Who says ordinary is boring?
"Wugu is quite unspectacular as far as wetlands go," says DCCF deputy executive director Chen Yung-ming, who has been birdwatching in the Wugu area for more than three decades. The Wugu wetlands have no "marquee" feature, and each subzone is quite ordinary in itself.
Ain't that the truth! When you look down over the whole Wugu wetlands from the roof of a nearby high-rise, you see that they are composed of reedbeds, grassy marshland, scrubland, ponds, and ditches. They have none of the romance of the "Bali Left Bank," and none of the bragging rights of having "the -est in the world" for anything, as Zhuwei has "the largest mangrove forest in the world." Wugu also lacks the lovely sight of countless birds active in and around the water that characterizes the Hua-Jiang Wild Duck Nature Park. "Ordinary and unspectacular" is indeed Wugu's first impression.
But there's a lot more to it than that. The wetlands occupy a lot of space, and cycling is the best option for really experiencing this place. The five sub-areas running north to south all have their own features and ambience.
At the northern end, on the banks of the Danshui River, is the Shuhong (Diversion Channel) Ecological Park. It is the best place to observe estuarine ecology. When the tide goes out, you can admire nature's canvas: flocks of birds searching for food in the exposed sand, or, if the weather is not too cold, tens of thousands of mudskippers pirouetting about. From the high ground here you can also see the Guandu narrows, and imagine far back to the dreadful sight of huge numbers of freshwater crustaceans and fish dying en masse as the dynamiting of the mountains on both sides opened up the area to an influx of seawater.
Heading south from the estuary, there is a marsh habitat created by the SoW. Previously there was nothing here except some grass fields, but the SoW opened channels to bring in tidal water and dug several ponds, and now it has become home and/or restaurant to many forms of life. On the mudflats next to the ponds, at low tide thousands of fiddler crabs come out to strut their stuff. If you just kneel by the pools of water you can see with the naked eye their gourmandizing, as well as the fascinating and entertaining sight of their building "chimneys" at the mouths of their holes in the sand.
If you are lucky, you can also see the impressive sight of a kingfisher, a permanent local resident, as it leaps from a branch to plunge down and snatch fish from a pond, and you will understand why these birds are nicknamed "fishdogs." It's very moving to see a kingfisher settle on a mangrove tree in the water, its body covered with interwoven sky-blue, dark-green, and orange-red feathers, against a backdrop of a grassy marsh.
To get to "Channel-Side Park," you have to go via heavily trafficked Shuhong First Road. Yet even alongside this busy motorway are pixie-like Oriental skylarks and yellow wagtails strolling around searching for food amidst the tiny wildflowers in the sunshine. Seeing this little world, you get a sudden feeling of release, as if the noise and bustle had nothing to do with you in the least. Channel-Side Park itself is somewhat hidden, separated from the bicycle trail by reeds. Few cyclists enter here, so it is quiet and simple, a secret garden for observing nature.
Looking down from the bridge you can get an unobstructed view of the Wenzi Channel in the Wugu wetlands. The water is murky, polluted, and lifeless, testimony to wastewater dumping by factories upstream. Chen Yung-ming says that many years ago the SoW planned to use reeds to cleanse the water, but because the area they planted with reeds was too small, the project failed. The Wenzi Channel was once a water playground for local kids, so the contrast between past and present is rather saddening.
At the Wugu wetlands you can easily observe crabs on the sand as they search for food and seek mates; it is probably the favorite thing to do here for kids. Mudskippers, with their protruding eyes that see in all directions, are very territorial.