THE BIRD FISHERMEN ON A JAPANESE RIVER.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 94, 22 April 1931, Page 15

THE BIRD FISHERMEN ON A JAPANESE RIVER.

j tor a thousand years or more the J ugly cormorant lias helped to feed the | people of Japan, writes a correspondent \of "'My Magazine."' Ducks, geese, I pigeons and chickens have been helping I in their unobtrusive way to feed man- ! kind longer than anyone remembers: but I the cormorant bears the proud distinction of working side by side with man to get his food, and it is the cormorant which furnishes each year a sample of his industry to grace the table of the Sun of Heaven. 0 Kinyo Tenno, Emperor of Japan. The basket sent tti the Imperial kitchen to be prepared for the royal table is filled with the famous Ayu, the "sweet fish" of Pacific-flowing streams. Some people call them fragrant fish, others speak of them as year fish, because a year is the length of their lives. They are delicate, tender, beautiful, and almost without scales; they have so many good qualities that they are often called in the East the most delicious fish in the world. It is these fish of which a trained cormorant will catch 400 during one night. One of the best-known centres of this strange sort of Japanese fishing is Gifu. on the Xagara River, and it was there that we decided to go to see it done. We selected a small boat for four, lighted by gay paper lanterns in the Japanese style. The floor was covered with smooth springy matting, such as the people use in their houses, and there were flat cushions to sit on. The charcoal stove stood ready with its tea kettle, and a try with a tiny teapot and bowls invited us to make ourselves at home. The flotilla of seven fishing boats set off upstream soon after seven o'clock, while our guest-boat stayed behind to give them a good start. Each fishing craft was manned by four men. one at the stern to pole the boat, one to call the birds and tend the decoy fire, which hangs out over the side at the end of J a bamboo polo, an assistant fisherman, who manages four birds, and the master fisherman, who handles twelve. The clever birds which serve this flotilla arc dressed in a sort of uniform. Each has a ring fitted at the base of his large pouch. In addition, it wears a jacket made of hempen string; this fits snugly about ,his body, and is attached to a long cord, in order that he may be lifted from the water without j hurting him. While the fishing craft were making] their way up the river, we amused our- j selves in our festive boat setting off fireworks. Sky rockets, Roman candles, j Catherine wheels, paper lanterns, star- j light, all given back from the rippling j water, made it a lovely scene. We left! at eight o'clock to be poled skilfully (though sometimes perilously) up the | swift Xagara, to meet at length the fishing crews as they sped back down- | stream in.full activity. From a distance' a great festival of fire seemed to move | upon us, for all the pole-end braziers j were brightly burning to attract the fish, and their images were endlessly multiplied in the dark water. Soon we could see the birds at work, darting here and there, diving and coming up with a fish, swallowing it. looking about, ducking under, coming up again with a larger fish, disappearing again. When a bird's pouch is full, he goes to the side of the boat and calls to his master to lift him out. The master gives him the full attention of his right hand, managing the other eleven birds with his left. He pulls the bird ill, deftly applies his fingers to the pouch to empty it, and lifts the bird into the : water again. Eighty times an evening '

this attention is required by each bird so, although it is the cormorants which do the actual fishing, the masters arc by no means idle. Their dexterity excites almost as much enthusiasm among the onlookers as does the remarkable behaviour of the cormorant. The birds apparently love their work, or they love the distinction which comes to them for their skill. They like to be made much of, and praised: they have a pride in their calling. They have a keen sense of professional etiquette, and anyone who violates it creates chaos. Each bird has his special place to sit in when not on duty, and each one must be put in the water in his proper turn. Should an absent-minded master lower the wrong bird first, the others will squawk and flap their winds until the bird has been hauled out and the right bird sent down. The birds work for about three hours a night, from May till October. Nights when the moon rides clear and full in the sky are holidays, as the tires cannot then shine brightly enough to stir the curiosity of the fish. When the evening's work is done, in case any bird has been too intent on his master's business to have satisfied his own hunger, food is offered the flock. Then they are put in large baskets for the night. The masters go round when all is quiet to see that their winged helpers want for nothing, arid to tuck them in with mosquito netting in order that they may enjoy the sleep they have earned so well. The cormorants reward this care with extraordinary devotion to their work, a devotion kept alive partly by a just pride in their own accomplishments. Each bird in a season supplies the shortlegged dinner tables of Japan with some 5000 fish, and gains its own lining besides—no mean accomplishment for man or bird in any land. |