Tako-Tsubo fishing experience: What It’s Really Like to Catch Octopus the Traditional Way
ORIGINS OF THE TRADITION
Furusu Kazuya is no ordinary fisherman. With four decades on the water, he has specialized in tako-tsubo, the traditional Japanese art of octopus pot fishing. "When I first started out," he says, a shadow of sadness crossing his face, "there were octopuses everywhere. But their numbers have dropped significantly since then." However, the tide seems to be turning for the better recently with numbers starting to rise over the last few years, and Furusu-san describes recent catches as rather promising. Tako-tsubo has been practiced in Japan since the Yayoi period, over 2,000 years ago. Even then, octopus fishermen took advantage of the creature's natural instinct to hide from predators inside dark, narrow crevices. In the past, tsubo—the pots used for octopus fishing—were made from unglazed clay. From the late 20th century onward, heavy, fragile earthenware gave way to specialized plastic pots—equipped with automatic trapdoors that snap shut once an octopus crawls inside. While the materials have evolved over time—from raw clay to modern plastics—the core technique of sinking an artificial shelter and waiting for the octopus to enter has remained unchanged for over two millennia.
SPECIFICS OF TAKO-TSUBO FISHING
In Narushima, Furusa-san was among the first fishermen to embrace modern plastic baskets for tako-tsubo fishing. The automatic trapdoors significantly boosted catch efficiency by preventing octopuses from escaping while the pots were being hauled aboard. Catch efficiency was basically the main driver for fishermen to adopt it instead of traditional clay pots. However, these self-closing pots introduced a new problem: trapped octopuses often began self-harming. Under extreme stress and confinement, an octopus can suffer a nervous system overload—a state so distressing that it may begin eating its own tentacles. Although this is not rare, such a behavior, in general, does not exceed 10% of the overall catch. Overall, tako-tsubo fishing is a labor-intensive and time-consuming craft. In terms of sheer volume, it is far less efficient than modern industrial methods like trawling or netting. So, this begs the obvious question: why does tako-tsubo fishing survive? The secret to its survival lies in Japan’s culinary culture, where ingredient quality is paramount. While industrial methods like net fishing and trawling yield high volumes, they come at a steep cost. Abrasive nets tear delicate suction cups, scar the skin, and bruise the meat under stress—ultimately degrading the quality of the octopus. A second key factor is the local topography, particularly around Goto. Because octopuses take shelter in the hard-to-reach crevices of its rugged, rocky seabed, industrial trawling nets are entirely ineffective.
TRYING TAKO-TSUBO FOR THE FIRST TIME
We accompanied Furusu-san on his daily sea run to check his octopus pots as part of tako-tsubo fishing tour. He occasionally runs these tours for visitors, though demand remains relatively small for now. We visited two fishing spots, each set with 250 pots connected by a single line that stretched across 300 meters. On the way out to the takotsubo grounds, we were treated to stunning coastal views—dotted with rocky islets, sweeping horizons, and dramatic shifts in the current. That natural beauty was matched by the raw excitement of hauling up the pots, coaxing the octopuses out, and moving them into the boat’s holding pool. Out of the 500 pots we pulled up that day, we caught 18 octopuses. We thought that was a impressive harvest, but Furusu-san set us straight: it was actually one of his lowest catches, well short of his personal record of 53 in a single trip. At the end of an exhausting yet exhilarating day, Furusu-san gifted us an octopus each before hosting us at his office for a warm, friendly chat. All in all, it was an unforgettable experience—one that left us with nice memories, deep appreciation, and a hands-on introduction to a traditional craft.
