In a blink it's late September, and the peak of shorebird migration is slowly slipping past. In fact I've barely been birding since the school term started. Over the holiday, guided by Mr. Li, I went looking for snakes and frogs in Sichuan, and my interest in snakes and herps in general has only grown. Thinking back, I had never deliberately searched for snakes in Beijing; all I could recall was the tiger keelbacks I've lost count of at Guanting, and a Chifeng ratsnake I saw as a small kid at Labagoumen. So after term began I made a second trip to the West Hills, walking some forty kilometers across two nights. As for what I found, you'll have to wait for a later post; I need to hurry up and finish my homework on the West Hills snake search first.
Besides snakes and herps, last weekend I went to the Dazong golf course, hoping against hope to repeat last year's Yellow-legged Buttonquail miracle. Unsurprisingly, it ended in failure. I did see a quail this time, though. A Common Quail...
In previous migration seasons I went to the horse ranch every weekend, so this autumn I had to give Guanting a look too. From what I heard about the ranch this week, the shorebird numbers didn't sound great. Thinking back to the ranch in 2022, when there were Curlew Sandpipers, Dunlins, and Sharp-tailed Sandpipers, Pacific Golden Plovers and Terek Sandpipers, even Red Knots; when will the ranch ever return to what it used to be?
Little Curlews also pass through Beijing in autumn migration. Checking the records, early September seemed the likeliest window, so the odds now were considerably smaller, but it was still worth a try. Since the ranch wasn't promising, I decided to explore somewhere new.
We walked through a village down to the reservoir's edge, where the map showed we were standing inside Guanting Reservoir. Last year at this time, the ground under my feet was underwater... Now an endless grassland spread before me, the sky full of Red-throated Pipits and Eastern Yellow Wagtails flying back and forth. On a dead stump in the distance perched an Eurasian Hobby; a blink later it was a Eurasian Sparrowhawk, and a blink after that a Chinese Grey Shrike.
Mudflat plus grassland like this must have hosted Little Curlews. The flats by the water were wonderful; I hadn't seen mudflat this good at Guanting in a long time. Yet on flats this good there wasn't a single Red-necked Stint or Little Ringed Plover, let alone any other stint. Only a few scattered Eastern Yellow Wagtails fed on them.
The big stretch of grassland and mudflat on the right side of the road was about fully explored, so we crossed to the other side. We hadn't gone far when I spotted a large figure standing in the grass, with the small flaws of a bill a bit too long and a body a bit too big. It was a Far Eastern Curlew, preening, and after a while it started to feed. It strolled unhurriedly through the grass, and before long it picked up a frog, gave it a shake, and swallowed it down. Food here seemed relatively plentiful for it: after finishing one frog it went back to preening. A little later it suddenly crouched down and vanished into the grass, and only then did I notice a Peregrine Falcon passing overhead; it seemed to have no appetite for hunting, just passing through.
After a while the curlew became active again and caught two more frogs near that patch of grass. Whether it had eaten the local food supply out or simply wanted new feeding grounds, it walked straight toward me, passed right by me, and followed the waterline off to feed somewhere else. I searched the area a long time afterward and heard a single Pacific Golden Plover fly over; not one other shorebird did I see.
A Far Eastern Curlew is a wonderful record, but the shorebird numbers were still pitiful, so I pinned my hopes on the horse ranch. Only when we got there did I see how far the water had retreated... The water's edge has been taken over by go-karts and horseback riders, and it's all former lakebed sand now, nearly a desert from a distance. With the water down this far there should be plenty of winter farmland, at least; I hope the ranch fills with big flocks of cranes and geese this winter. But if the ranch's habitat no longer suits shorebirds, where are the migrating crowds going?
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