy’s sandal problem, I decided to just go barefoot. I was going to try my stick again, but the boatman handed me one of the paddles instead. I rolled up my pants again and climbed in. I sank to my ankles in the mud. I slowly made my way to where Wendy was, and climbed up the lower mud, to the sand, and then to the top of the hillside. I watched Pete and Forrest made the same hike from the top of the hill and then watched the boatman pull the boat along and tie it up.

We walked a short distance along the top of the bank to a line of small evergreens. These overlooked a large expanse of sand flats which we could see had been recently underwater. Forest noted that it would be underwater at high tide and that would push the birds to us. Beyond the flats, I could see the river mouth and the ocean full of small fishing boats. There were several little islands in the haze offshore. I wondered if one of them was Matsu, the Taiwanese island where the terns nest, but was told that was further away and out of sight.

It was now past noon, and the terns would be coming in to roost near sunset, so we settled in to wait for high tide.

That's a very evocative account of the trials and tribulations of catching up with these things- the number of times I have found myself wondering how it can be that despite mudflats being a rapidly diminishing habitat around the Yellow Sea, the birds still always seem to be miles away across knee-deep...mud.
 
A nice report Jeff - I've thought every year about going for the terns and never got round to it - never realised the grief involved on-site.

The transport . . . as Gretchen says - its all a bit freelance, but Forest sounds like a terrific guy.

Cheers

Mike
 
That is a great story and the best type of trip report even though you didnt definitively get the target bird. Hopefully I will also get the chance to bird with Forest some day. As a fellow pracitioner of Chinese martial arts, birding, practicing kung fu and discussing the Shaolin temple sounds like a perfect combination.
 
That is a great story and the best type of trip report even though you didnt definitively get the target bird. Hopefully I will also get the chance to bird with Forest some day. As a fellow pracitioner of Chinese martial arts, birding, practicing kung fu and discussing the Shaolin temple sounds like a perfect combination.

Actually it was the boatman who was the Kung Fu practicioner, but whatever.

It was a fun day and a good day of birding. I'd do it again and hopefully someday will.

JH
 
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