Weaving Dramas in the Snow

A pair of red-crowned cranes waltz in the snow in perfect synchronisation proclaiming their union.

The never-ending snow has sapped colours and vibrancy from everything imaginable within view. Even the trees are rendered into a clump of blurry shadows in a distance. Then a pair of red-crowned cranes appear and start walking in tandem exchanging calls in perfect duet.

‘This is it.’ I feel instantaneously. This looks like the opening of an opera. I focus on keeping my frozen index finger pressed tightly on the shutter button never wanting to miss even a single frame.

Welcome to Tsurui village, Hokkaido, that hosts thousands of red-crowned cranes in tough winter months each year for conservation.

I have come to this part of Hokkaido, wanting to see the landscapes and scenes that must have inspired numerous painters and artists from the bygone era. I hope by doing so I can find out more about the roots of my Japanese aesthetics and identify where my influences have come from so that I can be more aware of them when photographing in the future.

Flying solo at dusk.

A family of red-crowned cranes flying through the heavy snow.

The red-crowned cranes or tancho as they are called in Japan, have captured the imagination of Japanese artists and artisans for many centuries. Growing up, I saw plenty of traditional paintings and wall coverings adorned by the crane, which must have originally been inspired by China where the red-crowned crane symbolised longevity and immortality. Their appeal seems to have been classless, as supported by the existence of such widely-known Japanese folklore as ‘The Grateful Crane’ in which the injured crane rescued by the main male character later transforms itself into a human body to marry the man and starts weaving exquisite textiles using its own feathers to return the favour.

Even in modern times, the crane is still deeply etched in the Japanese psyche as something that represents such virtues as self-sacrifice, faithfulness, and devotion. Although the true reason is unknown, it cannot be a pure coincidence that Japan’s flag carrier, Japan Airlines, has long adopted a corporate logo that is based on a motif of the red-crowned crane eased into the shape of the rising sun. The most commonly associated shape of origami is that of the red-crowned crane despite it being not the easiest to make.

An invitation to dance.

When one is presented with so many facts and anecdotal evidence to indicate the strong love affair the Japanese seem to have had with this magnificent bird, one can be fooled into thinking there was never a time when it was absent from its landscape. Actually there was.

They were driven to extinction in the late 19th century as a result of persecution and it was only in 1924 when ten or so of wild red-crowned cranes were spotted in the Kushiro Marsh a real effort began in the history of wildlife conservation to protect the red-crowned cranes by feeding them dent corns to help them through the tough winter months of Hokkaido, the northernmost island of Japan. Even today the supplementary feeding carries on at Tsurui Ito Tancho Crane Sanctuary which attracts many passionate birders and wildlife photographers from all over the world.

The feeding time at Tsurui Ito Tancho Crane Sanctuary, Tsurui Village, Hokkaido.

Families and couples start arriving in time for the feeding frenzy.

As the meal time approaches, more cranes start to arrive at the same spot, creating a rife condition for confrontations, quarrels, and fights. This trip provided the first opportunity for me to observe them for real and there were moments where I felt I was somewhat betrayed by the common preconceptions I had of them. For example, instead of being silent, elegant, and patient, the cranes, especially when on the ground, were very vocal, seemed irritable and quick to pick up a fight. The most common triggers seemed to be territorial disputes or love triangles.

‘I’m warning you!’

Sometimes, there is only one way to settle a dispute.

And of course, there can only be one winner.

The male strikes a triumphant pose in front of the female.

And their peaceful union is restored. Their stillness is as eloquent as their action-packed frame.

While photographing the cranes in Tsurui village, I was placed under the illusion of watching a stage performance by them playing out various scenes from a book based on their daily lives. Even for a short duration lasting several seconds, the frames caught them switch from loud to silent, delicate to bold, angry to fearful, and vice versa. Their simple yet striking plumage and streamlined appearance belie their lava of emotions.

Then in my rather rare lightbulb moment, I start to wonder if the red-crowned crane ultimately embodies the Japanese aesthetic sensibilities comprising two rather conflicting qualities, simplicity and depth.

The crane’s appearance is ultimate simplicity - it contains only three colours. Yet their simplicity paradoxically seems to intensify the expressions they are capable of delivering through the use of body language which can cover a wide gamut from sensitive and delicate to bold and aggressive.

A siren of harrowing calls - the sign of a committed couple.

Outer simplicity disguising its inner depth - I cannot think of any other wild animal that fits the bill so perfectly than the red-crowned cranes. In this sense, it makes my heart warm when I learn that as a wild bird, they are given a special protection status as a national treasure.

However, they are not free from risks.

Particularly from the risk of habitat loss. To protect themselves from potential predators at night in winter, these red-crowned cranes spend each night in a river that never freezes even when the atmospheric temperature drops to as low as minus 20 degrees celsius. You might think this is a natural wonder but it’s only possible when the river gets constant supply of fresh water from the surrounding mountains. Such groundwater can only be retained as long as there are enough trees to hold it there. The issue of fresh water shortage is still felt even today mainly as a result of tree felling for development in the Meiji era (1868-1912) as Hokkaido was Japan’s answer to America’s Wild West. Moreover climate change could deal a huge blow to the trees in the region overall, potentially making unfrozen river in winter a thing of the past.

As I learned during this tour, there are policy-induced risks, too. The Japanese authorities are of the view that the supplementary feeding that thus far without doubt recovered and boosted the crane population should cease in stages. Cessation would not take place on its own - it will be coupled with the future plan to turn the whole area into a more naturally supportive habitat to sustain the crane population by planting trees and plants that offer natural food sources through winter each year. Those who support the supplementary feeding in winter argue that the crane population could reduce to a tenth of today’s size if the feeding stops. In response the officials cite a more effective containment of infectious diseases such as avian flu as another reason for the decision.

The pessimist in me fears that this strategy might be too optimistic.

Of course I would be all for it if nature and wildlife could flourish without any human interventions where we don’t come into contact at all. But that is unrealistic and our livelihoods, especially those of farmers can be at odds with wild birds, and some pro-feeding campaigners argue that their supplementary feeding has had the benefit of limiting damages to agriculture from spreading uncontrollably in winter months.

Moreover, in the Kushiro Marsh where the current crane conservation movement started, there are reported cases of solar panels being built without any environmental assessment as it isn’t required. Naturalists fear that this might have a more negative impact as that is the cranes’ vast nesting ground.

As Hokkaido is home to a large number of wild animals, it attracts many animal and bird aficionados each year from all over the world making it a big business. The word ‘business’ may make it sound dirty, but for the local people it is a very important livelihood and when local people’s lives are at stake, naturally there will be an incentive to protect the animals and the habitat they need. Easier said than done and there is no pleasing everybody, it seems.

This was still an early part of the tour but little did I know that this issue of how to align conflicting interests would be a recurring theme throughout the rest of the tour.

I’d like to close this blog post by offering my heartfelt gratitude to those who dedicated their lives to revive the red-crowned crane population in Hokkaido and to those who still carry on the wonderful work today. None of this would have been possible without your faith, commitment and actions.