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Journal
Birds 2024: A Symphony of Nature
A single bird rests on a branch swaying with the wind. Even in the heart of the city, nature speaks. As you walk in step with the lives of birds, you begin to notice a quiet calm we've long overlooked.
#Photography#Birds#Nature
Before Sunrise: A Bird’s Silhouette in Stillness
Taken in Baengnyeonsa, Gangjin
Long before the city awakens, a lone bird takes its place on a bare branch. The sky is still cloaked in soft grey and purple, and the world feels momentarily frozen. This quiet silhouette speaks volumes—of territory, of routine, of survival. The first light of day doesn’t just illuminate—it reveals the quiet lives happening all around us.
It’s in these moments—when breath hangs in the air and time seems suspended—that the natural world feels closest. You don’t need to speak the language of birds to understand the significance of presence, of simply being in the same space, in silence.
Flight in Progress: Mid-Air Stories
Taken in Changreun-cheon (Gangmae), Goyang
A bird in flight isn’t just moving—it’s telling a story. A sudden leap from a branch, wings spread wide against the sky, eyes focused on the destination. Capturing these fleeting moments is like catching a whisper of nature's language. Each frame becomes a sentence in a tale that spans sky and tree, distance and instinct.
Every time the shutter clicks mid-air, there’s a heartbeat of disbelief—was that luck or intention? And the answer is always both: intention in the waiting, luck in the timing. The sky becomes a stage, and you’re just hoping to be in the audience at the right moment.
Encounters in the Suburbs: Birds Among Us
Taken in Bukhansan Nature Park (Bulgwang), Seoul
We often assume nature belongs far away, in mountain trails or national parks. But a surprising number of birds live among us—in alley trees, under rooftops, on power lines. These aren’t accidental sightings; they are proof of quiet coexistence. Once you start noticing them, you realize: we’ve never really been alone.
They are not visiting. They live here. Sharing space with traffic and neon lights, making nests between what we build. These birds have adapted more elegantly than we give them credit for, thriving in the leftover pockets of the city.
The Precision of Predators: Urban Hawks and Their Dance
Taken in Gongreung-cheon (Naeyoo), Goyang
Not all birds are songful and serene. Some dominate the skies with sharp talons and hunter's grace. From a distance, hawks and kites appear as elegant gliders, but look closer and you’ll see lethal efficiency in every move. Watching them navigate utility poles and rooftops with ease, one thing becomes clear: nature adapts, even to concrete.
Taken in Gongreung-cheon (Gwansan), Goyang
You feel the tension when one circles overhead. Pigeons scatter, squirrels freeze. The entire street goes still for a few seconds. Predators carry a different kind of beauty—one defined not by color or song, but by purpose and power.
Observing Resident and Migratory Birds in Goyang and Seoul
Taken in Cheonggye-cheon (Jongro), Seoul
Even in one of the world's busiest urban centers, the rhythms of nature are alive. Along the riverbanks of Goyang and inside Seoul’s lesser-known green pockets, both resident birds and migratory visitors find shelter and food. This project began with a simple question: what happens when we slow down and look up?
Taken in Bukhansan Nature Park (Bulgwang), Seoul
By mapping their presence season after season, we start to see not only birds, but the city itself, differently. These observations become layered stories—not just about birds, but about how life persists in the margins.
Birdwatching Is a Practice of Patience
Taken in Ganghwa-do, Incheon
The birds don’t wait for you. They flit by when you’re not looking and land when your lens is turned elsewhere. Hours may pass in silence before the moment arrives—and when it does, it’s gone in seconds. Yet those seconds are electric, saturated with life. Bird photography teaches humility; it asks us to meet nature on its own terms.
What begins as photography often ends in meditation. You start listening more, moving slower, breathing deeper. The camera becomes secondary—the waiting becomes the reward.
Birds Love Water
Taken in Ilsan Lake Park, Goyang
Rivers and ponds are not just scenic—they’re essential. Birds come for water, for food, for ritual. They splash, bathe, groom, drink, and even communicate through movement. Capturing them here feels like being let in on a secret: a language older than ours, spoken in ripples and wingbeats. For those who wait, the water reveals everything.
Taken in Jukdo-bong, Gangreung
From kingfishers diving with precision to egrets wading with grace, water scenes bring unmatched dynamism. Each droplet reflects a pulse of wildness in an otherwise static city backdrop.
Some Migratory Birds Come All the Way from Africa
Taken in Ilsan Lake Park, Goyang
It’s hard to grasp, but some of the birds you see in a Seoul park have traveled from the other side of the world. These are ancient migrations—routes carved by instinct, followed for generations. To witness one of these travelers resting briefly before continuing its journey is to stand in awe of endurance and natural wonder.
They cross oceans and deserts without maps, relying only on magnetic fields and ancestral memory. Their presence connects our parks to places we may never see—and reminds us that we are part of a much larger system.
Taken in Goyang Nature Park Goyang
Birds Are Closer Than You Think
That chirp outside your window? It might be a tit or a woodpecker, not just a 'generic bird'. As you learn to recognize silhouettes and songs, the world gets louder, richer. Everyday walks turn into safaris. The nearby becomes fascinating. In truth, you don’t go to nature. You just start seeing it where it already is.
Once you start identifying your neighbors by feather instead of face, the city feels less isolating. The morning chorus becomes your soundtrack. The view outside your window becomes a scene you can’t stop watching.
Gear Used: Sony A7C II + Samyang 35–150mm, Tamron 150–500mm
This photo series was made using compact yet capable equipment. The Sony A7C II provided agility without compromising image quality. The Samyang 35–150mm allowed for quick wide-to-tele transitions, while the Tamron 150–500mm brought faraway subjects within reach. Great photos are about presence, not perfection—and these tools helped make presence possible.
In field photography, reliability and comfort matter just as much as specs. This gear allowed hours of movement, quiet operation, and focus accuracy—all critical when working with subjects that may vanish in seconds.