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Introduction

2007 - Japan Aquariums: Epson Aqua Stadium
By Mike Ezawa

Introduction
I arrived at Narita International Airport at close to 3 pm.  After an hour-long bus ride, I’m at the hotel.  It’s now close to 7 pm, and I’m back from my first look around Tokyo.

It’s a chilling recurrence, but one of the first things I saw when I walked out of the hotel was an advertisement for “Aqua Stadium.”  It bore a huge, glossy image of a smiling dolphin at the left corner with other sea animals such as seals and sharks dotted throughout the large poster. 

I don’t think I need to explain too much the details of the captivity industry.  The bottom line is:  many captive dolphins here in Japan come from drive hunts which massacre dolphins every winter.  I will try and visit the place and get video and still footage of the aquarium.

There are countless numbers of markets in Tokyo; I strolled around Shinagawa train station, looking into a few markets just to see if whale or dolphin meat was on sale.  I was very happy to see there was none, of the five places I briefly visited.

The people walk around the sidewalks, minding their own business, thinking their thoughts, lugging suitcases, backpacks, and pricey work suits.  There is some scant interaction, some bowing, small talk.  The Japanese are very hard-working people, and the stress of the right-on-time daily routine must be difficult.

A couple look at the aquarium ad.  Aquariums are escapes from everyday life; for many a refreshing visit.  People see the dolphin smiles, their tricks, etc.  Out comes the cash; the aquariums grow richer.  Human observers escape the stressful life; they peer into the new lives captive dolphins are forced to live.

Epson Aqua Stadium 
I paid a visit to Epson Aqua Stadium to film some captive dolphins today.  It is a fairly small facility based on the aquariums I’ve seen.  It’s located across the street from the very busy Shinagawa Station, right beneath the Prince Hotel, right in the middle of a shopping plaza.  Certainly it seems strange and notably unfair for the dolphins to be relocated in the Japanese capital.

I took some video footage; four white-sided dolphins, three bottlenose, and a larger one which I believe is a false killer whale. 

Here, the dolphins share the facility with sea lions, various fishes, crabs, and some penguins (in different displays, all of which are undersized).  I can specifically recall one display of an ocean sunfish.  It was essentially living in a big, clear plastic bag in a dark box filled with water.  They call it an “ocean sunfish” for a reason.

The dolphin pool is 5 meters deep, and 25 meters across.  Music is blaring in the intercom.  I heard songs like “We Are a Family” and “I Will Survive.”  Such irony.  The four white-sided dolphins are swimming about in their pool, visibly bored, waiting for their trainers to arrive with their food.  The scenery in here is pretty depressing.

There’s a hole in the roof which lets some sunlight in, obstructed by large metal bars.  The inside of the pool building is dark, with vendors selling snacks and souvenirs along its perimeter.  On weekdays, the dolphins perform four times at two-hour intervals; on weekends, five times a day, with the same interval.

Aqua Stadium’s Dolphin Pool.  25 m across, 5 m deep.

Here come the trainers.  Buckets in hand, the dolphins get excited, splashing about, waiting for some food.  The procedure is typical:  the trainers do some hand motions, the dolphins perform the associated trick, and a small fish portion is tossed into the mammals’ mouth.  This sequence repeats again and again till the bucket empties.

The trainers leave.  The dolphins resume their drifting about the pool, rubbing against each other, looking at their unfamiliar observers, myself included.

I see a small sub-section of the main pool, separated by metal bars.  The false killer whale, along with a pair of bottlenose, peer into the bigger pool.  For roughly five minutes, one of the bottlenoses just stares into space.  I’ve never seen a bottlenose dolphin with more depressing body language.  It was an unnerving sight.

Later on, one of the bottlenoses began pushing against the gate to the main pool, its powerful efforts to break the seal unsuccessful.  The bottlenose stares past the obstruction, probably wishing it could join the other dolphins.

A child presses close to the pool wall, kindly and curiously yelling “Konnichiwa!” at the dolphins.  There was fascination there, perhaps love.  But there is too little truth revealed to the public regarding how these mammals got here.  It would appear that these dolphins came either from drive hunts or other facilities.  The youngster has eyes filled with joy.  I look closely at one of the dolphins.  It looks back at the child gently, probably wishing it could join him and play.  I’m no psychic or psychologist, but my always-emotional and analytical gut told me there was despair and loneliness.  What the hell have we done?

A dolphin peers into the main pool, metal bars blocking its entrance.

The first show starts, with some dismal metal music blasting.  The show guide introduces us to the dolphins, with the trainers standing at different parts of the pool walls.  Then begins the usual display of jumps, flips, headbutting large inflatable balls around, trainers surfing on the dolphins’ backs, and other acrobatics.

The mood in the stands is pretty dull.  There’s not nearly as much life in this show as what I saw in Ocean Park’s dolphin show.  I can tell you the fact that we’re indoors in a poorly-lit facility makes a huge difference.

The dolphins certainly seem to adore their trainers.  But I believe the only reason they do tricks is because they know food’s coming if they perform.  Occasionally, a trainer gets in the water with his/her mammal.  They do some synchronous movements, play with hoops, and wave good-bye.  Much like the Ocean Park show.

A white-sided dolphin snatching a hoop from its trainer.

The show finished after about 15 minutes.  The dolphins remained nearby their trainers for more feeding and conditioning.  Most of the crowd scattered for the penguin feedings.  For awhile, I stood and stared at the place (I had observed the dolphins for a couple hours prior to the show); this was home:  a dreary pool; a ceiling of metal bars; music (lots of music); show duty 30 times a week.  Home, sweet home.  Utterly unfair.

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