
Kushiro Shitsugen National Park, Hokkaido, Japan, July 29, 2018
Wherever you are, we hope your day is going well!

Ursus Arctos is a holarctic species represented by several subspecies throughout the Northern Hemisphere including the Grizzlies of the North America West (U. a. horribilis), the massive Coastal Brown Bears of Kodiak Island Alaska (U. a. middendorffi), the equally impressive Chignik (Alaska Peninsula) bears (U. a. gyas) and various additional species scattered from the harsh Gobi Desert to Siberia, the Italian Alps and other regions. Adapted to a variety of climates and diets, physiologically Ursus arctos is the most varied of all bear species.
The Brown Bears we encountered in Hokkaido, U. a. yesoensis, are similar in appearance to the Coastal Brown Bears of Kodiak Island and the Alaska Peninsula which makes sense as, like their Alaskan cousins, Hokkaido’s Brownies subsist on a salmon-rich diet. But at an average weight of only about 450 pounds – large males topping off at under 700 pounds -, Hokkaido’s bears are small compared to those found in Alaska; Chignik and Kodiak bears can reach weights of well over half a ton.
Still, bears are bears and regardless of size, they can be fierce. Approximately 12,000 Brown Bears inhabit Hokkaido, a land area about the size of the state of South Carolina or the country of Austria and home to just over five million people. There have been 57 human deaths attributed to Hokkaido’s Brown Bears over the past 61 years. When the sow in the above photo cautiously emerged from the forest and woofed for her two cubs to follow her across the steep road we were pushing our bicycles up, we gave her the right of way.
The rugged, forested 470 square mile Shiretoko Peninsula where we encountered these and several other bears as well as Blakiston’s Fish Owls, Ezo Red Foxes, Sika Deer, Dall’s Porpoises, eagles and other birds is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

With a wingspan ranging from about 5′ 10″ to 6′ 3″ (170 – 190 cm), Blakiston’s Fish Owls are generally regarded as the world’s largest living species of owl. The photograph above is of one of a known wild pair which have been banded. The owls regularly visit a small stream where a pool has been created with natural rocks and is regularly stocked with Cherry Trout (sakuramasu, O. masau). A small inn with windows overlooking the pool provides guests with opportunities for a glimpse of this rare species which may visit the pool at any time during the night. The indigenous people of Hokkaido, the Ainu, regarded these great owls as spiritual protectors of their villages.


I made this image from a picture I took at Mokoto Train Station in Hokkaido when I looked up into a mirror above the waiting platform and saw Barbra there looking at her phone. There’s something about the scene – populated with houses and rail, and yet eerily empty – and Barbra, alone, looking at her phone -, that seemed to imply something universal about loneliness and the fine line between expectation and disappointment. Compositionally, the frame within the frame here appeals to me… as do… exotic elements such as Barbra’s bright red hair, Japanese writing and the ambiguity suggested by rail that appears to be rusted and perhaps no longer in use.
I am happy to acknowledge the influences of others… here a nod to Stefanie Schneider and her Instant Dreams series, which I invite readers to check out on Instagram or elsewhere. I’m not sure that there isn’t a hint of the old Twilight Zone TV series in this image as well… I think virtually all of us of a certain generation carry within our psyches some lingering effect of Rod Serling’s creation.
Speaking of which… as I attempt to build more exposure for my own work, I’ve been regularly posting on instagram. At some point, I intend to build a website dedicated to photography. Until then, Instagram is a good place to see photographs in one place without needing to click around a lot. If you’re interested, here’s the link: jackdonachy. Be sure to leave a “like” if you like what you see. Thanks!

Rishiri-to (Rishiri Island), was one of four small islands we ferried to during our Hokkaido trek. Each of these islands offered beautiful, inexpensive campgrounds, and except for one night, we had the grounds to ourselves. One of my personal objectives during the trek was to have Babra experience authentic Japanese tempura. In a small shop run by an elderly couple on Rishiri-to, we found The Best fare of that kind I’ve ever had. 凡天 (Bonten) may or may not still exist as we found it six years ago; the couple was advanced in years, the shop was small, unassuming and might easily be overlooked. But among other dishes we sampled was tempura uni – sea urchin battered and fried to perfection tempura-style. Like the other three islands we visited, a road lacing along the coastline made bicycling a complete circumference (30-some miles in the case of Rishiri) enjoyable. Lots of birds, flowers, fresh air… and a couple of Totoro sightings!

With the exception of a very few tennis-ball-sized glass floats used in skates set for Olive Flounder (hirame, 平目, ヒラメ), glass fishing floats are artifacts of yesteryear. Broken free from lines and nets perhaps decades ago, they still wash up on North American beaches, especially in parts of Alaska. We came across some beautiful collections during our Hokkaido trek. Here a loaded skiff on Yagashiri Island.

Clean restrooms close by (to answer the first question on the minds of most casual campers), good clean drinking water, quiet, and the entire grounds to ourselves. I don’t imagine that the camping situation has changed much since we visited Hokkaido in 2018. Traveling to Teuri with our bicycles was easy via the ferry from Haboro on Hokkaido’s west coast. We only spent two days on Teuri, but agreed we could easily have enjoyed a week on this small, bird-rich island.
Scrolling down panels in lightroom as I brought up the above photograph, I decided to give a relatively new feature a try: Lens Blur. With a single click, this AI-driven feature isolated what it interpreted to be the subject and foreground and then blurred (decreased the clarity) of the background. It worked well – which is to say, I liked the result.
To be sure, a more competent photographer equipped with the right lens could easily have achieved similar results in-camera. But six years ago when I captured this image, I was a less competent photographer. Less competent not only from a technical standpoint, but also my eye was less well developed, and so I didn’t always appreciate the pleasing effect a bokehed background could add to a photograph.
While I could have used masks and clarity sliders to isolate the subject and achieve the same effect, this Lens Blur feature significantly speeded up the process. So…
I might have more to say about AI technology in future posts. It’s here, part of our world now. Lots to think about. JD

You might encounter this puffin relative just about anywhere along North America’s Pacific coastline, and in fact there are breeding populations scattered from Canada through Alaska’s Aleutian Islands. But perhaps the best place to see Rhinoceros Auklets is on Terui Island off the west coast of Hokkaido where they gather in the hundreds of thousands to nest – the largest Rhinoceros Auklet breeding colony in the world.
The northwest cliffs of Teuri are pockmarked with burrows which the auklets have dug deep into the sandy soil to keep their eggs and chicks safe from gulls and other predators. During the day, the parents leave their chicks behind as they venture out to sea where they dive for food – primarily Sand Lances and squid. As twilight gathers, the adult auklets return to home, somehow sorting out their burrows from among the tens of thousands of similar tunnels. Gulls await the returning auklets, keen on stealing an easy meal. This is an example of why for many species it is so important that their numbers remain vast. Were only a few auklets to return, they’d each make an easy target for the waiting gulls. But with hundreds of thousands flying in, the relatively few gulls are overwhelmed, and although the gulls manage to take a few meals, most of the auklets make it safely to their burrows where hungry chicks are waiting.
On Terui Island, guides are available to take birders out to the nesting site to observe the spectacle of returning auklets. Along a pathway, a few low lights allow for a good view of the birds as they scurry through low, dense vegetation. Some of the auklets will be quite close, but in order to get good photographs a fast lens and a camera capable of handling high ISO values is necessary as using additional lighting is not permitted (and would be wrong, even it were). You’ll be hand-holding and so you have to hope you catch one standing still to momentarily collect its thoughts, as in the above photograph. JD

Not a lot appears to be going on in the above daytime photograph taken on Teuri Island’s cliff-lined northwest. The 2.1 square mile island (5.5 square km) hosts the breeding grounds for several species of birds, most notably seabirds. The holes in the above photograph are the burrows of Rhinoceros Auklets, a species for which Teuri serves as the world’s largest breeding ground.
While it doesn’t appear that much is going on in the photograph – a few gulls milling around notwithstanding – at the end of each burrow, which may be up to six meters (20 feet) in length, a Rhinoceros Auklet chick is waiting for twilight when parents will return from the sea, stomachs, gullets and bills crammed with catches of sand lances and squid. Gulls – primarily Slaty-backed which also breed on the island – will intercept some of the returning adults, but most will make it past the parasitic phalanx. Recent estimates put the auklet population at around 400,000 breeding pairs. Add in the chicks and the species count rises to over a million. Perhaps you can imagine the sight and the cacophony as night gathers and hundreds of thousands of adult auklets return, evading squawking gulls, somehow locating the specific burrow each parent calls home.
Teuri is also an excellent place to see Spectacled Guillemots, Common Guillemots and other seabirds as well as passerines such as Blue Rock Thrushes and Siberian Rubythroats. Regular, bicycle-friendly ferries from Haboro make it easy to get out to the island, and if you don’t choose to stay at the lovely campground (which you’re likely to have to yourself) there are wonderful inns offering comfortable accomodations and truly some of the world’s best fresh seafood.

Somewhat paralleling the boom and bust of America’s west coast sardine/herring fishery (see Cannery Row), in the late 1800’s through the early 1900’s, fortunes were made and lost on the back of Hokkaido’s west coast herring fishery. The building in the above image is a Nishin Goten, a communal house for the herring fishermen of that era. Inside are the captain’s quarters, other areas where fishermen and other employees (I’m assuming the fishermen’s wives who were vital in processing the catch) could roll out their futons. Such houses featured a kitchen, a place to store slippers (in those days woven from grass) and a bit of furniture. These days, several Nishin Goten are preserved and open to visitors – well worth a stop if you’re traveling Hokkaido’s west coast along the famed Herring Highway.