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)
