2025.04.27｜Shenzhen, China

Reminder ahead! This post will be surprisingly long, because today was a remarkably fruitful day, filled with highlights.

I arrived at Mangrove Coastal Eco-Park around 7 a.m. It was a damp morning — the air carried the delicate fragrance of dew and sea mist.

What surprised me was the number of people jogging and cycling along the shore, including quite a few young faces. Today was a workday, and rumor had it that Shenzhen was a city where daily life was consumed by work. Yet here they were, embracing nature in the early morning. With the harmony of human presence, the birdsong seemed to grow even more melodious.

The first to appear was a female Asian Koel. Perched in a grove atop a Chinese Toon, she was feasting on ripe fruit. Her iris gleamed crimson, and her plumage was a rich chocolate-brown mottled with pale buff and white spotting. The first thought that struck me was — she looked like some elite boss from a video game, calm but deadly. Meanwhile, a chorus of “KO-EL” calls echoed from the canopy — males announcing their presence, hidden somewhere in the leaves.

Venturing deeper into the grove, I encountered a parade of familiar friends: Common Blackbird, Masked Laughingthrush, Crested Myna, and of course, the ever-stylish Oriental Magpie-Robin. Some were foraging through the grass for insects or seeds; others were singing their hearts out — likely part of their courtship displays. After all, May marks the breeding season for many species.

Some may find birdsong a nuisance, but for me it’s refreshing — like a soul massage from nature.

Then came one of today’s surprises: a Common Tailorbird popped up less than 2 meters away, singing boldly from a banana plant. These tiny insectivores usually measure 10 – 14 cm, with vibrant green upperparts and rufous forecrowns. The song was unfamiliar to me, and that alone was a clue — this was a species I hadn’t yet recorded in the park. It took some effort to localize the little jumper as it flitted back and forth through the foliage.

It came so close that I had to pull back to 200mm (equiv. 400mm full-frame) just to keep it within frame. I’m quite certain it noticed me, but the fact it didn’t mind my presence at all… was oddly flattering. And that momentary pause — like a fragile handshake across species.

I recorded the entire performance. Being that close, I noticed something delightful: every time it sang, its whole body trembled with effort — as though its entire being was invested in the melody. Such dedication, haha~

As midday approached, I took a break to grab a bite. On the way, I ran into a small flock of Crested Mynas. I managed to capture a few in-flight shots. I love their spiky crest and the striking black-and-white wing pattern — like a flying panda, in monochrome.

By afternoon, the sun grew harsh.

Mangrove Coastal Eco-Park and Talent Park sit on opposite ends of the bay, east and west. I wandered all the way back to the area I had visited the day before. Tourists were beginning to arrive, snapping photos of the sea or sunbathing on the lawn, letting the breeze wash over them. Unlike the crowd, I wouldn’t be here in the blazing sun if not for birding. After all, the scenery here is a bit dull in my humble opinion.

A crowded park doesn’t necessarily mean it’s time to call it a day. In fact, the highlight of my afternoon was just around the corner — a remarkably active Long-tailed Shrike was hunting across a patch of grass.

Shrikes have long been favorites among birders — and I suspect characters like Zorro and Batman owe something to their iconic black eye-masks. I hoped to follow this individual to observe where it might impale its prey — a scene I’ve always wanted to capture. But just as I looked down to adjust my tripod (after taking too many handheld shots), I lost it.

It happens a lot. I wasn’t discouraged at all.

As the day drew to a close and both of my batteries were nearly out of juice — just like me after a whole-day ‘safari’ under the sun, a small flock of Scaly-breasted Munias swept past me and settled on the topmost twigs of a nearby bare tree. It was my first time seeing this species. They’re sparrow-sized finches with beautifully scaled underparts — like little warriors in chainmail.

I had to raise my camera high above my head to get a clean shot, avoiding the tangle of branches. The resulting images were inevitably backlit, but it didn’t matter.

Two Munias, dozing off on a bare branch — and with that, the day closed.