Black mud and black rabbits – an extraordinary trip to Amami-Oshima
At the beginning of March, I stopped into Simply Native with a simple question. I have been on the Simply Native mailing list for a couple of years since I started buying matcha here, and had seen Yukino’s February email about her childhood on Amami-Oshima. As it happened, I was off to Amami myself at the end of the month, and hoped that Yukino – whom I had never met, at this point – might give me some tips about what I should see on the island.
Her first suggestion was that I would be having dinner with her parents. Actually “suggestion” isn’t quite right – “command” might be the better word.
And what a dinner it was!
I had never been to Japan before, so why was I heading off the beaten path of the Tourist Triangle to this small island, halfway between Kyushu and Okinawa? Though I had a wonderful time, I wasn’t in Japan for fun – I am a biologist and author, and my current project is a book that explores how species and cultures develop and thrive in isolation, and how rare animals have managed to avoid extinction. I was on the hunt to see one of the world’s rarest animals, a rabbit found only on Amami- oshima and neighbouring Tokunoshima, a survivor with a curious story that teaches
us something about how the old, the rare, and the precious rely on separation from the rest of the world to endure.
The kuro usagi, or Amami Rabbit
Known in Japanese as kuro usagi (black rabbit), the Amami rabbit is not like other rabbits. Its wiry black hair and short ears are hints at its history.
It is a very old species of rabbit that once roamed across all of Asia. Back then, all of the southern islands fo Japan were connected to mainland Asia by land bridges, thanks to lower sea levels. Over time, the species went extinct on the mainland, succumbing to competition, predation, and ecological changes – but 2 million years ago, as sea levels rose, a small group of this ancient lineage found themselves stuck on these two little islands as they separated from Japan and China. And for 2 million years,
they survived, protected from the changes that killed off their mainland relations.
Islands are often the last refuge for ancient species that have gone extinct on the mainland. Small islands can’t support many large predators, and their isolation makes their ecology more stable. Amami is home to many of these species in addition to the rabbit. The Amami woodcock and Amami jay are birds found only on Amami and its neighbouring islands, and the crocodile newts on Amami are genetically distinct from those found on other islands. The most infamous and dangerous Amami resident, the venomous habu snake, is found only on the Amami
and Okinawan islands, and the two populations are genetically distinct.
Conservation scientists perform a health check of a wild Amami woodcock.
The habu is a particularly dangerous and very numerous snake, and Indian
mongooses, which eat snakes, were introduced to both islands to try to reduce their numbers. This caused big problems for the rare wildlife that survive only on these islands, and a huge effort was made over 25 years to eradicate the mongooses on Amami – finally eliminating them in 2024. The Amami rabbits, which had dwindled to less than 2000 thanks to the mongooses, have now recovered to a population of about 20,000 – so many that orchard-keepers on the island have to keep their groves fenced. The rabbits love to eat the bark of their tankan trees – a delicious
citrus fruit grown high in the mountains on Amami. I am enormously grateful to Mariko Suzuki, one of the scientists on Amami, for giving me three days of her time to help me spot the rabbit in its natural habitat, on a late night adventure through the mountains.
I went to Amami to see the rabbit and learn from the local conservation
scientists about how the island has sustained these unique species for so long. But I also learned about how Amami has sustained a unique culture – and particularly how its famous Oshima-tsumugi is made. Oshima tsumugi is hand woven silk, dyed in the island’s iron-rich mud – an art that Yukino’s father, Katsuhiko, has spent his life making. I also had a first-class education in Amami’s wonderful cuisine, thanks to Yukino’s mother Masayo, who served me one of the most delicious (and certainly the
largest) meals I think I have ever had. At Kanai Kogei, a dyer still operating in the traditional way, I watched how the silk yarns are dipped dozens of times into the specially prepared mix of mud to impart a deep, glossy black colour.
Most of all, I experienced something that seems to common to many of the seperated, unique human cultures that this book has taken me to visit – enormous generosity. From Yukino’s excitement and kindness in setting up so many experiences before my trip, to her parents’ unparalleled hospitality (and patience with my very bad Japanese!), to the hard work of the whole conservation centre team to help me track down the rabbit in the wild.
The Amami Wildlife Conservation Centre scientists, Mariko Suzuki at centre front.
In our connected world, places like Amami help us to remember that a little distance is what gives us our distinctiveness, and allows us the opportunity to do things differently – and often better. It’s why I love these rare species so much – and it’s why Simply Native is such a wonderful thing to have in Sydney. There’s really nothing else like it.
[All photos taken by the author]
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Antone continues to write in this vein on his Substack — tracing the intersections of ecology, culture, and place with the same clarity and curiosity. Alongside his writing, Antone documents a more hands-on practice - building a treehouse for his daughters in the form of a tea room, we recommend following along.
https://antonesvillagegreen.substack.com
https://www.instagram.com/stjosephwoodworks/