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2024年4月29日发(作者：管嫔然)

From the eastern end of the Great Wall, China’s coast spans 14500

kilometresand more than 5000 years of history. This is the area which shows the

greatest contrast between China's past and its future. Today China's eastern

seaboards home to 700 million people, packed into some of the most dazzling

hi-tech cities on earth. Yet these crowded shores remain hugely important for a

wealth of wildlife. Now, as ancient traditions mingle with new aspirations, is there

any room at all for wildlife on China's crowded shores?

In northern China's Haling Nature Reserve, a pair of red-crowned cranes have

staked out their nesting territory in the stubble of a commercially managed reed

bed. For centuries, cranes have been revered in Chinas symbols of longevity. Their

statues were placed next to the Emperor's throne. The cranes have cause to

celebrate. This chick is a sign of hope in difficult times. Red-crowned cranes are

one of the world's most endangered species. Over the last century, China has lost

nearly half of its coastal wetlands and most of what remains is managed for the

benefit of people, not wildlife. A few months from now, this chick and its parents

will face a long migration south to escape the harsh northern winter. Their route

will take them along a coast which has been greatly affected by human activity.

Along their journey, the cranes will be joined by many thousands of other

migrating birds. All heading south across the Bahia Gulfand along the shores of

the Yellow and East China Seas, some even reaching as far as the South China

Seain search of a safe winter haven. The annual bird migration has been going on

for thousands of years. Here at Mount Jinping on China's northeast coast, there is

surprising evidence that people have lived here almost as long. Seven thousand

years ago, members of the Shao Hao tribe carved magical symbols representing

significant elements of their daily lives. The petro glyphs show wheat sheaves

connected by lines to human figures, the first known recordings of cultivation in

China. Familiar with the spectacle of yearly bird migrations, the Shao Hao people

chose a symbol of a bird as their totem. Mount Jinping lies near the Shandong

peninsula, an important wintering site for migrant birds, and even today there are

still communities along this coastline who retain a special affinity with their local

Jiao village, on the north-eastern shore of the peninsula, is famous

for its traditional seaweed-thatched cottages.

On a chilly morning in early spring,Mr and Mrs Qu venture out at first

lightarmed with the traditional seaside accessories of bucket and the Qus

head down into the harbour,a flock of whooper swans,known affectionately here

as "winter angels",are waking out in the Qus and their neighbours search

for tube holesin the mud at low tide,the sign of cockles and razor shells hidden

deep gathering shellfish is a popular pastime,the main business of

Yandun Jiao happens further out at the boats set out, with Mr Qu on

board,the swans set a parallel whole of the bay is a gigantic seaweed

men work all day cleaning and tending the kelp frondsthat are grown on

ropes linked to a vast armada of swans eat native seaweeds growing on

the surface ropesrather than the valuable crop of kelp,so they do no harm to the

commercial operation. In the afternoon, as the wind picks up out at sea,the

workers and swans return to the culture of seeking balance with

nature goes back a long way in China,it is rare to see such harmonious

relationships on China's crowded evening draws on,the Qu family prepare

their evening meal of cockles,steamed bread and ers are given to

the village children to feed the 's fun for the kids and providesan extra

energy boost for the birds as they face another cold swans have been

using this sheltered beat as a winter refuge for many generations.

As long as the tradition of respect for nature persists, this remarkable

association between the Yandun Jiao community and their winter angels looks set

to continue. Out in the Bahia Gulf, northeast of the swan village, a small rocky

island provides a quiet resting spot for migrating birds. But Shihao Island has

hidden ' pit vipers trapped here , years ago by rising sea levels have

evolved a sinister lifestyle. For months of the year there is nothing substantial to

eat on the island, so the reptiles conserve their energy by barely moving at all. As

the sun warms their rocky home, the snakes climb up into the bushes and trees.

But they aren't here to sunbathe. More and more vipers appear until virtually

every perch where a bird might land has been booby-trapped. Then the waiting

game begins. The serpents' camouflage is remarkable, but so are the birds'

reactions, as this high-speed shot reveals. The birds will only stay on the island for

a couple of weeks. But although the snakes have been starving for months, their

only hope of bagging a meal is to be patient and sit tight. The slightest

miscalculation and the snake is left with a mouthful of feathers. The dropped meal

is tracked down mainly by smell, the viper using its forked tongue to taste the air

until it is close enough to see its quarry. The final challenge is to swallow a meal

that's twice the size of its head. It does so by dislocating its jaws and positioning its

preys the beak is pointing backwards. For the reptiles, this time of plenty is all too

brief. In a couple of weeks, the migration will be overhand the birds will have

moved on. This could be the snake's last meal for six months. But it isn't just islands

that experience cycles of feast and famine. The sea, too, has its seasons, a fact well

known to fishing communities along the neighboring coasts. In Chewing

harbour,the start of a new fishing season provides the excuse for a massive party.

But for boat owner Mr Zhao, it’s a day of prayer as well as celebration. Zhao

hopes that by presenting gifts and showing respect to the sea goddess, he can

help ensure a prosperous and safe year ahead for him and his crew. Meanwhile,

drums, firecrackers and fireworks reflect the ancient belief that loud noises will

frighten off dangerous sea devils and bad fortune.

Occupying centre stage is a representation of the sea dragon, mythical ruler of

water and weather. In the calm of the evening,Mr Zhao and his family light paper

boat flickering flame carries a wish to the sea goddess, a tradition

passed on from parents to children over countless generations. On China's

crowded coasts, fishermen need to be extremely resourceful. Hauling in the nets

is hard work, and so far there's not a fish in sight. Only jellyfish. Each year, millions

of jellyfish are carried south with the currents in the Bahia Gulf. The ecological

story behind this event is complex, but by no means unique to China. Jellyfish are

fast-breeding plankton feeders. In recent years, human sewage and fertilizers from

intensive farming have increased plankton blooms in the Gulf, providing extra

jellyfish food. While over-fishing has reduced their enemies and competitors. It’s

a phenomenon that has become increasingly widespread across the world's seas.

However, what is seen elsewhere as a problem, in China is perceived as an

opportunity. Back on shore, mule carts transport the jellyfish to nearby

warehouses where they will be processed and sold as food all over China. Four

generations tuck into a bowl of sliced jellyfish, the recipe for a long and healthy

life.

Leaving the Bahia Gulf behind, migrating cranes, spoonbills and ducks are

joined by other birds, all heading south in search of a safe winter haven. The birds'

migration route follows the coast of the Yellow Sea down into Jiangsu Province, a

fertile agricultural landscape with some of the last remaining salt marshes in China.

At Dafeng,a small salt marsh reserve is home to an animal which is lucky to be alive.

The Chinese see these Milo as a curious composite animal, with a horse's head,

cow’s feet, a tail like a donkey and backwards-facing antlers. In the West, we

know it as Peer David's Deer, after the first European to describe it.

During the rut, stags decorate themselves with garlands of vegetation

collected in their antlers. Fierce battles decide mating rights. The females still have

last year's fawns in tow. They haven't been weaned by the time of the rut and band

together in large crèches, only returning to their mothers to feed. This unique

behavior helps to keep them clear of the aggressive males. Today, there are just ,

Milo in China, but it is remarkable that there are any at all. In the early s Milo

became extinct in the wild, but luckily, some of the Imperial herd had been sent as

a gift to Europe. Those at Woburn Abbey, in England, prospered. And in the early s,

of the deer were returned to their homeland where they continue to thrive. The

migrating cranes have so far travelled over 2000 kilometers southwards along the

coast. Passing the Milo Deer Reserve at Dafeng,they are approaching another salt

marsh which will provide the perfect conditions for them to spend the winter. This

is Yanting, the largest coastal wetland in China, visited by an estimated three

million birds each year. Crane chicks that were only born seven months ago have

now completed the first leg of a round trip which they will repeat every year.

The hardy cranes can cope with winter temperatures which may drop below

freezing. However, other migrating birds, like the endangered black-faced

spoonbill, are less cold-tolerant and will continue even further south in search of

warmer climes. At this point, many of the migrating bird flocks are barely halfway

along their southward journey. Ahead of them lies a new challenge, China’s

greatest river, the Yangtze, and the venue for a very different kind of migration.

Each year, millions of tons of cargo travel up and down the river, making this one of

the busiest waterways in the world. These are Chinese mitten crabs, named for

their strange hairy claws. They may migrate as much as 1500 kilometers from

tributaries and lakes to the river mouth, where they gather to breed. A similar

migration is made by the giant Yangtze sturgeon, which can reach four metres

long and weigh half a ton. In recent years, its numbers have declined dramatically

as its migration is impeded by ever more river dams. But it isn't just animals like

the sturgeon that are in trouble, the entire Yangtze River ecosystem is being

poisoned. In spite of being the subject of an ambitious clean-up plan, today the

river is reckoned to be the biggest single source of pollution entering the Pacific

Ocean. Situated right at the mouth of its estuary,Chongming Island provides a vital

resting and feeding spot for migrating shorebirds, and a place which offers

welcome evidence of changing attitudes towards the Yangtze's beleaguered

wildlife. For centuries these coastal mudflats have attracted hunters, like Mr

Jin,who have honed their trapping skills to perfection to put rare birds on the

tables of Shanghai's elite. For 40 years Mr Jin has used a net, simple decoy birds

and a bamboo whistle to lure passing birds towards his nets. It takes both patience

and consummate skill.

But, all is not as it seams’ Jin, like many of the best conservationists, is

poacher turned gamekeeper, using his hunting skills to benefit his old quarry. The

staff here at Dunstan Bird Reserve will measure, ring and weigh the trapped birds

before releasing them unharmed. The information gathered by Mr Jin and his

colleagues helps to protect over different species of birds which visit the island

each year. Just south of Chongqing Island lies China's largest coastal city,

ed on a major migration route for birds as well as river

life,Shanghai is now preparing for an even bigger loaded with

building materials constantly arrive in the city's docks,feeding one of the greatest

construction booms in the world. Last year, half the world's concrete was poured

into China's cities, all in preparation for the biggest mass migration of people in

the history of the world. In the next 25 years, well over 300 million people are

predicted to move from rural China into cities like migration of

people from country to city’s being mirrored around the world, and by over half

of the world's population will be urban dwellers. As night falls, Shanghai reveals its

true 's fastest-growing financial centre’s in the midst of a massive

an estimated population of more than 20 million,Shanghai is officially

China's large stand certainly its most dazzling there is an environmental

ai residents now use two and a half times more power per head than

their rural cousins.

The city's seemingly insatiable energy demands currently require the output

of power stations. South of Shanghai the city lights gradually fades we enter an

ancient world. This is Fujian Province, a rugged terrain guarded by sheer granite

mountains which have helped to forge and preserve some of China's most ancient

sites and traditional cultures. Towering above the coast, the 1400-meter-high Tami

Mountains are known to the Chinese as "Fairyland on the Sea”. Moist sea breezes

condense on the cool mountaintops and combine with well-drained acid soils to

produce the perfect growing conditions for acid-loving plants like wild azaleas.

It’s also home to camellias, including the most famous of all, the tea plant. Similar

growing conditions all along the Fujian coast make this the treasure chest for

China's tea, the heart of an industry dating back almost , years.

One of the most traditional tea-growing cultures in the areas that of the Mejia

people. Every morning, goats are let loose among the tea terraces, a centuries-old

tradition. This might seem surprising given goats' reputation for eating anything

green, but tea isn't as defenseless as it looks. Tea leaves are loaded with bitter

chemicals designed to repel browsing animals. It works on the goats, who leave

the tea untouched and instead eat up the weeds,fertilising the tea plants with their

droppings. The surprise is that we humans should find the same bitter chemical

cocktail utterly irresistible. Among the Mejia people, tea-growing is a family

business. Women do the picking, while the men process and pack items Zhang

belongs to a Mejia family that has lived and worked for generations among these

same tea terraces. The finest tea needs to be gathered quickly in warm sunshine’s

this brings out the flavor-enhancing oils inside the leaves. This sustainable industry

has protected one of China's finest landscapes and one of its most traditional

cultures. At the end of the morning's picking,Mrs Zhang returns home to drop off

her tea ready for processing. This fort-like design has survived from a time when

the Mejia needed to protect themselves against hostile local tribes. Each house has

three or four levels designed to accommodate 50to 250people. The ground

floor houses the kitchens and animal stock with access to a well for water. The first

floor rooms are used for storage and the upper floors are bedrooms. Some of

these remarkable buildings are 800 years old and have survived earthquakes and

typhoons. Once enough tea has been gathered in, the processing begins. Turning

green leaves into saleable tea involves at least eight different stages, including

drying, bruising, sifting, squeezing and twisting, before the finished product is

finally ready for packing. The Zhang's village produces "little black dragon”, or

oolong tea, so called because of the way its twisted leaves unfurl when water is

poured over them. Tea plays a vital part in Mejia life, not only as a source of income,

but also as a way to welcome visitors and bring people together.

In traditional Chinese life, even the simplest cup of tea is poured with an

intricate amount of ritual. In the past, the Mejia people's other main income came

from transporting goods like tea across the treacherous topography of mountains

and river estuaries. Their route was suddenly made easier when, in ,this remarkable

bridge was built. Made from massive -ton slabs of granite, it is one of China's

lesser-known architectural gems. Luoyang Bridge has withstood earthquakes and

tempestuous tides. Known as ", ships launching”, the bridge's piers have

withstood time and tide for almost a millennium. According to folklore, its success

is due to a far-sighted piece of bio-engineering. Oysters were seeded on the piers

and ever since, their concretions have helped cement the granite blocks together.

Today, oysters are still cultivated herein the traditional way by Hsian women.

Stones are stood in the mudflats below the bridge to encourage the oysters to

grow. Luoyang Bridge is now mainly used by locals carrying goods across the

estuary towards the coastal ports. For more than , years, coastal trade in China has

depended on a remarkable and pioneering type of ship, known to us as the junk.

This working vessel follows a general design that’s been in use in Fujian for at

least years. Its bows take the form of a beak, with two large painted eyes evoking

the traditional seafarers' belief that the bird's image would help sailors return

safely, like the migrants that return each spring and autumn. Tea and other goods

were stored in strong bulkheads, each waterproofed and separated from the next

to minimize flood damage. This innovation, introduced to keep precious tea

cargos dry, spurred on the improvement of not only Chinese boats, but Western

ones, too. The distinctive rigging of the junk's sails allows easy handling in bad

weather, essential along this storm-battered coast.

Each year from July to November, up to a dozen typhoons, a corruption of the

Chinese word for "great wind”, head northwest towards China. Typhoons are

becoming more frequent as sea temperatures rise, aided by a global increase in

greenhouse gases, such as carbon dioxide. But satellite pictures have revealed a

surprising twist. It seems that typhoons can pull deep, nutrient-rich seawater up to

the surface causing plankton blooms, which in turn soak up large quantities of

carbon dioxide. When a typhoon strikes, one of the best places to be is Hong Kong

harbor with its sheltered anchorage. A centre of international trade, the city is

famous for its jumble of skyscrapers and its bustling commercial centre. However,

there is a side to Hong Kong that's less well known. Behind the urban sprawl lies a

swathe of wetlands which include the Mai Po Nature Reserve. Managed principally

for the benefit of migrating birds, the reserve maintains a series of traditional

prawn farms, known as gee wais, and their adjoining mangroves and mudflats.

Every two weeks from November to March, one of the gee wais is drained by

opening up the sluice gates. As the water level falls, birds begin to gather.

Herons, egrets and cormorants mingle with a far rarer visitor, the black-faced

spoonbill. These endangered migrants have travelled the length of the Chinese

coastline from Northern China and Po marks the end of a200kilometer

journey during which the birds may have lost up to a third of their body weight.

Four hundred black-faced spoonbills, a quarter of the world's population, pass the

winter here. At low water, trapped shrimps and fish become easy prey, a lifesaver

for these endangered birds. The Mai Po marshes are part of the Pearl River estuary,

whose muddy shores abound with crabs, worms and mudskippers. Exposed at low

tide, this smorgasbord of mud-life attracts both waders and the gee way birds.

Here on the mudflats of Inner Deep Bay, each kind of bird has its own specific

feeding zone defined by the depth of the water, the length of its beak and its

feeding technique.

Once refuelled, they revel in synchronized aerial displays. More than any other

place on China's coastline, Inner Deep Bay demonstrates that, with help, resilient

nature can still thrive, even when boxed inland overshadowed by towering cities

like Shenzhen. Another successful example of man's intervention on behalf of

nature can be glimpsed in the waters around Landau Island. While egrets make the

most of an easy meal, other creatures have their eye on the anglers’ catch.

Chinese white dolphins are estuary specialists. Found widely in the Indian and

Pacific Ocean, this species is rare in China. The young are born dark grey and

become spotted as adolescents, finally turning creamy white as adults, though on

some occasions they may blush a delicate shade of pink. Three groups of dolphins

live close to Landau Island. As the tide comes in, they move with it to feed on small

fish or squid, which travel with the currents, using echolocation to see their prey

through the murky water. They also use sound to communicate. However, they

face a deafening problem. The Pearl Estuary has become one of the busiest

shipping channels in China, and the dolphins are constantly bombarded with

sound. New research suggests that they may now pack more information into

shorter calls in a bid to be heard. Local conservationists have now set up a

protected zone near Landau Island. So, for now, China's white dolphins are holding

on. South of Hong Kong lies the South China Sea, studded with more than

islands and reefs.

Potential reserves of fish, oil and gas make each one strategic, and the whole

region has become a political hot spots territorial disputes simmer between its

many neighboring countries. The waters themselves are low in nutrients and

would be poor in life if it wasn't for the other resource that's here in

the shallows of the coral atolls, small jellyfish point their

tentacles towards the sun. Like many animals here, they depend on a close

partnership with microscopic algae, which turn solar power into food. The most

famous of these relationships is the reef-forming corals, which provide the

foundation of the sea's most dazzling ecosystem. Their branches provide shelter

for a wealth of small and vulnerable creatures, many of them beautifully

camouflaged. But the ultimate master of disguise has to be the octopus, able to

change not only its shape and colour, but its skin texture, too. Where the reefs

meet deeper waters, upwelling currents carry nutrients to the surface. Reef fish

swim out to gorge themselves on the resulting food, in turn attracting larger

predatory fish to the ly prowl in dense rays sweep in on

graceful wings to hover up the remaining plankton, which also attracts the king of

fish. Growing up to metres long, the whale shark is a gentle giant. And these days,

a rare sighting.

As sharks, small and large, are plundered to supply the East Asian shark meat

trade, the fate of these fabulous creatures hangs in the balance. While healthy

coral reefs still survive in the remote islands, the situation close to the Chinese

coast is quite different. The waters along the shores of Hainan, China's largest

tropical island, have been fished for thousands of years. As the reefs become less

and less productive, fishermen from Tan men harbored all their resourcefulness to

make a living. Dicing with death, they breathe air pumped through hose pepsin a

desperate bid to catch the last remaining sea life. Over the years, increased

sedimentation and the use of dynamite and cyanide means the corals close to

shore are barely hanging on. Recently the government has recognized that

regulation is needed if the local fishery is to survive for the future. Fishing is now

banned for two months of the year to allow marine life a chance to breed. One of

the most important tropical habitats for young fish is mangrove swamps. In the

last 14 years, eighty percent of China's mangroves have been destroyed. But at the

Dongzhaigang Mangrove Reserve in Hainan, a remarkable conservation initiatives

bringing young Chinese volunteers together to plant mangrove saplings in the

glutinous mud. For many of these city-born students, such unglamorous work

demonstrates their commitment to their country's environment. Like other heavily

populated countries, China today is faced with a challenge. How best to protect

nature in an increasingly crowded space? These wild macaques live on a tiny

Hainan Island reserve where they are carefully managed and looked after. Most of

the island's hillsides are covered with tropical woodland, but there are also areas of

flower meadows where the monkeys gather to feed. Each morning, as the tropical

sun heats their island, the macaques head downhill in search of somewhere cooler.

And what could be more refreshing than a dip in the pool? To the Chinese,

combining a wildlife reserve with a tourist development makes perfect commercial

sense, and the monkeys don't seem at all unhappy with the deal. The question is

where to draw the line. Like the rest of the world, China is still feeling its way

towards a harmonious relationship with nature. Six hundred years ago the people

who lived here carved this calligraphy in the rocks, announcing it to be "the end of

the world”. In recent years that world has undergone a massive expansions

tourists from all over China have discovered the delights of Hainan's tropical

seaside resorts. By , China's total tourism revenues expected to hit ￡ billion a year.

While insensitive development could destroy China's natural environment,

well-managed eco-tourism could provide huge benefits for China's wildlife. The

issues that face China today, increasing pressure on resources and living space and

quality of environment, are those that face us all. If there is any country in the

world equipped to solve environmental problems on a vast scale, it has to be China,

with its tremendous human resources and powerful political control. The path it

chooses will affect not just its own people and its natural environment, but the rest

of the world, too.