As Climate Warms, S. Korea Fights New Border Threat: Malarial Mosquitoes 

In this picture taken on July 30, 2024, a solar wind and mosquito monitoring device (C) used by the Korea Disease Control and Prevention Agency (KDCA) is seen between two photos, taken during the Korean War and on display at the Dorasan Peace Park, in Paju, near the heavily fortified border that divides North and South Korea. (AFP)
In this picture taken on July 30, 2024, a solar wind and mosquito monitoring device (C) used by the Korea Disease Control and Prevention Agency (KDCA) is seen between two photos, taken during the Korean War and on display at the Dorasan Peace Park, in Paju, near the heavily fortified border that divides North and South Korea. (AFP)
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As Climate Warms, S. Korea Fights New Border Threat: Malarial Mosquitoes 

In this picture taken on July 30, 2024, a solar wind and mosquito monitoring device (C) used by the Korea Disease Control and Prevention Agency (KDCA) is seen between two photos, taken during the Korean War and on display at the Dorasan Peace Park, in Paju, near the heavily fortified border that divides North and South Korea. (AFP)
In this picture taken on July 30, 2024, a solar wind and mosquito monitoring device (C) used by the Korea Disease Control and Prevention Agency (KDCA) is seen between two photos, taken during the Korean War and on display at the Dorasan Peace Park, in Paju, near the heavily fortified border that divides North and South Korea. (AFP)

Near the heavily fortified border that divides North and South Korea, a monitoring device is working 24-7 -- not tracking missiles or troop movements, but catching malaria-carrying mosquitoes that may cross the border.

Despite its advanced healthcare service and decades of determined efforts, achieving "malaria-free" status has remained elusive for South Korea, largely thanks to its proximity to the isolated North, where the disease is prevalent.

The South issued a nationwide malaria warning this year, and scientists say climate change, especially warmer springs and heavier rainfall, could bring more mosquito-borne diseases to the peninsula unless the two Koreas, which remain technically at war, cooperate.

The core issue is the DMZ, a four-kilometer-wide no man's land that runs the full length of the 250-kilometer (155-mile) border.

The demilitarized zone is covered in lush forest and wetlands, and largely unvisited by humans since it was created after the 1953 ceasefire that ended Korean War hostilities.

The heavily mined border barrier area has become an ecological refuge for rare species -- an Asiatic black bear was photographed in 2018 -- and scientists say it is also an ideal breeding ground for mosquitoes, including malaria carriers that can fly as far as 12 kilometers.

The DMZ has stagnant water plus "plenty of wild animals that serve as blood sources for mosquitoes to feed on in order to lay their eggs", said Kim Hyun-woo, a staff scientist at Seoul's Korea Disease Control and Prevention Agency.

South Korea once believed it had eradicated malaria, but in 1993 a soldier serving on the DMZ was discovered to have been infected, and the disease has persisted ever since, with cases up nearly 80 percent last year to 747, from 420 in 2022.

"The DMZ is not an area where pest control can be carried out," Kim Dong-gun, an environmental biology professor at Sahmyook University in Seoul, told AFP.

As mosquito populations increase, more malaria carriers are "feeding on soldiers in the border region, leading to a continuous occurrence of malaria cases there", he said.

The South Korean health authorities have installed 76 mosquito-tracking devices nationwide, including in key areas near the DMZ.

- 'Disease republic' -

North of the border, malaria is more widespread, with WHO data indicating nearly 4,500 cases between 2021 and 2022, with the country's extreme poverty and food insecurity likely exacerbating the situation.

"North Korea is a republic of infectious diseases," Choi Jung-hun, a former North Korean doctor who defected in 2011 and now works as a physician in the South, told AFP.

Choi said that even though he lived in the north of the country, he had treated malaria patients, including a North Korean soldier who had been based near the border with the South.

Outdated equipment like old microscopes hampers early and accurate malaria diagnoses, Choi said, while malnutrition and unhygienic water puddles and facilities make residents especially vulnerable to the disease.

The severe flooding that struck the North this summer could make things worse. In Pakistan, catastrophic flooding in 2022 contributed to a fivefold increase in malaria cases year-on-year.

"North Korea continues to rely on outdated communal outdoor toilets. Consequently, when floods occur, fecal water overflows, resulting in the swift spread of (all kinds of) infectious diseases," Choi told AFP.

- 'So painful' -

In the last decade, around 90 percent of South Korea's malaria patients were infected in regions near the DMZ, official figures show -- although rare cases have occurred in other areas.

Shin Seo-a, 36, was diagnosed with malaria in 2022 after being hospitalized with recurring high fevers, but she had not visited a border region that year before getting sick.

"I have no recollection of being bitten by any insects," she told AFP of the period before she became ill.

Doctors initially thought she had a kidney infection and it took around 10 days before she was finally diagnosed with the mosquito-borne disease.

Having malaria felt like "I was being stir-fried on a really hot pan," she told AFP, saying it was so painful that in tears, "I once even begged the nurse to just knock me out."

Malaria on the Korean peninsula is caused by the parasite Plasmodium vivax and is known to be less fatal than tropical malaria caused by Plasmodium falciparum, which affects many African countries.

Even so, after contracting malaria Shin developed Nontuberculous mycobacteria, a lung disease that typically affects individuals with a weakened immune system.

"Malaria is a truly terrifying disease," she told AFP, adding that she hoped more could be done to prevent its spread.

But with the nuclear-armed North declaring Seoul its "principal enemy" this year and cutting off contact, as it rejects repeated offers of overseas aid, cooperation on malaria looks unlikely.



This Bird Species Was Extinct in Europe. Now It’s Back.

This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)
This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)
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This Bird Species Was Extinct in Europe. Now It’s Back.

This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)
This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)

How do you teach a bird how, and where, to fly? The distinctive northern bald ibis, hunted essentially to extinction by the 17th century, was revived by breeding and rewilding efforts over the last two decades. But the birds — known for their distinctive black-and-iridescent green plumage, bald red head and long curved beak — don’t instinctively know which direction to fly to migrate without the guidance of wild-born elders. So a team of scientists and conservationists stepped in as foster parents and flight instructors, The AP reported.

“We have to teach them the migration route,” said biologist Johannes Fritz.

The northern bald ibis once soared over North Africa, the Arabian Peninsula and much of Europe, including southern Germany's Bavaria. The migratory birds were also considered a delicacy, and the bird, known as the Waldrapp in German, disappeared from Europe, though a few colonies elsewhere survived.

The efforts of Fritz and the Waldrappteam, a conservation and research group based in Austria, brought the Central European population from zero to almost 300 since the start of their project in 2002.

The feat moved the species from a "critically endangered" classification to "endangered" and, Fritz says, is the first attempt to reintroduce a continentally extinct migratory bird species.

But while northern bald ibises still display the natural urge to migrate, they don’t know which direction to fly without the guidance of wild-born elders. The Waldrappteam's early reintroduction attempts were largely unsuccessful because, without teaching the birds the migration route, most disappeared soon after release. Instead of returning to suitable wintering grounds such as Tuscany, Italy, they flew in different directions and ultimately died.

So the Waldrappteam stepped in as foster parents and flight instructors for the Central European population, which was made up of descendants from multiple zoo colonies and released into the wild in the hopes of creating a migratory group. This year marks the 17th journey with human-led migration guides, and the second time they've been forced to pilot a new route to Spain due to climate change.

To prepare them for travel, the chicks are removed from their breeding colonies when they are just a few days old. They are taken to an aviary that's overseen by the foster parents in the hopes of “imprinting” — when the birds will bond with those humans to ultimately trust them along the migration route.

Barbara Steininger, a Waldrapp team foster mother, said she acts like “their bird mom."

“We feed them, we clean them, we clean their nests. We take good care of them and see that they are healthy birds,” she said. "But also we interact with them.”

Steininger and the other foster parents then sit on the back of a microlight aircraft, waving and shouting encouragement through a bullhorn as it flies through the air.

It's a bizarre scene: The aircraft looks like a flying go-kart with a giant fan on the back and a yellow parachute keeping it aloft. Still, three dozen birds follow the contraption, piloted by Fritz, as it sails over alpine meadows and foothills.

Fritz was inspired by “Father Goose” Bill Lishman, a naturalist who taught Canadian geese to fly alongside his ultra-light plane beginning in 1988. He later guided endangered whooping cranes through safe routes and founded the nonprofit “Operation Migration.” Lishman's work prompted the 1996 movie “Fly Away Home” but features a young girl as the geese's “mother.”

Like Lishman, Fritz and his team's efforts have worked. The first bird independently migrated back to Bavaria in 2011 from Tuscany. More have flown the route that's upward of 550 kilometers (342 miles) each year, and the team hopes the Central European population will be more than 350 birds by 2028 and become self-sustaining.

But the effects of climate change mean the Waldrapp are migrating later in the season now, which forces them to cross the Alps in colder, more dangerous weather — without the aid of warm currents of air, known as thermals, that rise upward and help the birds soar without expending extra energy.

In response, the Waldrappteam piloted a new route in 2023, from Bavaria to Andalusia in southern Spain.

This year, the route is roughly 2,800 kilometers (1,740 miles) — some 300 kilometers (186 miles) longer than last year's path. Earlier this month from an airfield in Paterzell, in upper Bavaria, the team guided 36 birds along one stage through bright blue skies and a tailwind that increased their speed.

The entire journey to Spain could take up to 50 days and end in early October. But Fritz says the effort is bigger than just the northern bald ibises: It’s about paving the way for other threatened migratory species to fly.