May 10, 2000

Utsunomiya City, Japan: Kinugawa River, Chuo Park

The upended idea that persists among communities about nature tourism is typified by the following two anecdotes. Starting with Disneyworld , of course! When the accountants in Orlando decided that they needed a new whomper of an attraction, they did a survey and came up with some surprising findings (surprising to them, not us). It seems (shocking!) that more and more Americans want to experience nature rather than be exposed to something fake. No trend could bode worse tidings for Disneyland, a place that actually advertises itself as the land of the fake under the rubric "dreams and magic"-putting, as it were, its worst foot forward and pretending that the corns, calluses, ingrown toenails and offensive-smelling semi-solids are in fact Cinderella’s well-turned, dainty ankle.

So the accountants and marketeers gazed out at the nearby natural wonderland that is the Florida Everglades and decided to put together an attraction that features-tum-te-dum-an Animal Kingdom. In Disney’s own words, they open up to you the "unpredictable world of animals." Uh, right. Put on a pair of 3-D glasses and watch animated creatures from Bug’s Life. Visit Disney’s Dino-World USA. Hang out at camp Minnie-Mickie. Experience nature.

Armed with the knowledge that Americans increasingly want to experience authentic natural habitats, the Disney Magic Staff went about the laborious process of putting together a completely fake jungle tour. At some point in the planning, a Mickey Mouse biologist who had accrued his sum understanding of nature from repeated viewings of Disney’s Tarzan and Lion King , decided that what the fake African Safari Trail needed in order to impart the veneer of authenticity was a baobab tree. Due to technical difficulties, though, these astounding megaflora require a thousand or so years to develop their monstrous boles, and no amount of magic and dreams has been able to speed up the process.

So Disney built one. They built a tree. And the "unpredictable" world of animals? Well, on the fake baobab "Tree of Life" they carved several hundred dead animals-presumably without even a touch of irony. Yeah, those unpredictable inanimate woodcarvings…and never mind that Florida has any number of equally impressive endemics that would have worked just as well and been alive in the bargain: every Disneyworld biologist knows that there’s no real nature in Florida except for that big swamp, and who’d want to make a movie or a theme park attraction out of that?

Anecdote Number Two. At a recent workshop, Fermata listened to a presentation given by a representative of one of the world’s most highly-respected birdwatching tour companies. In the presentation he explained what it took for an area to be included as a stop in one of their tours. For grins, the site must be of "international importance." That means it has to offer something you can’t get anywhere else on earth. Second, it must have "quality accommodations." If it doesn’t have enough hotel star ratings to qualify as a minor constellation, they aren’t interested. In short, they roll out the red carpet for people who have the bucks.

These two anecdotes reveal the single greatest existing bias about what nature tourism really is. Nature tourism is the Kenyan savannah or the Amazon River basin. Nature tourism is megafauna and megaflora that leaves you slackjawed. Nature tourism is wealthy people paying out the nose to be led by the nose in order to see the rarest, most spectacular flora, fauna and natural surroundings on the face of the earth.

To Fermata, the above conception is not nature tourism: it’s nature elitism. It’s a prejudice that the only nature worth viewing is the nature that doesn’t exist in your own backyard. The area that you live in is worthless and boring and your hotels are not, pardon me for being blunt, up to snuff: if you don’t need a passport to see it, and have access to a feather bed after the arduous viewing, it’s not worth seeing. It’s a tiny, narrow, slit-like mindset that only valuates tourism if it costs a suitcase of cash–it’s something, in other words, for the rich. Worst of all, this equation of nature tourism-equals-megafauna plays (or rather pays) directly into the bank accounts of the tour operators from a select few countries. Now let’s see, which countries might that be? Namibia? Nope. Guatemala? Wrong again. USA, UK, Germany, Japan? Getting warmer!

In other words, the local communities that provide the habitat and that have the historical, cultural and biological relationships with the fauna get to keep virtually nothing. They provide the site and the spectacle, and the tour operators provide the bank account into which the tourist dollars are poured. Fair, isn’t it? The examples of this are so prolific that it’s numbing to even try to recount them. All those fancy Himalayan treks are making someone rich. So why is Nepal still so poor? All those multi-million dollar yachts that ferry wealthy Californian and Aussie surfers out to the Mentawais are raking in the cash–why can’t the Mentawai Islands afford a hospital? Or even a regular doctor? Or even a few handfuls of antibiotics to ward off the cuts and scratches that lead to gangrenous infections from which they DIE? It’s a whiny old story on a scratchy old record that we’ve all heard before and would just as soon not hear again.

So Fermata has decided to play something new, and on a CD at that. Fermata’s tune is, "Help local communities put their best foot forward, which by definition is their natural one." If it’s in your backyard and it’s natural, it’s got value. If it’s got value, let’s promote it. If we promote it, let’s also protect it. The Fermata ethic, then, is this: people preserve what they value, and they value what they preserve. The business of nature is local, and it’s green.

This Trip du Jour takes a look at the city of Utsunomiya, Japan, and its environs as a prime example of unutilized potential, of unrecognized natural worth, and of what could be done with a modicum of money and a few fresh ideas. It also introduces two interesting places to visit if you’re out this way and get the itch to do something besides howl yourself hoarse in karaoke bars.

Located about 60 miles north of Tokyo, Utsunomiya has long pursued one of the nation’s most comprehensive and consistent urban uglification programs. In the fall, city park crews scour the city for any tree that looks healthy or shady, and prune it back to a stump. The trees along Fudomae (photo: "fudomae") and in front of Fuji Heavy Industries - makers of Subaru - have been scientifically pruned to death. Excepting the obvious benefit of regular employment for the tree crews, why did the city bother to plant the trees in the first place?

The city’s largest park, on the west end of the city, is regularly logged. The park road is used in the fall for an international

cycling road race and has, for the convenience of camera crews, had most of the timber cut off the hillside. Garbage is freely and liberally dumped along every scenic road in the city. Utsunomiya’s city mascot is the Chinese fried dumpling, in honor of which a statue has even been built east of the station. Millions for dumplings, but not one cent for nature’s defense! In summing up this city’s self-image and its emphasis on natural resources, what more need we say?

A lot, in fact. And the first place we’ll begin is with the Kinugawa River , which runs from Nikko down the Kanto Plain and then into the Tonegawa. This river passes through Utsunomiya and is a wide, shingle type river. On a typical Spring morning you can see any number of birds, ranging from Great Cormorants to migrating plovers to the ubiquitous Japanese wagtails, Skylarks and Siberian Meadow Buntings. I made my way to the ricefields that abut the river’s eastern bank, parked and began the walk to the riverside. The underbrush was dense, but it was just light enough to make out where I was going (photo: "kinu sunrise"). Several wild wisteria were in full bloom, filling the air with their sweet scent. (photo: "wild wisteria") Closing in on the river, the thornbushes and undergrowth got thicker. It literally felt like I was blazing a trail in new and uncharted land.

Like all illusions of discovery, this one ended on a broad path, at the end of which was a rusting car engine, a pair of panties, some girlie mags and a dead snake. The places we discover are always someone else’s hereditary stomping grounds, cf. Columbus. Up the river I crunched along the stones and was startled by a Skylark that flew up from almost directly beneath by boot. I stopped and looked around, figuring that any bird hanging around that close to my clodhopping soles was doing it for a reason. Sure enough, I discovered her nest so perfectly camouflaged that it made me sick to think of how many others I may have unknowingly trodden upon. (photo: "nest and eggs") The eggs perfectly matched the color of the surrounding stones, and sat in their nest with all the daintiness of a baby’s room arranged by a loving and expectant mother.

This whole stretch of river for five or six kilometers in either direction would be an ideal place for the city to set aside as a nature preserve. As things now stand, the river serves mostly as a summer party place, where Utsunomiyans barbecue, dump their old tires, abandon their unwanted cats and dogs, and leave their junk to rust and rot. Perhaps the most ridiculous misuse of riverside occurs not on the Kinugawa, but on downtown Utsunomiya’s Tagawa River, where people openly hunt ducks in the center of the city. Adding the element of danger to that of the absurd, they hunt on a bike path as high school students pedal to classes at nearby Minami High School. Small signs warn path users that "Hunting is in Progress!! Be careful!!" And a small sound truck trundles up and down the path warning joggers, walkers and cyclists to "Please be careful." If you see a bullet coming, duck or run. Apparently no one has seriously considered prohibiting hunting in urban areas due to the inconvenience it would cause farmers who live nearby. I have personally watched these "hunters" blast down five or six ducks and then continue on down the bike path, not even bothering to retrieve the loot.

A sampling of birds you can see at the Kinugawa River, in addition to the ones at Chuo Park listed below:

Great Cormorant, Black-crowned Night Heron, Little, Intermediate and Great Egrets, Little Tern, Pacific Golden Plover, Little Ringed Plover, Green Sandpiper, Peregrine Falcon, Skylark, Whooper Swan, Siberian Meadow Bunting

On May 14 I visited Central Park (photo: "stone stairs"), which is sensibly located off on the edge of the city. There was little bird activity, with the exception of Japan’s rarest and most elusive tree-dweller, the Brown-eared Bulbul. This bird can only be seen between the hours of sunrise and sunset, and with the exceptions of spring, summer, winter and fall is completely absent from the Japanese archipelago. Its annoying, braying squawk, harshly trumpeted from the treetops at all hours of the day caused me to nickname it the mother-in-law bird. Yet, like all creatures that have somehow beaten the stacked deck of natural selection, it is a miraculous animal, easily appreciated because easily observed. (photo: "park wisteria")

Its head feathers tend to stick up, not in enough quantity to give it a crest, but rather the appearance of a balding man wearing a Mohawk. A brown spot adorns either side of its head, and the bird I was watching displayed some ferocious feeding habits. What looked initially like mother-in-law antsiness turned out to be an awesome alertness that allowed it to snatch bugs off from the leaves of the branch on which it perched. Chuo Park is a manicured park (photo: "bamboo arch") and heavily trafficked, getting a large share of its visitors in the early morning, when the park broadcasts radio calisthenics at a volume that doubtless scares away all but the stoutest-hearted birds.

Moreover, the city keeps the park green (photo: "maple leaves")-and unfriendly to park visitors of the feathered and unfeathered kind alike–by literally hosing down the entire area with giant water cannons filled with pesticide. Incredibly, they do this in springtime during normal park hours, when mothers are strolling with their infants and elderly patrons are lounging on the benches. Small signs say "Spraying in Progress," as if this notification will keep the residue from settling in your lungs. More importantly (to Fermata), it plainly reduces the amount of insects and hence the amount of birdlife that the park might otherwise sustain. Dumb signs, however, are a general facet of Japanese life. Another park sign reads, "Warning: drug dealing in progress!" Police don’t patrol the park for the obvious reason that drug dealers are often armed and dangerous. A guy could get hurt trying to arrest somebody like that.

Utsunomiya City’s consolidated uglification program is apparently tied in with a unified Unhealth Advocacy Plan that includes helicopter pesticide spraying on rice fields that abut Sugatagawa Dai-ni Elementary School . On school mornings. As the children walk to school. However, precautions are not entirely absent: farmers benefiting from the free prefectural spraying stand on corners with little signs that say, "Be careful! Spraying in Progress!!"

Chuo Park, for all that, is still a nice haven (photo: "path and brook") to do some dawn birding in the middle of an otherwise embarrassingly and intentionally ugly city. In this respect it is similar to many other Japanese cities–it may not have world-class nature facilities, but with a few modifications (less spraying, less noise) it could easily attract more nature and more nature watchers. And for the visiting birder who’s in Japan for the first time on business and winds up in Utsunomiya, it’s a nearby place where you’ll easily tack some new names onto your life list.

A sampling of birds you can see at Chuo Park: (summer) Japanese wagtail, House Martin, Common Kingfisher, Great Tit, Bush Warbler, Tree Sparrow, Azure-Winged Magpie, Spot-Billed Duck (winter) Hawfinch, Japanese Grosbeak, Bullfinch, Oriental Greenfinch, Black-Faced Bunting, Bull-Headed Shrike, Rustic Bunting, Daurian Redstart

Getting there:

By car

Utsunomiya is a cinch from Tokyo. Take the Tohoku Expressway and exit at Kanuma. Follow the exit onto the main road, "Kanuma Inta Dori," and continue for about 8 km. You’ll cross the City Loop underpass (there’s a McDonald’s on the right), pass the Toys ‘R Us, and then at the next major intersection turn left. That intersection is called Takiya-cho Kosaten. Chuo Park is about a kilometer straight ahead on your left.

To reach the Kinugawa River you follow the same course, but instead of turning left at Takiya-cho just keep going straight for another 7 or 8 km, until the road T-bones. Turn right, then left at the next light. You’ll cross a bridge that spans the Kinugawa, and will have to seek out parking on your own. The best bet is a hard right just after the bridge, onto a small farm road. Follow it back for about 200 m and there’s a place to park.

By train

Utsunomiya is a cinch; it’s a regular stop on the Tohoku Shinkansen, about an hour out of Tokyo Station. From Utsunomiya JR Station go out the west exit and wait at bus stop #13. Get on the Kanto Bus for Sakura Dori via Tsuruta Eki, or the bus for Sakura Dori via Nishikawada Eki. Either one will take you to Chuo Park.

Map of Utsunomiya City: Chuo Park is the green blob on the map just south of the traffic signal "Sakura 2" and north of Tsuruta machi.

To get to the Kinugawa riverside, exit the east side of the station, and take the Kanto Bus at stop #9 for Higashi Fuzakashi. Get off at the last stop and it’s about a fifteen minute walk due east to the riverside. On the map below look for Prefectural Road #121, which crosses the river. This is the area to hike in.

Map to Kinugawa River: On the map below look for Prefectural Road #121, which crosses the river. This is the area to hike in.

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