He can rattle off the top European strains at the drop of a hat, and personally owns a fine stud of Catrisse, Vanrauaene and Lefebre-Dhaenens that he has carefully crossed with a legendary local strain called "CB" (after a racehorse of the same name).
I was delivered to the door of Mr. Ishikawa’s sushi shop by Mr. Shoay Shirayama the head of the Kanagawa Prefecture Racing Federation (Kanagawa Prefecture is a large populated county south of Tokyo, which includes Kawasaki City) and Mr. Hideo Ishiwata the president of the Kawasaki Club. We made our way past the sushi bar and up a steep stairway to a tatami (reed) floored dining room with Japanese-style sliding door panels. As we sat on the floor around the low table in the center of the room, I was introduced to a new Japanese word that would be used many times in our meeting: "Ongaeshi". "Ongaeshi" explained Mr. Shirayama with the air of a proud parent, "means to have a gift come back to you". "Rather than resentment, we feel that after helping Seiji since junior high school, he has finally returned our favor. His current wins are his gift to us."
"I say he’s paid us back enough! Mr. Ishiwata interrupted jokingly. "I don’t want any more of his gifts!"
On this note, the humble understudy-turned-champion entered the room with a tray of fresh sushi and several mugs of cold beer. The meeting was about to begin!
It soon became apparent that this was more than a dining room. Huge blow-ups of Seiji’s champion birds adorned the walls along with diplomas and other pigeon paraphernalia. And why not show off birds that came in 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9 & 10 in a 7500 bird race!
It was time to cut to the chase. "At the risk of divulging too many of your secrets," I asked, "how did you do it?"
"I have no secrets," Seiji replied frankly, and proceeded to explain his winning methods. He races Young Birds on widowhood, breeding them in the spring and weaning at 25 days old. Then they go to a separate room for 5-7 days where they learn to eat and drink. Then its open loft for a few weeks, but starting in late July, they are only flown an hour a day. He favors very hot days for loft training because he believes the intense heat allows them to build up more muscle. After they begin ranging for an hour or so, he puts them on the training truck. Truck training starts about 2 1/2 months before the first race.
Since the loft is on the roof of his three story family home (just one block from his restaurant), it is very difficult to carry pigeon crates down the narrow, steep stairways so typical of the older buildings in Kawasaki. Seiji solved this problem by installing a big pulley system for lowering the birds down from the roof to the street.
He calls in his birds with a feed whistle, a venerable tradition which, he says with a laugh, is no longer shared by everyone in the club. Another rooftop flyer he knows cuts through the rumble and din of the surrounding metropolis by blasting out Strauss’ opera "The Ride Of The Valkyries" through large roof-top speakers (this is the tune, you may recall, that Robert Duvall broadcast from his attack helicopters while bombing Vietnamese villages in the American movie "Apocalypse Now"). Yes, like their overseas cousins, Japanese pigeon flyers are a varied and eccentric lot.
When asked to comment on how pigeon racing had changed the most in Japan over the past 30 years, Seiji cited the shift from long to middle distance races. He cited two reasons for this. The first is simple geography. Japan is a string of islands, so to take the birds out more than 500 or 600 Kilometers from Tokyo, you have to go over water. It’s a big jump to the northern island of Hokkaido – much farther than across the English Channel – and may birds, especially young ones, don’t make it back. In fact, there have been reports of Japanese birds ending up in Canada and Russia; something they put down to the violent and unpredictable wind patters at the channel crossing.
The second thing that has moved flyers to the middle distances is the fact that Old Bird races, which are held at two-week intervals in Japan, cut into the spring breeding season. So it is not unusual to see 12,000 birds entered in races up to 500 kilometers and only 700-2000 birds placed in races over 1000 kilometers.
Seiji’s answer was factual and to the point, but this was clearly a young champion’s view of history. His seniors, Mr. Shirayama and Mr. Ishiwata, were more philosophical in their view of what changes in the sport should really be viewed as fundamental. In their view, the biggest shift in the sport has been from sportsmanship toward the pursuit of prizes. They see monetary gain as a necessary evil that keeps the wheels of the sport turning, but which ever threatens to cut away at the membership by driving up the cost of competing and taking some of the old friendliness out of the sport.
Seiji, like most serious flyers in Japan, treats for PMV, coriza, micoplasma (A & B types), salmonella, pox, canker, and worms, but like other flyers, does not use antibiotics nor recognize respiratory as a real problem, perhaps because the weather is mild in the Tokyo area with snowfall being a rare event. Lofts here feature large screened windows rather than being glassed in. He refuses to treat for anything during the actual race season, but does administer a special garlic and honey mix. Vitamins and minerals are given in both food and water. Chopped carrots and lettuce are lavished on the birds and pick stone is always available.
What about prizes in Japan? This is a sticky question, because gambling is illegal here and racing for prizes is considered gambling! The top prize for the biggest official combine race in the area is 100,000 Yen (about $900), but how do you get your prize? The way it works is that the Racing Association keeps your winner for a year to produce a few youngsters, then buys them back from you for a monetary amount equal to the "prize". Prizes for the big one-loft races (which are fairly rare in Japan) are claimed in the same way.
The cost of a racing band is 120 Yen (about $1.00) and starting this year it is required that a second, ID band have the flyer’s name and phone number printed on them. Feed and health supplements, all of which are imported, primarily from Holland, also add to the cost of the hobby for both Seiji and most other flyers.
His advice to other flyers seeking top honors? "Avoid over-crowding." His loft has over 400 birds in several large sections, yet he feels he has frequently been guilty of keeping far too many birds. He feels that this contributes to losses, which for him is about10% during YB training, with only a third of the flock left at the end of the season.
When asked if he had any message for fellow flyers in America, the young champ humbly deferred this question to the old hands, his life-long mentors. "Tell them that pigeon racing unites all of us in spite of our differences," said Federation President Shirayama. "America is the closest country to us in terms of psychology and culture, but for pigeon racing, we’ve grown apart to the point that we no longer know who to contact or communicate with in the US."
"We have often wanted to send race results but don’t know who to contact because the country is so big. I used to subscribe to an American racing magazine years ago, even though I don’t read or speak English. I sent money for a while but finally lost contact."
"Most pigeon flyers here go to Europe rather than to America to buy birds these days. But most flyers of my generation started with pigeons brought in from America -- Gordons, Trentons, Sions, Stassarts, etc.)."
"We invite American’s to send birds to JRPA’s (Japan Racing Pigeon Association) one loft international race. The Europeans have been doing it for a long time and it would be a good way to showcase your birds in Japan. The last thing I would like to say to American flyers is that it would be great to learn more about the sport from each other. Pigeon racing unites all of us in spite of our differences."
Seiji’s parting wish was to have me send him as many American pigeon racing magazines as possible.
