The White-whiskered Laughingthrush is perhaps the one species that gave me the strongest motivation to go on a birding trip to Taiwan.

Once a popular cage bird because of its song, it is thankfully less threatened by trapping today. In the wild, it is fairly common in several of Taiwan’s national parks. I saw it several times in small groups, wandering boldly around parking lots and picnic sites in search of anything edible.

The HBW notes, with mild disapproval, that the species “also scavenges around rubbish piles,” which seems entirely in character.

Despite seeming fairly adaptable, the species is listed as Near Threatened, mainly because it is confined to higher elevations—a range that may contract further with climate change. Models suggest climate change could shrink its high-elevation habitat by five to eight percent.

In surveys of endemic birds, it already appears at the lower end of the “common” spectrum, occurring in roughly a tenth of the locations where the Taiwanese Barbet is found, again presumably a consequence of its restriction to higher elevations.

While social among its own, the Laughingthrush is not a major contributor to mixed-species flocks—maybe the other species think they are too noisy?

Its scientific name Trochalopteron morrisonianum sounds suspiciously like it was named after another intrepid explorer/colonist/army officer with a birding hobby, but in fact, it is named after Mount Morrison, Yu Shan, the highest mountain on Taiwan.

Then again, the mountain itself, at least in its English name, was named after a person, specifically, US mariner Capt. W. Morrison, who sighted the mountain in 1857 (or was the captain of a ship from which it was seen, or whatever).

At the end of the trip, after seeing the White-whiskered Laughingthrush in several locations, my bird guide seemed a bit puzzled as to why I was still frantically taking photos of the bird.

Written by Kai Pflug
Kai has lived in Shanghai for 22 years. He only started birding after moving to China, so he is far more familiar with Chinese birds than the ones back in his native Germany. As a birder, he considers himself strictly average and tries to make up for it with photography, which he shares on a separate website. Alas, most of the photos are pretty average as well. He hopes that few clients of his consulting firm—focused on China’s chemical industry—ever find this blog, as it might raise questions about his professional priorities. Much of his time is spent either editing posts for 10,000 Birds or cleaning the litter boxes of his numerous indoor cats. He occasionally considers writing a piece comparing the two activities.