A Guide to the Study of Fishes, Volume 2 (of 2)

by David Starr Jordan

Cormorant-fishing.—The following account of cormorant-fishing is taken, by the kind permission of Mr. Caspar W. Whitney, from an article contributed by the writer to Outing, April, 1902:

Tamagawa means Jewel River, and no water could be clearer. It rises somewhere up in the delectable mountains to the eastward of Musashi, among the mysterious pines and green-brown fir-trees, and it flows across the plains bordered by rice-fields and mulberry orchards to the misty bay of Tokyo. It is, therefore, a river of Japan, and along its shores are quaint old temples, each guarding its section of primitive forest, picturesque bridges, huddling villages, and torii, or gates through which the gods may pass.

The stream itself is none too large—a boy may wade it—but it runs on a wide bed, which it will need in flood-time, when the snow melts in the mountains. And this broad flood-bed is filled with gravel, with straggling willows, showy day-lilies, orange amaryllis, and the little sky-blue spider-flower, which the Japanese call chocho, or butterfly-weed.

In the Tamagawa are many fishes: shining minnows in the white ripples, dark catfishes in the pools and eddies, and little sculpins and gobies lurking under the stones. Trout dart through its upper waters, and at times salmon run up from the sea.

But the one fish of all its fishes is the ayu. This is a sort of dwarf salmon, running in the spring and spawning in the rivers just as a salmon does. But it is smaller than any salmon, not larger than a smelt, and its flesh is white and tender, and so very delicate in its taste and odor that one who tastes it crisply fried or broiled feels that he has never tasted real fish before. In all its anatomy the ayu is a salmon, a dwarf of its kind, one which our ancestors in England would have called a "samlet." Its scientific name is Plecoglossus altivelis. Plecoglossus means plaited tongue, and altivelis, having a high sail; for the skin of the tongue is plaited or folded in a curious way, and the dorsal fin is higher than that of the salmon, and one poetically inclined might, if he likes, call it a sail. The teeth of the ayu are very peculiar, for they constitute a series of saw-edged folds or plaits along the sides of the jaws, quite different from those of any other fish whatsoever.

In size the ayu is not more than a foot to fifteen inches long. It is like a trout in build, and its scales are just as small. It is light yellowish or olive in color, growing silvery below. Behind its gills is a bar of bright shining yellow, and its adipose fin is edged with scarlet. The fins are yellow, and the dorsal fin shaded with black, while the anal fin is dashed with pale red.

So much for the river and the ayu. It is time for us to go afishing. It is easy enough to find the place, for it is not more than ten miles out of Tokyo, on a fine old farm just by the ancient Temple of Tachikawa, with its famous inscribed stone, given by the emperor of China.

At the farmhouse, commodious and hospitable, likewise clean and charming after the fashion of Japan, we send for the boy who brings our fishing-tackle.

They come waddling into the yard, the three birds with which we are to do our fishing. Black cormorants they are, each with a white spot behind its eye, and a hoarse voice, come of standing in the water, with which it says y-eugh whenever a stranger makes a friendly overture. The cormorants answer to the name of Ou, which in Japanese is something like the only word the cormorants can say. The boy puts them in a box together and we set off across the drifted gravel to the Tamagawa. Arrived at the stream, the boy takes the three cormorants out of the box and adjusts their fishing-harness. This consists of a tight ring about the bottom of the neck, of a loop under each wing, and a directing line.

Two other boys take a low net. They drag it down the stream, driving the little fishes—ayu, zakko, haë, and all the rest—before it. The boy with the cormorants goes in advance. The three birds are eager as pointer dogs, and apparently full of perfect enjoyment. To the right and left they plunge with lightning strokes, each dip bringing up a shining fish. When the bird's neck is full of fishes down to the level of the shoulders, the boy draws him in, grabs him by the leg, and shakes him unceremoniously over a basket until all the fishes have flopped out.