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June. 2003, Xene #34
Hokkaido's Castaway Islands
Teuri and Yagishiri offer isolation, rare seabirds
By Carey Paterson |
In the movie Castaway, Tom Hanks is stranded in the
sunny Pacific and survives on fish and coconuts. Substitute
snow for sun, the Japan Sea for the Pacific Ocean, and
kelp for coconuts and you have Teuri and Yagishiri islands,
two dots of splendid isolation off Hokkaido's western
coast.
These volcanic islands are much more solitary than their
larger island cousins to the north, Rebun and Rishiri,
but unlike Tom Hanks' castaway, you needn't worry about
bringing a volleyball for company. Teuri and Yagishiri
are home to some of the greatest populations of seabirds
anywhere in Japan, including the world's largest colony
of rhinoceros auklet.
I traveled there last August, sailing from Haboro, the
closest town on the mainland. While waiting for the
ferry, I visited the Hokkaido Seabird Center, an eight-minute
walk from Haboro Port. It's just the place to familiarize
yourself with the local seabirds. I listened to recorded
birdcalls, learned to identify the species that breed
on the islands, and saw a large-scale relief model of
Teuri.
 Some
exhibits focus on the common murre, known locally as
the ororon-cho, a name that comes from its call of "ororon,
ororo" and is an improvement on the standard Japanese
name, umigarasu, or "sea crow." This bird
is even rarer than the rhinoceros auklet is abundant.
Only a dozen common murre nest in this country, all
of them on Teuri Island.
The murre's downfall was precipitous. Tens of thousands
once bred here, and about 8,000 survived into the 1960s.
Gill net fishing took its toll in the '60s and '70s.
Murres are particularly vulnerable to such nets, because
unlike seagulls, which feed at the surface or scavenge
on land, murres dive for their food. Predation by rats
and cats brought by humans also has taken a toll. Colonies
have dwindled to scattered individuals, well below the
critical mass needed for collective defense. Murres
can repel attacks by other birds only when they enjoy
the safety of large numbers. The decimated populations
are easy targets for slaty-backed gulls and crows, according
to Koji Ono, a biologist at the Hokkaido Seabird Center.
The only bright news is that the species survives elsewhere,
thriving in Canada, Sakhalin and the Kurile Islands.
As secretary-general of the Japan Seabird Group, Mr.
Ono is involved in efforts to save the few common murre
that remain in Japan. He is working on a project to
place decoys and to broadcast the birds' distinctive
call. Although murres breed in captivity, Mr. Ono says
a stable environment must be secured if the Teuri populations
are to be saved.
Casting Off
 After
the Hokkaido Bird Center, I boarded the ferry for the
28-kilometer voyage to Teuri and Yagishiri, arriving
90 minutes later in Teuri. (The ferry sails via Yagishiri,
so you can disembark at either island.) Although the
islands are too far to be seen from the mainland, they
are only 4 km apart, within clear view of each other.
On approach, Teuri looks like a thin slice of cake lying
on its side. At the butt end, instead of icing, craggy
cliffs soar 130 meters high. Their inaccessibility makes
them perfect for nesting. It is cliffs like these, and
the islands' location in the warm, food-rich, northward
current, that has created the ideal environment for
seabirds.
A four-minute walk from Teuri Port brings me to the
Island Seabird Information Center. It has little in
the way of information, but the photos by Takaki Terasawa
are worth the 300-yen admission. Some of these show
hunting seabirds plunging arrow-like into the sea, taken
from below the surface. I couldn't help but wonder how
long Terasawa must have waited underwater to get these
incredible shots.
At the other end of Teuri is Aka-iwa, a pillar of stone
that marks the densest seabird nesting grounds. Boat
tours bring birdwatchers around this rock, or you can
take a bus to the cliff top for an aerial view. Sunset
is the most popular time, when rhinoceros auklets return
in swarms from their ocean hunts. Spotted seals congregate
here in winter, but for birds the peak season is July.
After that, many migrate elsewhere. The human travelers
do, too, so your sightseeing activities may be cut short
if you visit in late August or September. As the sea
kayaking season had already come to an end, I set off
for Yagishiri.
 If
Teuri and Yagishiri are similar in profile, their ground
cover couldn't be more different. Whereas much of Teuri
is covered with short sasa bamboo, Yagishiri offers
a less stark, more varied terrain. Mr. Ono attributes
the difference to land use policies at the start of
the Meiji era (1867 - 1912). "It is thought that
both islands were covered with forest vegetation, but
in the period of herring fishery, people cut down most
of this," he notes. "Logging was restricted
in 1880 on Yagishiri Island, but not on Teuri. Four
years later, Teuri had few trees."
Instead of touring Yagishiri by bus or car, I decided
to rent a bicycle at the port. It was the best decision
of my trip. I pedaled with the sun on my face, the sea
breeze in my hair, and water on every side. I passed
through pastures of Suffolk sheep, whose meat is so
prized that it graces only the poshest Tokyo tables.
I passed coastlines where sea urchin fishermen worked
their narrow, flat-bottomed boats, leaning over the
side, peering through glass-bottomed tubes, then plucking
the urchins from their kelpy hideouts using a long pole.
I also passed through virgin forests of yew in Yagishiri's
quasi-national park. These old stands suggested what
the island must have looked like when the first people
arrived. In the early August sun, the woods were a shimmering
frenzy of white moths. Aquamarine beetles sparkled like
jewelry in the underbrush.
 The
Meiji-era settlers who denuded Teuri of forests like
this one were hardly the first arrivals, according to
Mr. Ono. He says people came during the Jomon period,
in about 4,000 BC. Ethnic Japanese followed much more
recently, drawn by the prosperous fishing industry.
By the middle of the 20th century, the islands' combined
population had peaked at 5,000 residents. When fishery
fell off, so did the population. Now, fewer than 1,000
souls remain.
But if fishery isn't what it once was, you would never
know it from a meal at your inn. On Teuri, my dinner
tray groaned with snow crab and Atka mackerel. The ama-ebi,
literally "sweet shrimp", was served as sashimi.
This delicate shrimp is prized in Japan, a country that
knows a thing or two about shrimp, as it consumes more
than any other nation.
Sea urchin is another local delicacy. In addition to
the usual murasaki sea urchin, a long-spined purple
critter, northwestern Hokkaido is famous for a shorter-spined,
dark beige variety known as the bafun, or "horse
turd," sea urchin. The difference is the difference
between lumpfish roe and beluga caviar. At my ryokan,
the urchin were served split open and still moving.
Aficionados might time their travels for the sea urchin
festival on Teuri, which runs from early July to early
August.
Much as I love seafood, though, I was soon craving vegetables,
which are hard to grow on the hardscrabble volcanic
soil of Teuri and Yagishiri. Odds are that any green
on your plate will be kelp, albeit some of the finest
in Japan.
 As
my two-day trip ended and I boarded the ferry back to
Haboro, I thought of the statue of a common murre that
stands several dozen meters high in Teuri Port. I wondered
if it might not soon be the only murre left on these
lovely, solitary islands.
CONTACTS
Hokkaido Seabird Center (Tel: 01646-9-2080)
http://www.seabird.go.jp/aboutus_e.html
Yagishiri Tourist Information Center (Tel: 01648-2-3348)
Teuri Tourist Information Center (Tel: 01648-3-5401)
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