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May 7, 2000 Funabashi Seaside Park, Kasai Seaside Park, Chiba“You’re stuck in Tokyo on business and have a day to kill. Or you live in the city and don’t think you can tolerate another twenty-four hours of the jostling crowds. Relief is a lot closer than you might think…” For a nature watcher who wants to take a few cheap shots at city life, few lobs are bigger, slower moving, easier to take a swing at and fly farther out of the ballpark than the Tokyo metroplex. Traveling into the city from Narita Airport, the physical and mental mantle of gray and grime settles in a most dissatisfactory and depressing manner. It’s easy to conclude that except for house sparrows, pigeons, mis-manicured trees and oilblack rivers that look more solid than the highway asphalt, the city is a wasteland. But like every bad rap, there’s always a crack in the smear, and Tokyo’s no exception. Nature not only thrives in the urban setting, but the city has deliberately fostered a few nature habitats. For birdwatchers, the city offers some premier shorebird and duck-watching spots. More incredibly, they can all be hit in one easy hour-long train ride, and access to them exemplifies the concept of the no-brainer. The stretch begins in Yatsu-Higata, which Fermata
has already written about in the Trip du There’s a small informational facility at the park that has free bird checklists, and although the birdlife is pretty much the same as what you’ll see at Yatsu, it’s one of the few remaining stretches of natural shoreline in Tokyo Bay, and for that reason alone well worth seeing. The stiff bay breeze scatters the diesel choke that’s still lingering in your nostrils from the hike over from Yatsu, and the pungent reek of horse manure from the Funabashi Racetrack that you’ve been inhaling since alighting from the station is blown right back onto the parimutuel bettors, where it belongs. Clam season is short, only a couple of weeks, and rest of the year–particularly weekdays–you’ll be the only person on the beach. The salty tang of the fresh ocean air and the open skyline, uncluttered with the creative miscarriages of an architect on a bad hangover, act as an instant antidote to the city’s claustrophobia. What’s interesting is that you could jam yourself into the long lines and congested attractions of Disneyland, which sits on the very same edge of shoreline a few short kilometers away, and never know there was a horizon, never feel the sea’s cooling breeze, never know that outside the "world of dreams and magic" that a real world of infinitely greater magic existed right there in front of your face. The old proverb rings true, that before you can see, you first have to want to open your eyes… One advantage that Funabashi Seaside Park has over Yatsu is that it’s natural, and whereas Yatsu walls you in from the surrounding urban uglification, Funabashi frees you from it. Fermata met an engaging and knowledgeable South African birder along the way, Mr. Ian Smith (no relation to the former Prime Minister of Rhodesia), who quickly pointed out a Bar-tailed Godwit, as well as the usual assortment of plovers and turnstones feeding in the food-rich mud produced by ebb tide. At the west end of the beach is a rock jetty that provides a good elevated site for viewing the flats with a spotting scope in the afternoon, when the sun is at your back. A pair of Little Terns put on a dazzling show for us as we stood on the jetty, hovering a few feet in front of our faces as they scanned the water, plummeted onto their prey, and ate their fill. Whereas Yatsu is strictly for those who want to watch birds, a prime advantage Funabashi offers is that if your outing includes children–a species of animal famous for having no interest whatsoever in birdwatching–with swim togs, a pail and sand shovel they can cavort, excavate and empire-build along the expanse of shallow, briny mud. You’re advised not to go too far out in the bay, though, because it’s also a haven for stingrays. The signs that warn of their presence are definitely not kidding. From Funabashi the best way back to the Keiyo Line, which takes you to Kasai Seaside Park, is on foot. It’s a solid thirty-minute hike, but is ultimately faster and unquestionably cheaper than the bus. On the way to Kasai keep your eyes trained out towards the bay. A couple of stops after you get on the train you’ll notice a long stretch of concrete wharf. Get off at the next stop if you’re doing this route in the winter, and walk to the bayside. The wharf faces south, and provides a great windscreen for wintering ducks seeking shelter from the north wind.
From Funabashi continue in the direction of Tokyo until you come to Kasai Rinkai Koen Station. This two hundred acre, billion-dollar park was built with a sliver of the mountain of money that Tokyo got when it sold off the reclaimed bay land to corporations and individuals. The park’s central monstrosity is a massive aquarium, so if you like paying to watch caged animals swim in circles, this is one of the best places of its kind. A few years ago the tuna developed abnormal outgrowths on the sides of their heads. These were diagnosed as stress-related; apparently wild schools of tuna are not normally surrounded by thousands of pointing, gaping, yowling, staring humans. Of course it’s easy to point the finger, but the urge to criticize has to be kept in perspective. As tremendously valuable real estate in the heart of the big city, multiuse facilities are unavoidable, and the fact that any provision at all has been made for avifauna is something to profoundly appreciate, no matter what other gimmicks and gewgaws surround it. Stress-related illnesses from overcrowding are proverbial among Tokyo’s captive human residents–why should it be any different for the captive fish? All you have to do to escape the crowds that inundate this park on the weekend is bear to the left. This leads to the bird habitat, which is as vacant as the other central attraction is packed to overflowing. The bird habitat gets about 150,000 users annually; the total park closer to two million. It costs almost fifteen million dollars to run, with the birding facility costing about $300,000–and the whole shebang’s a money loser. Why? The director of the birding facility explained it the same way that all nature facilities explain their financial hemorrhages: "We aren’t here to make money. We’re a park." This is good as far as it goes, but later in the conversation the same lament arose that has arisen with every other facility in Japan that Fermata has spoken with: "The city doesn’t have enough money to keep pace with our maintenance costs. We’re in a budget crisis." In other words, we weren’t set up to make money, and it’s killing us. The bird habitat consists of two ponds, an upper freshwater one and a lower saltwater pond into which it drains. Pest vegetation has to be cleaned out at an annual cost of $80,000. How to drive down maintenance costs is the number one problem for the facility’s survival. Ecological pressures indicate that in the near future Kasai’s maintenance costs will be anything but low, however. Although there is currently no problem with supplying the upper pond with freshwater, a prerequisite for attaining the proper mix of brackish water in the lower pond, runoff patterns may threaten the system in the near future. The pond system has been carefully designed with surrounding vegetation that filters freshwater rain into the upper pond. Any significant changes in rainfall or water quality will require modifications of an extensive and expensive sort. The park may not have been built to make money, but if it doesn’t develop that skill there may one day be no park at all, or at the very most, one greatly degraded in quality–quality for the birders, and quality for the birds. Moreover, as Fermata sees it, Kasai is sitting in the catbird seat. Imagine having almost two million customers with loaded wallets who are eager to spend, and not being able figure out a way to turn a profit! It would take very little in the way of strategic planning to devise ways for Kasai to make money. But before you can see, … The bird habitat is a fantastic wintering site for ducks; with a carrying capacity of about 100,000 birds, Kasai is a small avian paradise stuck right in the heart–or at the edge–of Tokyo. The birding director said that the site has gone from less than a hundred verified species eight years ago to more than one hundred and eighty. Part of that is due to more birdwatchers and hence more sightings, but he’s convinced that more birds and more types of birds have come to rely on the facility. Unlike Yatsu, where birders get right up next
to the animals and crosshair them in their giant scopes, Kasai has a fantastic
series of blinds that completely obscures the viewer from the viewed.
This nature voyeurism doesn’t disturb the sensitive animals, and
it gives the watcher a number of different perspectives from which to
look. A gorgeous pair of Black-winged Stilts Kasai also has an observation center equipped with scopes and meeting rooms. The periphery of the center is outdoors and you get a great view of the two ponds. Everything is free, including entry to the park itself. The only place you’ll get stuck with a nasty entrance fee is at the gates of the fish prison. All of this nature is right there in the middle of the cement morass, a few short minutes from Tokyo station. If you spend your day partaking of the sights and using the facilities, you’ll have easily walked for seven or eight hours, and the velour seats of the return train to Tokyo will feel like the world’s finest luxury recliner. Getting there:By car: Not recommended. Neither place is easy to get to and neither place has parking. By train: Take the Keiyo Line from Tokyo Station to Minami Funabashi Station, follow the signs or ask the station employees how to get to Yatsu. From Yatsu you can get to Funabashi Seaside Park by catching the bus for Tsudanuma Station. The bus stop is in front of Tsudanuma High School, across the street from Yatsu. At Tsudanuma Station take the Sobu Line to Funabashi Station, go out the Minami Exit, follow the main street around to your left and after about two hundred meters you’ll be at the bus stop for the Funabashi Seaside Park Bus. In Japanese it’s called Funabashi Rinkai Koen. Many people have never heard of this park and think you’re trying to get to Kasai Rinkai Koen, which is much more well-known. Insist on Funabashi if they try to direct you elsewhere. The better alternative to reaching Funabashi is just to ask directions at the Yatsu birding center and hoof it. From Funabashi Seaside Park just go straight out the park’s exit. The road will T-bone; go left and it turns into a broad thoroughfare. This one T-bones, too; turn right. Walk about twenty minutes and you’ll come to the Keiyo train line. The station is to your left. Get on the train in the direction of Tokyo and alight at Kasai Rinkai Koen Station. You’re there. Trip du Jour, May 7, 2000
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