How a Near-Extinct Bird Returned to the Rice Fields of Sado Island

Sado Island perches like a butterfly with its wings outstretched just off the curved west coast of Japan. Yet this land mass is better known as the home of another winged creature: the crested ibis, called toki in Japanese.

Hop on a shinkansen (a high-speed train) from Tokyo to Niigata, then board a ferry, and you will arrive at the port of Ryotsu, where a Welcome to Sado sign awaits above a larger-than-life photo of a toki mid-flight. Wander through the souvenir shops adjacent to the ferry terminal and you will see this bird again and again—printed on postcards, stitched onto t-shirts, frosted onto elaborate pastries, and carved into hashioki (chopsticks rests). You might even bump into a huggable, human-sized plush mascot.

Once you have seen a toki, there’s no mistaking this bird for any other. With its expressive eyes, its bright red mask-like face framed by feathers that drape down its neck like a mane of wild hair, its white slender body, pink underwings, hooked black beak, and red lanky legs, it is almost easier to envision this bird strutting on a historic Noh theater stage than through a field.

It is actually unlikely that you will happen across a crested ibis in the wild. The native toki of Sado went extinct over four decades ago. But through a community-driven and internationally-supported initiative, they have returned for an encore.

While toki once thrived on Sado, populations began to decline in the 19th century as they were hunted for meat and feathers. Ultimately, though, it was the introduction of modern agricultural practices that led to their demise. To understand the impact of farming on the crested ibis population, it’s important to know that both the birds and the people of Sado rely heavily on one crop: rice.

Mako Igarashi, promotions manager in the Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries Department of Sado City Hall, estimates there are about 8,000 rice farms on the island, which itself is only approximately 330 square miles. In mountainous areas, most farms cover less than two acres and are cultivated for personal use, while farms in the plains tend to grow rice for sale on slightly larger plots.

“As a Japanese person, rice is, of course, a staple food and an indispensable item. In Sado, many people are involved in rice farming,” says Ken Hirashima, President and CEO of Obata Sake Brewery. Their facility is located on the island and they locally source two types of sake rice, Gohyakumangoku and Echitanrei. This petite patch of Japanese land has, however, gained national acclaim for another rice variety—its namesake Sado Koshihikari rice, which is best suited to sushi.

Sado-based chef Saori Aoki uses this rice at her restaurant Ogiya to make dishes like nameshi (rice with leafy greens) and oshizushi (sushi pressed into bite-sized squares, rather than rolls). “It has a pleasant fragrance and a sweet taste, and becomes even sweeter when cooled,” says Aoki.

Aoki sources her rice from a nearby cooperative. “I think the idea of ‘local production for local consumption’ is important,” says Aoki. Due to Sado’s small size and the islanders’ big appetite for this grain, almost all Sado Koshihikari rice is consumed by its residents. If you want to try it, you have to go there, which has been the case for over 400 years. “Since the Edo period [1603-1868], the population has increased due to the prosperity of the gold mines. Many rice fields developed,” explains Hirashima. “As production increased, rice terraces were established not only in the plains, but also in the mountains, creating a beautiful rural landscape. The scenery is something the islanders treasure.”

While rice is a primary form of sustenance and income for Sado residents, the waterlogged fields are an essential habitat for toki, who depend on a diet of fish, frogs, and other small aquatic creatures. In the 20th century, farmers began spraying their paddies with pesticides and chemical fertilizers to increase crop yields. These substances, however, can be lethal for the inhabitants of delicate wetland environments. As their food sources disappeared, local Japanese crested ibis populations—believed to be the last living anywhere in the wild—plummeted. In 1981, the few surviving birds were taken into captivity at the newly established Sado Japanese Crested Ibis Conservation Center.

Fortunately, that same year, seven of these rare birds were discovered in China. Soon after, Chinese and Japanese scientists formed a partnership to breed future generations. Those leading the initiative on Sado also founded an educational conservation space called Toki Forest Park so that visitors could see the crested ibises that remained.

The process of breeding toki in captivity, however, was slow and uncertain. Two decades passed and still only a few birds survived. It took another significant loss for more locals to join together to restore the bird’s natural place on the island. In 2004, a typhoon ripped through the Sea of Japan and destroyed Sado’s entire rice harvest. As farmers reflected on the economic and cultural value of this grain, their thoughts also returned to the crested ibis and the importance of making the entire expanse of the island hospitable again to these cherished members of their community.

In 2008, the Sado Agricultural Cooperative launched the toki-to-kurasu-sato program, a crop certification that functions similarly to an “organic” label, but with a highly specific purpose—it verifies that a rice farm is a safe haven for toki. “Many of the islanders have long had a fondness for this bird,” says Hirashima.“I believe it was precisely because of this love that we cooperated in reducing the use of pesticides and chemical fertilizers by more than 50 percent compared to conventional farming methods.” That same year, the Sado Japanese Crested Ibis Conservation Center released 10 toki to roam the island freely, for the first time in 27 years.

Three years later, the UN recognized Sado as one of the world’s first “Globally Important Agricultural Heritage Systems,” highlighting the island as a perfect example of satoyama, which it defines as “societies in harmony with nature.” In Japanese, the term refers more specifically to the liminal spaces where humans and wildlife meet, often in agricultural land between villages and wilderness. The UN chose to celebrate Sado for its traditional rice cultivation, which represents a “dynamic mosaic of various socio-ecological systems” where people and toki thrive together.

About 350 rice producers have obtained toki-to-kurasu-sato, or “ibis-friendly farming,” certification. Currently, it’s available only for rice farming, though Sado farmers also famously cultivate other crops, including Okesa persimmons, nashi (Asian pears), as well as cattle raised for high-quality beef and milk. But even with these other agricultural activities, rice and toki play a part. Cartons of local milk portray a charming cartoonish image of the crested ibis, and the cows are fed with the discarded stalks and leaves of the rice plants.

Today, over 500 crested ibises are at home in the rice fields of Sado. On a five-day visit to the island, just before the 2024 rice harvest, I observed the land closely, hoping to spot one, without any luck. But Hirashima, who first encountered a toki in 2009, now sees them almost daily. For Sado’s nearly 50,000 residents—and, perhaps, the occasional lucky visitor—this fantastical creature has resumed its place in reality, restoring a sense of harmony to this unique island, where people, birds, and rice are inextricably connected.

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