Future of endangered curlew up in air

A mixed flock of Far Eastern and Eurasian curlews roost at a tidal flat on Yeongjong Island, Incheon, Aug. 1. Korea Times photo by Saul Latham

By Jon Dunbar

• Published Aug 13, 2023 8:19 PM KST
• Updated Aug 13, 2023 8:19 PM KST

By Saul Latham

The endangered Far Eastern curlew, the world's largest migratory shorebird, is passing through the Korean Peninsula once again on its annual migratory journey south. In the last three decades, the curlew's population has dropped by 80 percent, largely due to developments around the ecological wonder that is Korea's West Sea, pertaining to the largest body of tidal flats on the planet. In the last 50 years, 66 percent of the tidal flats in the West Sea have been reclaimed for human use. This is in the face of millions of shorebirds who rely on them for survival.

Nevertheless, the remarkable curlew, with its distinctive long curved bill and long legs, can still be seen in Korea, passing through on extraordinary journeys across vast oceans and geopolitical divides. But for how much longer will the curlew grace the tidal flats of Korea

? And if we lose her, what else have we really lost?

On Yeongjong Island in Incheon, half a million travelers fly daily in and out of Incheon International Airport. Just a short walk away from the roaring engines of the runway, the curlews come to roost and feed at critical habitats that were once abundant but now are threatened. Every year, as they have done for thousands of years, the curlews journey up to 15,000 kilometers from the far south in Australia and New Zealand, stopping just once around the tidal, nutrient-rich West Sea, to reach northern China and eastern Russia to breed. In July and August, the curlews stop again in South Korea, on a south-bound return journey. Thus goes the rhythm.

On Aug. 1, this shy creature stood at the water's edge at the Yeongjong getbol. Beside her mingled the equally remarkable bar-tailed godwit, which recently broke the record for the longest known non-stop flight of a bird, travelling 13,560 kilometers over the vast Pacific Ocean from Alaska to Tasmania.

Urbanization and development are fast eroding the unique tidal ecosystems which the curlew and its kin rely upon.?Experts agree that the alarming decline of the curlew is due largely to the rapid urbanization and development around the West Sea. China accounts for much of this loss, as does democratic South Korea which has continued the pursuit of an industrial war born out of its rule under dictatorships. And yet, in a poetic twist, the vast unmodernized estuaries of North Korea still provide large portions of critical habitat for migratory shorebirds.

Much of the reason these specific habitats are critical is that they provide the unique nutrients and protection not found anywhere else. And the reason the curlew stops only once on its journey is that it does not rest on the sea, for it cannot take off again due to a lack of webbed feet. Hopelessly innocent to the rising war rhetoric that shackles the region, the curlew flies freely between geopolitical divides, a symbol of peace and reflection of our better nature.

Last autumn, the tidal flats of Maehyangri in Hwaseong, Gyeonggi Province, echoed with the “croo-lee” of the curlews as they rested on a shoreline haunted by the military violence of the recent past. They had arrived from the south, where, in Australia, the species is listed as critically endangered.

Kim Su-hyeok, an office worker from Seoul, crouched peering with binoculars through a wire fence on the causeway which cuts through the contiguous Hwaseong Wetlands. There he watched the curlews wading at the edge of the water on the furthest, most undisturbed corner of Maehyangri's tidal flats.

In the background, Nong Island sat, for decades the target of incessant, tragic and toxic military shelling practice. Behind on the horizon through hazy skies, the silhouettes of giant industrial architecture loomed large.?

“For me, birdwatching has a way of turning a normal place into something special,” Kim said.?

But these tidal flats are no ordinary place.?

“The Hwaseong Wetlands?are among the most important remaining wetlands in the Republic of Korea,” Nial Moores, director of Birds Korea and an expert in avian biodiversity, told The Korea Times,

“Local NGOs (and Birds Korea) are pushing for possible registration of the area as a UNESCO world heritage site, and have worked on two different vision statements and planning documents to support conservation.”

While providing the habitat critical for the rapidly declining curlew population's survival, along with about 150,000 other shorebirds yearly, the Maehyangri tidal flats were the target of incessant daily shelling from military aircraft of the U.S.' Koon-Ni Range military facility for half a century. The human toll included death, depression, hearing loss, insomnia, anxiety and cardiovascular disease. The ecological toll was also alarming. After the closure of the facility in 2005, arsenic, cadmium, lead and copper were found in toxic abundance in local mud and mollusks.

In the decades since the 1950-53 Korean War, the West Sea region has witnessed unprecedented urban development. About two-thirds of this ecosystem's tidal flats have been lost over that time. The International Union for Conservation of Nature has classified the West Sea tidal flats ecosystem as an endangered habitat.

This ecosystem is known as the heart of the East Asian-Australasian Flyway (EAAF) which is host to the greatest number and diversity of migratory birdlife on the planet and stretches from Australia and New Zealand up through eastern Asia into Siberia and Alaska. It is the home to the highest number of threatened waterbird species in the world, some of which fly unimaginable distances across the globe, including the bar-tailed godwit?and the curlew.

Moores has spent decades stressing the importance of this area. “The story of this area is one that really needs to reach people in Korea, in Australia and along the whole flyway,” he said. Protecting the flyway and its endangered inhabitants requires transnational cooperation.

At present, there is peace in Maehyangri. The artillery shells and twisted metal have been cleaned up and can be viewed at the Maehyangri Peace Village. But across the coastal banks where old military trenches run through abandoned lookouts, a calamity of trash lies discarded. Bottles line the high tide mark along with polystyrene foam and fishing nets. Nearby are office chairs, a foam mattress, mounds of plates and?a KT phone box lying on its side, an awkward chunk of metal and a victim of progress.?A resentment lingers, and the environment bears it.

There are plans in the works for the area. Moores is concerned for the future of this ecosystem and its inhabitants. “The local and provincial government is now pushing to construct an international airport in the heart of the wetlands ― which would be devastating for bird populations locally, and would ―

― have an especially negative impact on the Far Eastern curlew at the population level,” he said.

Additionally, the proposal for a hotel just meters from critical roosting habitat, even be it for eco-tourism, could also prove disastrous for the shy and easily disturbed curlew. According to Birds Korea, resting sites along this coastline have almost no protection and differences in jurisdictional authority have proven an obstacle to sustainable management.?

For now, Kim will continue to follow the birds here. “I didn't realize there were so many beautiful birds in Korea until I started birdwatching,” he said.?He recognizes the complexity and challenge of balancing human development with ecosystems. “I know this is not a simple problem. As a bird lover, I oppose any development that could cause habitat loss. I'm concerned about where the birds will go if they can no longer live in their current habitat.”

The story of Maehyangri's tidal flats are but a chapter in a much larger picture that has emerged along the west coast of Korea over the last few decades. The curlew and vast biodiversity that calls the extensive getbol system home are seeing enormous upheavals on multiple fronts. Undoubtedly, the most serious example of this is the Saemangeum reclamation project, a grand vision and world record-holding image of anthropocentric utilitarianism and environmental catastrophe.

The curlew remains a symbol of peace and freedom and preservers as a non-human creature of inherent value outside the utilitarian measure of humanity. As inter-Korean tension seizes humanity, as military drills send aircraft into the skies, the curlew continues doing what it has always done ― flying.

“getbol,” or tidal flats

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