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Writer's pictureHerre de Bondt

Wild Boars' Nuclear Turf War

If I were to say ‘mutant’, what would come to mind? Perhaps you imagine something scary from a science-fiction film, emerging from a fluorescent green pool of radioactive goo. Maybe you think about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles who live in sewers and practice martial arts. Maybe you’re a fan of the classics and the word mutant makes you think of Godzilla, a prehistoric monster that was hit by radiation from a nuclear bomb who takes his frustrations out on the streets of Tokyo. Although slightly less spectacular than skyscraper-destroying, fictional dinosaurs, Sendai's wild boars offer a different perspective on nuclear waste.





Wild boars are one of the most widespread mammals in the world. The wild boar and its 16 subspecies have done a true world tour as they are present in all continents except for Antarctica. Groups of wild boars are called a ‘sounder’ and they are usually led by  a dominant female. Compared to the pink, domestic pig, boars have longer legs, darker and thicker fur, and are more muscular.  A male boar can weigh up  to 50 kilogram and can have tusks that can grow up to 10 centimeters in length. While it might not look like it, females have tusks too but they do not protrude from their mouth like male tusks do. And - I only learned this recently - boars can charge at speeds of up to 40 kilometers an hour. 


These omnivores eat over 4000 kilocalories a day and use their snouts to rummage through soil, hunting for roots, bulbs, seeds, twigs, and small animals or insects. It is precisely this digging behaviour that made scientists pay attention to them in the wake of the 2011 triple disaster in Japan



Triple Disaster


On the 11th of March 2011, Japan was struck by one of the largest earthquakes in the nation’s history. The earthquake happened off the coast of Sendai, on the northern part of Japan’s main island Honshu, and was followed by a tsunami that crashed into the mainland, and damaged the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. This resulted in massive amounts of radioactive material seeping into the environment.


In this season of Animal Highlights I have discussed many different kinds of waste including everything from cigarette butts, to food, plastic, and even human hair but perhaps no waste creates as much fear and anxiety as nuclear waste.

There is a good reason for this, large amounts of radiation can be deadly to humans, causing devastating illnesses and death. Over 160.000 people were evacuated from the area surrounding Fukushima, leaving behind what many refer to as ghost towns that are characterized by empty roads, debris, and broken buildings. 


But, if one looks a little closer it is plain to see that these are not ghost towns at all.


Like other areas that are cordoned off from human activity - including the Demilitarized Zone in South Korea and the areas surrounding Chernobyl - they are buzzing with other-than-human activity. Using a network of remote cameras, Philip Lyons and his colleagues took thousands of images at 106 different sites around Fukushima’s evacuation zone. They found that following the human-abandonment of the area many species of animals, including boars, are rewilding the area.  





But what about the radioactive waste? Is it not impacting the boars?


In a study published in 2021, Kelly Cunningham and her colleagues looked at how radioactive waste in the Fukushima area was affecting wild boars and rat snakes. The radioactive water from the tsunami seeped into the ground, making the soil in the area particularly toxic. Considering boars actively root and rummage through the soil, one would expect them to be negatively impacted. However, Cunningham found that while radioactive material can be devastating for humans the boars and snakes didn’t seem to suffer from any significant adverse health effects. That said, studies have found if you eat boars you might as well be eating radioactive cesium. Boars bodies in Europe have traces of radioactive material from the Chernobyl nuclear disaster and from nuclear testing that was carried out in the area.


Crazy as it sounds, one could argue that what was a triple disaster for humans in Japan has been mostly positive for the boars. They experience more freedom to roam than they have ever done. Without humans around, foraging is easier than ever and the evacuation of humans opened up areas the boars might have previously avoided and without humans and cars around they can move around more freely.

I say more freely, because slowly humans are returning to the towns they left behind 13 years ago and they increasingly express concerns about the wild boars. They are not only afraid of their tusks and unpredictable demeanor, but also of the radioactive material they carry in their bodies. Hunters recently started hunting boars and are killing over a thousand per year which brings with it another issue: How on earth do you dispose of thousands of inedible 50 kilogram mammals? Japan is struggling with this as they lack incinerator space and struggle to find personnel that want to cut up radioactive boar-bodies.



The triple disaster rapidly spread radioactive waste all throughout the Fukushima area, and different species have had to adapt in different ways. Where humans needed to leave, boars could stay. it is striking how quickly the boars reclaimed the area. And this is not a phenomenon unique to Fukushima. Boars have also proliferated around Chernobyl and the legacy of the waste from that disaster lives on in the geography of the area and the bodies of the boars.


Both Chernobyl and Fukushima have even seen the return of endangered animals in those areas, just because they can live in relative peace. And so I think what this story tells us is that radioactive waste most likely isn’t good for animals, but human habitation might just be far worse.



 
 

Herre de Bondt has done research on rats in Amsterdam, crows in Tokyo, and gulls in The Hague. His work has now brought him to London where his PhD project is concerned with urban bird feeding practices. From hanging up fatballs for chirpy robins to tossing seed to flocks of ‘flying rats’, Herre is determined to investigate the inherently multispecies practice of bird feeding. He is particularly interested in the ways non-human animals inform and shape the contemporary city in collaboration with – and in defiance of – humans.


You can connect with Herre via Twitter (@HerreBondt).Learn more about our team here.  


 

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