A Winter Drive Around Izunuma and Uchinuma Sunset on the Water and Flocks Passing Overhead

I was driving along Izunuma's north shore in my red four-wheel-drive sedan at dusk. Patches of snow lingered beside the road, and beyond the dry grass the wetland opened out. I kept my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel, following the shoreline. As the sky shifted into evening, I couldn't wait to pull over and look out over the water.

I parked and stepped out into air so cold I wanted to pull my down coat's collar up around my neck. The cold air hit my cheeks, still warm from the car, and I let out a deep breath. The setting sun reflected on the water, with tiny birds scattered around it. At first I was watching the shimmer on the pond, but the longer I looked, the more birds I spotted—until I found myself counting them.

But I soon gave up counting. All it took was a slight turn of my head for more birds to come into view. From autumn through winter, Izunuma and Uchinuma are wintering grounds for migratory birds. When I'd seen flocks in photos, I'd thought, “There are a lot of them.” Seeing the birds against the sweep of the wetlands made me feel just how many there were.

When I looked up, the birds were flying in several flocks. They'd bunch together, then spread out, and another flock would catch up from behind. I'd been watching the water, but now I stood rooted to the spot, gazing up at the birds. I didn't expect to be so captivated by those tiny silhouettes passing in front of the setting sun. Holding my coat collar in place, I followed their flight as far as I could.

At the Miyagi Prefectural Izunuma-Uchinuma Sanctuary Center, you can observe birds and plants through spotting scopes. I wondered what the birds I'd spotted in the distance would look like up close. If I knew more about the birds that spend time here, I might see something different when I watched them. Next time, I want to set aside more time during the day to explore both the center and the wetlands.

As the sun sank lower, its reflection on the water grew narrower. I tucked my hands back into my pockets and watched the birds a little longer. On the way back, I wanted to eat hatto, a local dish from Tome. I heard it's made by kneading wheat flour into a dough, then boiling it, and after looking out over the wetlands, my stomach suddenly started growling. I was looking forward to watching the birds fly off and then enjoying something warm, in just that order.