It was breathtaking. I was scurrying on a narrow shore lane, toward its extremity. There lay the vast mudflat, where a thick wall of the shorebirds filled the sky, the land. Tweets— Tweets—. The air was full of the sound they’re making. Sunlight shone, reflected on the billowing cloud of the birds. I gawked dazedly. Because I was utterly mesmerized. Because it must be the last day I witness this scenery — as same and magnificent as before. Here is Yubudo. The place where I can see them the most in Korea. The place where that scenery is disappearing prominently. That is why I went there: to see, and to record, its final grandeur.

Yubudo is basically a little sandy island with a few residents. There’s even no bridge or regular ferry, so I had to take a fishing boat belonging to a resident. Right after I arrived, I unpacked my bag, grabbed binoculars and other equipment, and immediately went out toward the end of the shore lane—where I could see the murmuration, or swarm of numerous birds, of tens of thousands of shorebirds.

At the time I got there, they were still far away from me. Mudflat was still exposed. Most birds were at the end of the sweeping flat. With haze, they shimmered. Then I realized I didn’t bring one piece of equipment, so I decided to go back to the lodging.

It was about half an hour later when I brought it back. The beach had been narrowed evidently. As soon as I realized it, I began to walk faster — the tide had risen a lot. If it rises fully, there won’t be any shorebirds left — I must arrive before that happens. Under the blazing sun, with an especially cloudless sky, I ran at full speed. Heavy equipment packed in my bag, I kept sweating and panting. A few flocks of shorebirds flew by, which obviously wasn’t a good sign, making me gallop frantically.

But finally, I got to the end of the coast. Numerous shorebirds were forming a billowing wall right ahead. As they change direction in unison, they would turn from shining white dots into black spots, and then back again — lit and unlit by the sunlight. It was the same as what I expected: sky and land full of shorebirds. The sound of their tweets everywhere. As the tide rose later, shorebirds on the land became cramped more and more. They covered the land completely.

Not only were they numerous, but also diverse, from just ordinary ones to rare and endangered ones. I saw dunlins (Least Concern —level of endangerment), spoonbills (vulnerable), and Far Eastern Curlew (endangered).

These shorebirds are one prominent kind of bird living near the sea, on the shoreline, or on the mudflats. In the spring and fall, migratory birds pass through Korea. Shorebirds, one of the migratory birds, migrate from the breeding area of the arctic or subarctic area, like Siberia, to the wintering area of the southern region, like Australia, moving up to 12,000km. Some of the species migrate this length nonstop. The mudflats in Korea and China are stopover sites, an area where migratory birds rest during migration, that are crucial for shorebirds. It’s like us going to a rest stop during a long drive. These birds here are also on the way to the wintering area. Particularly many of them are seen here, with a population counted up to 45,000 in 2020.

When the water had risen fully in the end, I got back to lodging, had supper of ramen, and turned in. 

 

The next day, before the crack of dawn, I woke up and went to the beach. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but I couldn’t use a flashlight. It might disturb birds, which, of course, is to be refrained from.

When I got there, it was devoid of any kind of artificial light. Nonetheless, lit by the bright full moon, the whole vast field glimmered faintly.

As the sun rose gradually, I could hear more and more tweets of shorebirds. Eventually, the whole field around me burst with the sounds of them. With blustering wind, I was just standing in the middle of this vast land, or meandering around, listening to the chorus of tweets. Later, with morning twilight and finally, yellowish sunlight, I could see scuttling shorebirds far away.

But no single bird was nearby, which was expected. So, I decided to crawl to lower their guard. I waited, and a few minutes later, birds began to approach, and I could see them up close. They ran, suddenly stopped, then ran again, and bolted down the food on the ground. Some birds even approached too close to me, and, suddenly realizing my presence, flew away. They looked even cuter looking this close. I have watched them to my heart’s content. I felt it was an undeniably unparalleled place.

However, it’s nothing compared to the past. Whereas 40-50 thousand are seen nowadays, in the past, as many as 200 thousand used to be seen. Even today might be the end of this current state, for the population worldwide is rapidly decreasing. Annually, 5-10% of it is decreasing, and moreover, it’s one of the fastest-decreasing bird groups. It might be even unlikely what I will see next year will be the same as this year. That change may be visible. Furthermore, this year, one more shorebird species went extinct, and the Spoon-billed Sandpiper is also predicted to go extinct before long, as only 200 of them are left. To be more exact, it was already predicted to go extinct before 2020.

Then, why is their population plummeting at this ridiculously rapid rate? There are various reasons, but the central reason is the successive reclamation — filling of sea — of the mudflats of Korea and China.

For example, the nearby Saemangeum had been an unparalleled place (more than Yubudo), where about 400 thousand shorebirds were seen — it is about 30% of the entire shorebirds population. Also, 200 of the globally endangered species, the Spoon-billed Sandpiper, were seen there. However, reclamation has been ongoing since 1991, and when its seawall cut off the Saemangeum from the rest of the sea, the whole fields began to rot. No shorebirds are there now. It’s not only Saemangeum that is important. Korea’s mudflats are crucial for the survival of the shorebirds. Many of them rely on it. However, just like the Saemangeum, many of them are reclaimed. About 40-45% of the total mudflats have been reclaimed in Korea. 

Well, it is not totally hopeless, though. There have been hopeful movements recently, of opening the seawall sluice gate of the Hwaseong Lake and the Sihwa Lake. However, it may not be enough. The decrease rate still remained the same or even exacerbated. There’s no sign of recovery yet.

Nevertheless, the solution is simple. Open the sluice. Through that way, the mudflat ecosystem will revive itself. Hwaseong Lake and Sihwa Lake are exemplary cases. They also had been rotting like Saemangeum, but once the gate had been opened and water was able to flow, ecosystems recovered perfectly. Now there are copious endangered species living or visiting there, like swans, eagles, and snipes. 

Must we scrap all those reclamation projects then? Well, reclamation isn’t absolutely bad. It has lots of benefits and advantages. Reclamation has been done for expanding territory. By filling the land, we can make new lands. We can use it as farmland, industrial park, or residential area. All three of them are important, and it indeed seems useful; however, it’s controversial that it may be unlikely neither of these will be efficient nor actually useful. 

Firstly, for farmland, there have been lots of attempts to desalinate the water, which all went wrong. More specifically, desalination itself has been successful. Nonetheless, water always ended up polluted, which, of course, cannot be used for agricultural purposes. For example, eutrophication, excessive richness of water, makes algae, which sometimes toxify the water, flourish. 

Secondly, for industrial and residential areas, it is not impossible, but inefficient. Through filling the soil or sand in the shallow sea or mudflats, reclaimed area is made. So, its ground is made of soil and sand, which makes them essentially unstable. Subsidence can occur easily. Furthermore, soil there is salty, corroding iron rebar. Ground improvement work must be done, and still costly maintenance is needed. Moreover, due to global warming, sea level has been rising. Most of the lowlands, including most of the reclaimed lands, will be submerged before long. 

Lastly, reclamation itself requires astronomical expenses, for building seawall, desalination, stabilization, and construction of drainage and water facilities. For example, the Saemangeum reclamation project has been ongoing for roughly 35 years, has spent ₩6.5 trillion, and still plans to spend ₩22.8 trillion. 

Korea’s mudflats are highly important for the shorebirds. Their lives depend on them. Typically, Saemangeum had been a place where 30% of the entire shorebirds lived. Opening of the gate will not only revive the ecosystem of those mudflats, but also contribute significantly to the revival of the entire shorebirds population. Although reclamation has a lot of benefits, because it is inefficient, and because revival of nature may also have a lot of benefits, it might be better to revert to the original environment they once had. With this solution, the old days’ glory will come back, and these mudflats will burst into shorebirds’ tweets once again.    

 

By Nick Moon