by Kirsty Kawano

It was one of those sparkling summer days when the pale blue sky seems to stretch higher than usual. I was running errands near home and took the path along the river to avoid traffic and enjoy the view. I looked back and forth to the river as I cycled along, spotting some of the usual inhabitants – the eponymous ducks, herons and little egrets – and then, an unexpected one. I stopped my bike to gawk at it. At the edge of the grassy bank in the middle of the river was one of those things that there’s a sign about down at Demachiyanagi. A “neutrino,” or something, because that’s not the right word – but something like that. And if I’ve ever seen a South American beaver-like rodent smile, that’s what it was doing now. The audacity! And then, just like that, in the brilliant sunshine of a Kyoto summer, it took a moment to give its butt a good, long scratch.

“You are not supposed to be here!” I thought to it. “At the very least, get yourself back down to Demachiyanagi.”

As surprised as I felt to see this creature all the way up here in Kita ward, really, I already knew it lived here. 

I had come down to the river here last year to let my daughter and her friends play in the water. They floated along on their swim rings and had a good time, right alongside a drain that was very likely channeling runoff from the botanical gardens. Come to think of it, my daughter did grow a lot that summer.

An Englishman that I had gotten to know through coincidental meetings around Kyoto was there, too. Inevitably we meet in summer, near – or in – a river. I suppose the only way an Englishman can survive the heat of a Kyoto summer is to dip himself in cold water several times a day.

As I walked in the river that day, there was a rustle in the long grass along the riverbank that was far too loud to have been made by a bird. I couldn’t see what had made the noise, but I knew what it must be. 

And here it was now. It had become an elementary particle of this environment, along with the ducks, the egrets and the overheated Englishman. In an unlikely version of life, this nutria was part of the cosmos of Kyoto. Here it was, far from its designated habitat, living its best life in one of the world’s most beautiful cities. 

“Kudos to you,” I thought to the nutria.

I got back on my bike and, smiling in the sunshine, scratched my butt all the way home.

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To learn more about Kirsty Kawano click here.

For a piece by Kirsty comparing life in Tokyo to life in Kyoto, please click here.