I came to Guanting Reservoir again, and a first few shorebirds had already arrived. During migration there's a good chance that every single day brings newly arrived birds here, and carries others away.
In my mind, spring means cloudless skies and a breeze on your cheeks, but today Guanting was howling with wind. The cold wind hit my face like a knife, sometimes carrying sand that forced my eyes shut.
The Eurasian Spoonbills and the ducks were resting far out on the water, none of them quite awake, while a Black Kite flew slowly over the surface clutching a freshly caught fish. Suddenly a Peregrine Falcon came tearing through after the gulls, and sent the ducks and the spoonbills all up into the air.
Leaving the horse ranch, we drove to the other side of Guanting Reservoir and walked along the edge of the reeds. A Common Quail burst up from beside my feet without warning and gave me an enormous fright.
Walking toward a small shallow flat, a pair of Eurasian Wigeons took off, and lifted our eyes to the sky at just the right moment. Cranes overhead! Among the Common Cranes were several White-naped Cranes! They circled above us for a long while before disappearing into the distance.
A Eurasian Sparrowhawk was hidden in a tree nearby, a Hen Harrier skimmed low along the reeds, a Saker Falcon spiraled higher and higher overhead, and a Common Kestrel hovered above the reed beds. To meet so many raptors at once was quite a little crescendo of its own.
Suddenly a flock of Swan Geese erupted from the reed bed, and an Upland Buzzard rose right in front of us. Watching one at such close range, I was genuinely stunned by how enormous it is.
A Common Quail had drawn us to a big stretch of wild grass. Suddenly, two Common Pheasants somewhere ahead were flushed by something, and then came loud, pained screaming, a bit like a cat and a bit like a crying child. We followed the sound, and it grew louder and louder, almost eerily frightening. Another flare of wings, and a third pheasant burst up. Then two dark shapes shot from beneath our feet into the reeds: two Leopard Cats!! They were so fast that my camera was still aimed at the flushed pheasant, and before I could even lower it they were gone! My classmate Gu, with quick reflexes, managed to press the shutter a few times, including one shot of them streaking across the dirt track! Looking at the photos, we could hardly contain ourselves. Both cats were soaked through, probably just up from a swim.
Hearing that a few Great Bustards had landed at the horse ranch, we decided to go back for another look, but by the time we got there they had already flown, and the spoonbills were gone too.
A few Pied Avocets and Common Shelducks were resting in the distance. Then I noticed several plovers strolling in front of the car. We got out to look: three little cuties, Kentish Plovers. I watched them for a moment and got straight back in the car, because the wind was filling my eyes with tears and grit, and the sand was blowing right into my mouth!
Perhaps those three plovers also thought the wind was too much, and flew across to the far side of the water.
The wind seemed to ease a little, so I got out to scan the distance. While I was watching a Common Shelduck, three more plovers suddenly took flight. I assumed they were the Kentish Plovers, snapped a few casual shots, and moved on. They flew high and vanished in an instant. Back in the car, I nearly jumped through the roof: the plovers that had just flown were Oriental Plovers! This was very likely the first record of the spring in Beijing, and my first Oriental Plover ever! The orange on its breast was unmistakable, and it was far bigger than a Kentish Plover.
Far behind a big flock of Eurasian Skylarks, a few Common Starlings also rose into the air. The light was too dim to show the metallic sheen of their plumage, but for me they were still a lifer.
I searched until sunset without another glimpse of the Oriental Plover. But today I had gained a Leopard Cat, a mammal rarely seen, plus two lifers in the Oriental Plover and the Common Starling. Even without a single satisfying photo, I was perfectly content.
If the Oriental Plovers have already arrived in Beijing, what other surprises might be waiting? I can't wait to find out.
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