A Fisherman's Tale

If you just renewed your membership to the WWF or PETA, this enty may go against your grain, but it details a fascinating practice used for centuries on the Lijang and Yulong Rivers (and in Japan). On the eve before Jerry arranged my escort out of town, I went to watch the local fishermen in action. Sort of like watching paint dry, watching people fish was not my cup of Chinese tea, however, this excursion promised to be unlike any I had seen. On that basis alone, I signed up for the nighttime venture.

Around 8 p.m. I boarded a small outboard boat with Benny and we navigated our way up river where we were joined by a fisherman on a bamboo boat with six Cormorants. What is a Corcormant you ask? My question exactly. For the villagers living along the river, the Cormorant is a fisherman’s best friend. There’s no need for a fishing pole, bait and a motor boat to reel in your catch of the day, rather the Cormorant will deliver the catch straight to your waiting basket.

The Cormorant comes fully equipped with a natural instinct for plucking fish out of the river, usually for its meal. As we sat off the stern of the raft, the birds jumped off the raft into the water and began diving immediately as if performing in a trained circus act. Head first, tail feathers last and swimming up river, the Cormorants dove for twenty minutes as we motored alongside the bamboo raft closely pursuing the fishing fowl. Surfacing about every thirty seconds, many times the birds would appear with fish, three or four inches in length halfway in their beaks. Following the catch, the fish were quickly inhaled and diving resumed.

After twenty minutes of watching the Cormorants dive and surface, dive and surface, dive and surface, all while swimming upstream against a mighty current, I was tired. Finally, the fisherman brought his raft to a rocky beach where we disembarked for a closer look at the birds. What followed was totally unexpected.

Grabbing each bird individually, he held the bird’s mouth over a basket and somehow forced the birds to regurgitate the fish it captured during its exhausting swim. Into the basket four or five fish flowed from each of their mouths. Generations of villagers had figured a way to cheat at fishing. This wasn’t Vegas and the stakes were small fish, but the game was still rigged.

How did they rig it? The secret to their success is difficult to see in the dark. First, the river fish are attracted to bright lights on the raft's bow making it easier for the Cormorants to dine. Next, a tiny ring is placed around the base of the bird’s neck so when the bird catches and swallows a fish, it is not “swallowed” all the way into the digestive system. At the end of the swim, the fisherman empties the bird’s neck contents into his basket and presto, dinner is served.

Whether you’re watching it or just reading about it, it seems cruel, but if it’s any consolation, the birds look well fed and in fact, it is in the fisherman’s best interest to keep their birds healthy. Cruel or not, my appetite for fish was greatly diminished as we headed back to shore. (I guess you could say I was a bit choked up.) I just hope that fish can't get the bird flu, then we're really in for a doozy with chicken carrying the avian flu, fish right behind them with the feverish sickness (already sacked with mercury) and bovine running around mad (mad cow disease). Soon we'll all be vegetarians whether we like it or not. Perhaps it is Mother Nature's way of trying to tell us something?

(I'm pretty sure having my photo taken with this chap qualifies me for 6 months of quarantine in at least 40 countries.)