[Video] Taiwanese nature writer Liu Ka-shiang: Singapore, an unexpected birdwatching haven

Renowned Taiwanese nature writer Liu Ka-shiang records urban ecology with his sharp observations and meticulous writing. Upon the invitation of Singapore’s Asia Creative Writing Programme, a joint initiative under the National Arts Council (NAC) and Nanyang Technological University (NTU), Liu currently serves as writer-in-residence at NTU, bringing students out of the classroom to observe, understand and write about nature in the wild.

Born in 1957, the award-winning nature writer has published over 60 works, including Markets for Men (《男人的菜市场》), Three Fourths of Hong Kong (《四分之三的香港》), Journey Through Streams (《溪涧的旅次》) and History of Ornithology in Taiwan (《台湾鸟类研究开拓史》). 

Over his four-month stint in Singapore, Liu is taking every opportunity to explore the city’s natural ecology. From Labrador Nature Reserve to Pulau Ubin, and from Wallace Trail to Sungei Buloh Wetland Reserve, he traverses Singapore’s natural landscapes. In this bustling metropolis, he has found his very own “philosophical path”, taking him from the monochrome steel jungle to a lush, green, secret land.

“I am staying in one-north and wanted to find a fixed spot nearby to observe nature. Fortunately, after crossing the streets lined with skyscrapers, I discovered a forest, a pond and a field. In this short five-minute walk, I can feel a cleansing from modern urban life, before crossing into a pristine forest — it feels marvellous,” he says while walking.

The “philosophical path” first passes a nature park, which Liu sees as a “forest”. The pandan leaves at the park entrance resemble a mother with open arms, embracing each child entering the “forest” into a sweet dream. The fragrance of pandan leaves lifts Liu’s mood, dissipating the day’s fatigue.

Following the path, we arrive at a pond. In the centre of the pond stands a striking dead tree, which Liu calls “Starbucks”, a sanctuary for his daily birdwatching. Regular visitors include blue-throated bee-eaters, white-throated kingfishers, zebra doves and grey-tailed tattlers — he has recorded about 20 to 30 bird species here. 

He humorously refers to the dead tree as a “café” for the birds, providing them with a brief resting spot. It is only September when we meet, but Liu is already looking forward to the arrival of migratory birds in October, when many of his “good friends” old and new will gather. As he speaks, his eyes sparkle with joy.

Another “good friend” living in the pond is a gentle green iguana, which Liu has dubbed “Dinosaur”, lazily basking in the sun on the dead tree. Liu initially thought it was a local species, but later discovered that, like him, it is also an outsider. Liu speculates that it might be an abandoned pet. 

He says, “The green iguana looks like a dinosaur, but it is a vegetarian, feeding only on tender grass, leaves and flowers. This pond has a lot of water mimosa, providing it with ample food. That’s probably why it has stayed here for so long.” Two outsiders meeting in a foreign land — Liu feels an inexplicable affinity to this “Dinosaur”.

Leaving the pond, we continue to a hidden meadow. Liu shares, “I often lie here at dusk to watch the birds; sometimes I see cyclists or people heading home from work. Around the meadow bloom purple wild peonies and orange Saraca flowers.

“I found this slow and leisurely pace in Singapore of all places. I managed to find such a natural space in this highly modern city, where almost every subway station has a shopping mall. It’s not likely I can find this back in Taiwan.”

Liu’s perspective as an outside observer offers us new reflections. His works depict many survival stories of animals, including the humpback whales in Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbor, wild cats in the city, stray dogs in the mountains, and wandering albatrosses in the ocean. Liu not only cares for them but also gives them a voice through his writing.

The well-travelled Liu makes a thought-provoking observation: “I am very interested in the relationship between Singaporeans and their pets. Singaporeans have a deep emotional bond with their pets, probably more so than the Taiwanese. Like Hong Kong, Singapore has limited space and a high population density, which helps people foster a very close emotional connection with their pets. However, I haven’t seen much discussion on this deep emotional bond, and I look forward to future explorations on the topic.”

He notes of Singapore’s success in wildlife conservation, citing the red junglefowl commonly seen in the city. He lightheartedly says, “Because of the avian influenza, the children in Hong Kong might only be familiar with McDonald’s chickens, the featherless kind. But if children in Singapore draw a chicken, they’ll definitely draw one full of feathers.”

Despite Singapore’s achievements in conservation, Liu feels that the city’s ecological education still needs strengthening. He gives the example of how otters occasionally invade homes to eat fish from ponds, highlighting the need for more discussion and consensus on how to handle such conflicts.

Also, Liu highlights Singapore’s potential as a birdwatching paradise in the region. He explains, “Singapore is covered in greenery, with diverse ecological environments including coastlines, forests and artificial parks, attracting a large variety of bird species. More importantly, Singapore’s geographic location is advantageous for birdwatchers, allowing quick access to birdwatching sites at relatively low costs. 

“These birdwatchers, like me, not only seek nature experiences but also enjoy good food and comfortable accommodations. Singapore combines these two aspects very well, offering birdwatching in pristine nature while also allowing for dining and shopping in air-conditioned malls.”

Liu believes that in order for one to know a city, it not only involves hiking through nature but also exploring the local markets. Singapore’s traditional markets — known as “wet markets” because the floors are always wet — is another kind of rainforest, and the diversity of ingredients available was an eye-opener for him. 

The well-travelled Liu is thrilled to find peanuts sold with roots and leaves still attached; it is his first time seeing the entire peanut plant in Singapore. The vegetable seller explained that the roots and stems of the peanut plant can be used to make soup, which is said to help children grow taller; boiling the roots and washing the hair in the water could also help repair damaged strands.

At the egg stall, Liu exchanges pleasantries in Hokkien with the elderly egg seller. Upon learning that she has been selling “Chew’s Eggs” in the wet market since young for over four decades, Liu feels a deep respect for her dedication. 

He asks, “Why don’t you turn on the lights?” 

The egg seller replies, “If I turn on the lights, the eggs will heat up and spoil.” This simple statement is full of life wisdom.

He laughingly draws an analogy to share his “happy eggs” philosophy: “Eggs are like people. Which ones are happier, the eggs in plastic bags or those in paper cartons? Of course, the ones in the paper cartons are happier! Would you rather buy a happy egg or an unhappy one?”

While Singapore is not a major agricultural country, Liu observes that the wet market sells an abundance of produce. He notes that while Singapore has limited arable land, high-tech agricultural methods such as vertical farming and laboratory research can enhance food production efficiency. For example, crops such as bananas could be cultivated into more climate-resistant varieties through precise technological advancements. This not only promotes local agricultural innovation but can also provide other countries with technological support for sustainable development.

Liu adds, “The market in every city is a museum of life. Whenever I visit a new place, I always start by exploring the local market, as it allows me to get to know the local culture. In Singapore, the wet market is usually next to a hawker centre; together, they serve as windows into the city. Without them, it would be hard to get a deep understanding of Singapore’s street culture.”

Liu, whose eyes light up when discussing nature, animals and wet markets, enjoys incorporating natural elements into his writing. Through observing flora and fauna, as well as the mountains and seas, he re-examines the relationship between humans and nature. 

He candidly shares, “Nature writing is not just about describing flowers, trees and mountains; it’s a profound dialogue with nature. This kind of writing is far richer and deeper than one might imagine. It is closely related to global efforts for carbon reduction and low-carbon living, making it a highly valuable form of literary expression.”

Finally, when asked if he has plans to write a book about nature in Singapore, Liu smiles and replies, “I write in my diary every day; I can’t sleep if I don’t. During my time in Singapore, I’ve recorded many thoughts on nature and the city. But writing needs to percolate and simmer. It may take three months, six months, or even longer after I return to Taiwan for these ideas to fully develop. I want to organise some new perspectives and look at this city through my fresh eyes as an outsider. I hope I can do that.”

This article was first published in Lianhe Zaobao as “刘克襄眼中的新加坡：恐龙与鸡蛋的自然对话”.

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