I'm Jeremy Wade, biologist and extreme angler.
I travel the world investigating cases of legendary river monsters,
of creatures that lurk beneath the surface of our awareness.
During the course of my investigations I've found that, however fantastic the tale,
there's always a grain of truth.
Fish fact can be just as fascinating as fish fiction.
I've come to Japan, a place that's home to more stories
about river monsters than any place I've been to before.
This is the first time I've been to Japan, and I have to confess I'm a little daunted
by the challenge of separating hard river-monster fact
from local lore and tradition.
I could be out of my depth.
But one thing I'm sure of: Real or imagined, I'm going to meet monsters
unlike any I have ever encountered before.
One down here, or it might be two.
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll
Japan, for its size, has a huge population -
over 127 million people -
mostly crammed into the major cities.
As always, it seems a metropolis is an unlikely place
to start an adventure to find river monsters.
But Japan still has its wild and remote areas...
although as yet, I have no idea where my adventure will take me.
I've only just arrived and already I feel overwhelmed,
but I have to focus.
My first step is to get background information about the river monsters I hunt.
So in the morning, I will head to the kind of place
where I know I can get the best local intelligence.
I'm looking for Japan's legendary river monsters, so I've come to the Tokyo fish market
where you've got an amazing concentration of fish,
but more importantly, the people who know about the fish.
It's five in the morning and, already, this place is like Grand Central Station.
The Japanese, as a nation, are just obsessed by fish.
The figures here are staggering: Something like half a million tonnes
of fish and seafood come through this market every year.
That actually makes it one of the biggest, if not the biggest, fish markets in the whole world.
To help me get started, I've brought a translator with me.
Her name is Mai Nishiyama and she will accompany me around the market.
Straightaway, something grabs my attention.
It's off to a bit of a tangent, but this is something I did want to see when I came here.
A different kind of river monster. This is small but it can kill you.
The way it kills you is, if you eat the wrong bit, that's it.
Called fugu, it contains one of the deadliest toxins in the world.
It can kill within two hours, and an average of six people a year die from eating it.
Why are they selling it here? If you eat the right bits, you're OK.
It takes, I think, three years to train as a chef to prepare this blowfish.
It's a clear example of the extremely close connection
the Japanese have with all things watery -
a mixture of fear and respect.
My search, though, is not for saltwater monsters, but freshwater ones,
so I head deeper into the market.
People start talking.
I'm trying to find Japan's legendary river monsters.
- Monsters? - What do they look like?
- (Speaks Japanese) - In old times, maybe, was there something?
- And his hands are... - Webbed? Like a...
- Yeah. - But it lives in the water?
- That's what he thinks. - What do people say it looks like?
Normally living in the swamp. It has a tail, as well.
- (Speaks Japanese) - This is a story that a lot of people know?
That was actually a very productive morning.
Talking to the people at the fish market,
there were two river monsters which kept coming to the surface.
One is this hideous, scaly gremlin called the Kappa.
This is reported to drag unwary children down into the depths, where it devours them.
The other is a creature of altogether a different magnitude.
It's said to be responsible for more human deaths
than all the other river monsters I've encountered
in other parts of the world put together.
Its name is the Namazu and, apparently, it's not just a legend.
The people say that it lives to this day in an ancient lake
in the middle of Honshu island.
At 260 square miles, Lake Biwa is Japan's largest freshwater lake
and dates back some four million years,
making it one of the oldest lakes in the world.
To get there, it's two hours by bullet train.
Japan is like nowhere I've been to before.
Ancient tradition and steel modernity sit so comfortably side by side.
But will there still be living evidence of the legends I seek in this day and age?
Or have the river monsters been swallowed up by this progress?
To find out before I head onto Lake Biwa,
Mai has arranged for me to meet with an anthropologist from the Shiga University,
who's going to tell me more about the legends of these monsters and where to find them.
We meet outside an ancient shrine,
a place 100 years away from the city I left only two hours ago.
His name is Professor Kuroda and he grew up surrounded by these legends.
- In the sea. - That's right.
I first ask him about the Kappa.
Professor Kuroda says that when he was a child, he was told not to go swimming
because the Kappa would actually come and take your spirit.
- Did you believe that as a child? - (Speaks Japanese)
Yes, he believed it, and he tells me that, when he was a child,
two of his classmates drowned in a nearby river.
He was told then that their deaths had been the work of the sinister Kappa.
So what does it actually look like, this creature?
It's about the size of a child. Some of the details are a bit hazy,
but what people are very sure about it that is has some kind of plate on its head.
Some people say that it has a shell on its back.
But the thing that everybody's clear about is that it's got hands -
but they're not hands like we have hands.
They are hands with webbed fingers,
which I suppose makes sense, because it lives in the water.
Creatures that live in the water, very often, you can't see them clearly - you just see a bit.
Over the years, people see one bit, another bit...
They put them all together and what we've got,
in the case of the Kappa, is this composite water monster.
This information, although appalling, takes me no nearer to finding the truth
about the identity of the terrifying Kappa.
I change tack and ask instead about the Namazu.
So can you tell me, what is the old belief about the Namazu?
There is a... huge one of these creatures living under the ground.
Legend goes that there is a catfish that lives under the earth.
When it wriggles its massive body,
it causes the huge earthquakes that frequently torment Japan.
To protect the people, Kashima, a water god,
placed a huge stone on the Namazu to prevent it from moving.
However, every so often, the god loses concentration
and relaxes his pressure on the stone,
and the catfish wriggles attempting to free itself,
causing more earthquakes.
Japan has over 1,000 earthquakes a year.
It is a constant threat, putting millions of lives at risk.
Are these regular earth tremors really the work of a giant catfish?
It's a startling story with one massive stumbling block -
there is not a catfish alive that could have such an effect as this.
So my challenge is to find a possible connection in the real world
between catfish and earthquakes.
Maybe the answer lies out on the lake.
With only a few hours of daylight left, I plan to scout the area
and try to get my head around the immensity of my challenge.
Straightaway, it's clear that the modern world is fast closing in on this ancient lake.
The kit my fishing guides have suggested I use doesn't look capable of landing a monster,
but this 80 lb braided line has landed fish of over 100 lb.
Using a very clever lure here.
The idea is, it represents a frog
and that hook's not going to get caught in the weed,
but when the fish comes along...
it does get caught in the fish,
so a very clever, weed-free artificial frog.
No swirls, no furrows, no nothing so far.
Lake Biwa is like two lakes in one.
The South, where I am now, is weedy and shallow.
The North is much deeper, plummeting to over 300 feet.
This part is a more likely hideout of a monster catfish
that might have inspired these earth-moving legends,
and it is where I plan to fish tomorrow.
Fishing on the surface with a lure that's making a bit of noise, bit of commotion,
and the rain gives a certain amount of interference.
They can't hear it from quite so far away.
Change of lure... to make a bit more noise.
Ah! I think it missed...
And it seems to be getting some interest.
Come on, come on. (Chuckles)
Something went for it and just missed it.
- My luck is about to change... - Fish on!
But what have I hooked?
Don't know what that is. It's very long.
It's a catfish!
This thing hit it as soon as it hit the water. Just whacked into it.
It's certainly not a monster, but who knows?
Could it be the progeny of the legendary Namazu?
Very, very similar in appearance, this, to the European Wels catfish.
Elongated shape, big mouth, little eyes...
and those two long whiskers on the upper jaw.
This is unexpected, although I have caught a few catfish on lures.
But this is not the giant that is behind all the legends.
There are, in fact, three different species of catfish in the lake.
What is confusing is that they call them all "Namazu".
But this one is not the one that I'm after.
That is considerably larger than this one.
My target is the giant Namazu,
or, as it is known locally,
the Biwako O-Namazu.
My plan for tomorrow is to head further north, hire a bigger boat
and fish on through the night.
Because what I'm looking for is so unusual,
I want to make sure that, before I leave the city, I've got all the gear I need,
and also I might just find one or two final pieces of information.
These fishing-tackle shops are just a great place to get the inside information.
I discover that Lake Biwa is full of introduced fish species,
including predatory Snakehead - fish that I've had dealings with in the past.
Another surprise is that it seems no-one actually fishes for the Giant Namazu.
Do people want to avoid angering this monster?
It seems incredible, but I'm about to enter new territory.
But first, I want to understand what these fish are being accused of.
I've come to a facility run by the fire department
where they teach people what to do in the event of an earthquake.
OK, I'm ready.
I'm experiencing the same force as the Kobe earthquake 15 years ago.
And it is here where I get the clearest indication of the link
between the Namazu and earthquakes.
Its image adorns every earthquake emergency poster throughout Japan.
But how did the two first become connected?
That was really unnerving, and I actually knew that that was coming.
What I don't get, though, is how a fish could've been responsible for something like that.
Is there really a fish that's big enough to make the earth move?
With no data from previous catches,
could there be a colossal fish still living in the lake
which, in the days before science, inspired their earthquake-causing reputation?
There's only one way to find out, and that is to catch one.
This time, I'm heading north into the deeper section of this ancient lake.
The size of this lake gives me hope - it's big enough and deep enough to hide a monster.
But that's also what makes this challenge so daunting - the sheer volume of water.
I've got a little shiny, bright jig.
I'm letting it sink down to the bottom
and I'm just flicking it along the bottom.
Catfish tend to be nocturnal, so I'm intending to fish into the night,
through the night, but there's still a bit of light at the moment,
so I'm working a spoon very close to the bottom,
just in case something's on the move already.
I've come to a sheltered bay in the lee of an island.
Quite a nice spot, fairly close to the side.
I'll try a variety of techniques through the night and...
if there's something moving,
one of them might take an interest.
Catfish don't rely on eyesight much.
They can follow chemical trails in the water, and also vibrations.
Catfish, like all fish, possess a lateral line
which enables them to sense these vibrations.
But they also have these barbels that allow them to picture their world using smell.
So I've got a bait down on the bottom.
Sit back. It'll be a waiting game, then.
As I settle in, I think about other catfish that I've caught before,
especially those Wels in Spain,
a catfish with space and food to grow to truly monstrous proportions.
The Giant Namazu comes from the same family as the Wels,
and with this much space and lots of food, I'm certain there is a giant
lurking beneath the surface of this lake.
By daybreak, the giant has still eluded me.
We try another spot, but the weather conditions are deteriorating rapidly.
After 24 rain-drenched hours and little sleep,
nothing feels like it's going my way.
And as another evening closes in, I have still not had any fish,
let alone a giant catfish.
Maybe I'm going in the wrong direction and need to rethink my strategy.
I've noticed there are a lot of commercial fishermen on Lake Biwa.
Perhaps it's time to seek some professional help.
Outside the local fishing association offices, I meet with Mr Sukuda.
- How long have you been fishing? - (Replies in Japanese)
For 30 years. And what fish are you normally after?
So Mr Sukuda fishes for eels here, and he uses...
- (Speaks Japanese) a long line, a very long line.
Over a mile, with about 150-200 hooks on.
So he had one Namazu last year. This year, nothing at all.
That's really putting into perspective how scarce, how hard to catch these are.
- What kind of size? - (Replies in Japanese)
1.8... that's about five-and-a-half foot, isn't it?
At last, a connection between catfish and earthquakes.
These are the giant Lake Biwa catfish.
I have come to Lake Biwa Aquarium.
It seems to be the only place where I'm going to see one of these giants close up.
Brought here ten years ago, they are now over five feet long.
These two are the closest that anyone ever gets to the legendary Namazu,
save one or two freak catches out on the lake.
And, as catfish live for so long, I wonder how big they could be in another ten years.
I can see how fish this size might inspire legends,
but I think the belief that they can cause earthquakes has to be taking things a bit far.
I've been talking to the fishermen, but perhaps it's time I started talking to some scientists.
So I've set up a meeting with Professor Yada,
who is doing some startling experiments in this area.
What's this over here?
The experiment in this tank is actually an attempt to quantify this observation,
that Namazu gets more active before earthquakes.
Normally, the fish just sits on the bottom not doing very much.
There's a light beam.
And every time the fish passes through the light beam, this counter records it.
On an average day, it might break that light beam ten times.
There's a counter on the left there.
Then Professor Yada cross-references the Namazu's movements
with data about earthquake activity.
But here we have, a couple of months ago, normal activity - not very much -
but on one day here, more than 60 times...
And that red line there, there was an earthquake, magnitude 6.1.
So it seems to show a real correlation, a quantifiable correlation,
between Namazu activity and earthquakes.
How exactly these catfish are able to detect these earthquakes so early is unclear,
but one thing is certain: They can, and long before any human being.
It's the connection and the evidence I was looking for,
because I believe, in the ancient world, the world when this legend was created -
in a time before science -
fishermen would witness this increased activity and soon afterwards experience an earthquake.
They couldn't help but connect the two events.
But instead of this activity being a reaction to the faint early tremors,
they perceived it as the earthquake's cause
and, in a country obsessed with fish,
which also suffers regular, devastating earthquakes,
the legend of the Namazu was born.
And I certainly haven't given up trying to catch one!
What I've actually found is that nobody actually fishes for Namazu here. They just don't do it.
But I have hooked up with a local fisherman who has caught a few accidentally
and I've figured that, together with his local knowledge,
my general knowledge of catfish, fishing in other parts...
At least I'll have a decent crack at it.
We set off before dusk.
We are right at the top of the lake.
We doubly secure the boat to stop us from moving around too much,
and then I bait the trap.
Although we're near the bank, the depth sounder tells us
that there is a ledge that drops away to 100 feet.
That's pretty deep. That's very deep.
It's a place that Mr Sukuda fishes for eels.
I have been in this position more times than I can remember,
craving that rush of line, that screaming reel.
As darkness envelops me, Mr Sukuda has a surprise waiting for me in his bait box.
Biwako?
- Biwako Namazu. - Ah! Right, OK.
So in the bait tank here,
we actually have one of the Giant Lake Biwa Namazu.
I say "giant" - I mean the species is known as Giant. This is a small one.
This is a... This one's a couple of foot long,
but this is actually the species I'm after,
so they... they do exist here and they are catchable.
- A net. Kago. - Ah! A trap?
- Mm. Trap. - Ah, right.
It was caught in an eel trap.
So this is one of the Giant Lake Biwa Namazu, but this is a small one.
They go, possibly, to about six foot long, something like that.
Very, very similar in general shape to the European Wels catfish.
Maybe slightly darker in colour.
And this poor, damaged, trap-caught catfish is as close as I am to come
to one of this lake's giants.
This investigation has shown me that, in Japan, I have to think differently
and my mission is far from over.
So it turns out there is something very real behind the legend of the Namazu,
but what about that other legend which seems, if anything, even more far-fetched - the Kappa,
the creature in the water whose preferred victims are children?
Japan's most infamous river monster, the Kappa,
has been accused of horrifying crimes for centuries.
Although strong enough to kill cattle and horses,
its preferred victims are children.
Descriptions of the Kappa vary,
but the common features seem to be a wide mouth, a long body
and mottled skin in shades of brown and green...
and it is always associated with water...
often taking its victims completely unawares.
It drowns its victims and sucks their spirit out of them.
And although widely seen as just a legend,
I've heard how this monster has been blamed for the deaths of children.
Professor Kuroda told me about his two school friends
whose drowning was attributed to the sinister Kappa.
Everyone I speak to in Japan seems to know of this monster.
I've also been told about a famous shrine to the Kappa...
a place where people make offerings
to keep this sinister river monster away from their children.
I'm hoping there'll be some sort of statue or picture
to help me work out exactly what it is that I'm dealing with.
And there it is.
So that is the Kappa.
Fascinating-looking creature. Almost humanoid in some ways.
Four limbs, but then it's got these claws - three claws on each limb,
and almost like fish scales.
You know, it's obviously a very, very powerful mental image
that people have.
Everything here - these are all offerings.
There's sake there, there's even some water,
there's books, there's all sorts of drawings...
But everything - offerings that people have left here.
What I'm really interested in is finding out...
what real creature might have actually given rise to the Kappa.
- (Speaks Japanese) - I talk with a monk
who seems to be in charge of looking after the shrine.
It looks like the Kappa is still very much alive in people's minds
but finding a real one is gonna be a different matter entirely.
However, I have heard of a place
where apparently there is a mummified Kappa.
That is definitely something I've got to see for myself.
Well, I'm in Japan, hunting down a river monster known as the Kappa.
Maybe the answer I'm looking for is inside this building.
Well, here it is.
I have to say, it is quite a creepy-looking thing, whatever it is.
The skin, shrunken over the bones.
And although it's very clearly dead,
it does actually have the sense that it's looking out at you.
Apparently, it was found in the roof space here
about 50 years ago, inside this box
and they've created this shrine to it.
It's never been scientifically examined but I think the feeling is that, by honouring it,
they are allowing it to continue to protect the brewery.
It's some 400 years old,
which dates it back to the Edo period of Japan,
a time of superstition and fantasy.
And as I draw its details, I have my suspicions
as to what this mummified creature might be.
Well... Fascinating-looking thing.
I didn't want to say too much in there
because I don't think that's any kind of real animal at all.
I think it's more something that's been made from bits of different animals,
which is actually not that uncommon in the old days in Japan.
So it's not the answer that I'm looking for
but I think that, in a strange way, it takes me closer towards the answer
because if that is the kind of animal that people think the Kappa is,
then maybe I'm not looking for a fish, after all.
This could be my strangest case yet.
Even though I'm struggling to identify what the Kappa might be,
it's clear that the story is very much alive, even in modern-day Japan.
Part of the purpose of that is to keep children away
from potentially-dangerous water.
I've come to Kyoto University to meet somebody who can tell me
what else there is, besides fish, that lives in Japanese rivers.
Professor Matsui, can you tell me about
what is living in the rivers in Japan, apart from the fish?
Turtles - now, that instantly triggers my thought process.
I have encountered large turtles before. Could the Kappa be a turtle?
It would have to be a giant to inspire this legend.
How big do the turtles grow?
- The biggest out there is... not so big. - Nearly 50cm.
- Nearly 50? - Yeah.
- That's about 50cm. Something like that? - Yeah.
Not big enough to be the child-snatching Kappa,
but turtles have clearly influenced the legend,
as the Kappa is sometimes depicted with a shell.
But as we talk further, Professor Matsui tells me
of a creature known locally as the Hanzaki,
which lives in rivers and grows nearly six feet long, but it is very rare now.
To find one, I'll have to travel into the remote hills...
to meet a man who has dedicated his life to studying this mysterious creature.
Is this another Japanese wild-goose chase?
Or have I found my river monster?
But even before I get a chance to find out... the weather intervenes.
And after two days of solid rain, its effects are clear for all to see.
I've had to put my hunt for the Kappa on hold for a while,
because several days of heavy rain have just turned the city rivers into raging torrents,
so the mountain streams are just gonna be far too dangerous.
I'm just gonna have to wait for the water to quieten down again.
Even the animals that are adapted for an aquatic lifestyle are struggling in this deluge.
There's a turtle down here.
That's one possible thing that the Kappa could be,
but actually, these guys don't grow very big.
If they did, that would be a possibility.
The creature I hunt is high in the hills.
After another day of waiting, I finally get to leave the city and head into the country...
to find my river monster and to keep an appointment.
I meet Mr Toshimoto in his riverside institute
dedicated to the study of the Hanzaki.
He shows me a skeleton,
but he assures me this one comes from a real creature.
So here it is, but in some ways, I'm none the wiser.
It does look very fish-like.
It looks a bit like a mixture between catfish, lungfish and eel,
but it's not as simple as that - there are other bones here, as well.
It's a middle-sized one. It's three feet long, but that's just a middle-sized one.
That could easily... grab hold of my hand.
- Same hand. - Mm-hm.
Some photographs in here of bite marks on hands, which is...
starting to concentrate my mind a bit.
- Very sharp. - Yes.
So in daytime, if I put my hands underneath stones,
I should be a little bit careful, maybe?
Well, I've come to the right place. I'm off now to look for a Hanzaki in the wild.
Mr Toshimoto accompanies me on my hunt.
He has been studying the Hanzaki in this river for the past 30 years.
He knows their habits and where to find them.
But not only that - Hanzaki are a protected species,
so if I wasn't assisting Mr Toshimoto with his ongoing study,
I wouldn't even be allowed to get near them.
This animal has sharp teeth that will cut my fingers if they went anywhere near its mouth,
so I've got my biteproof Kevlar gloves on.
I'm gonna go down with this underwater camera.
Just try and see if I can find one, see where it is and then go down and try and grab it.
At a waterfall, he tells me he has caught Hanzaki here in the past.
It's a good place for them to hunt.
There are plenty of fish here.
I try the other side. The current is surprisingly strong,
but I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm hoping to confront.
But I think I've hit the jackpot.
There's one down here, or it might be two. There's a tail sticking out.
It's about four or five foot down in the water, but it's right underneath this rock.
It did move. As I came past, it did sort of shuffle further in.
Toshimoto-san, the problem is, I just have a little bit of tail sticking out.
- (Speaks Japanese) So hold the tail? Grab tight?
- OK, OK. - OK. So grab tight?
And then in the net? OK.
I'm worried it might double round and have a go at me.
Reassured by Mr Toshimoto, with my new and peculiar weight belt,
I go in to confront my monster.
It is a tough and robust animal,
so I need to get a firm grip for its safety - and mine.
I am way out of my comfort zone.
This isn't a monster I can catch on the end of a line.
I've got to use my hands.
Whoa! I've got it!
I have caught a Hanzaki, better known as the giant Japanese salamander,
one of the largest salamanders in the world...
and the creature that I believe is behind the Kappa legend.
They get bigger than this - but wow! This creature is aggressive,
even though we mean it no harm.
The good thing is that these guys, unlike fish,
are just as at home on land as they are in the water.
Pretty soon, he calms down.
That is a Hanzaki, noodled.
And I'm very pleased that, even with my gloves on,
my hands stayed away from that mouth.
He wasn't too amused
by the fact that he was just pulled out of his hole like that.
But this, I think,
is the creature I've been after.
Looks a bit like a fish, but it's got hands - and that's exactly what this has got.
Mr Toshimoto is monitoring the health of the Hanzaki population along this river...
It's nearly ten pounds.
measuring, weighing and micro-tagging every one of his catches...
Counting all the digits. All normal.
so that when he re-captures them, he can build up a clear picture
of how this incredibly rare animal is faring in the wild.
Best part of a yard long.
And now we have collected a new one for his study.
This is an animal that hasn't been caught before.
It doesn't have a chip in it, so that's a really good capture.
Normally, I wouldn't be allowed to touch this,
but the fact that I'm acting as Mr Toshimoto's assistant
means that I'm able to work with this animal.
There are only a few pockets
of these endangered giant wild salamanders left in the wild,
these creatures that haven't changed since the age of the dinosaurs.
Their survival is an important part of Japan's natural heritage.
When I try to release it, this national treasure
still makes one last attempt to bite me...
before disappearing, unfazed by his capture.
As darkness falls, my goal is simple.
I want to catch an even larger one,
one that is big enough to potentially pull a child underwater.
I struggled to avoid getting bitten by the last one.
I wonder how I will tackle a giant at night.
Since these salamanders are reputed to grow to nearly six feet long,
I'm not even sure I want to.
Giant Japanese salamanders are under threat from an unusual source -
their closest living relatives.
Introduced Chinese salamanders
have started breeding with the native Japanese giants, creating hybrids.
When any Chinese or hybrid salamanders are found,
they have to be removed from the river.
Mr Toshimoto keeps a collection of them back at the institute.
Right. Take a look at this.
This was caught from a river just a few miles from here.
But this one's a hybrid, so this doesn't get put back in the river
and this is why I can have a good look at it.
This guy is nearly four foot long.
When they get this big, with no natural predators, they're fearless.
Now, those descriptions I heard of the Kappa,
it sounded just like this composite animal,
a mixture of different bits of different animals.
And, I mean, what is there that is like that? Well, I think this is it - the giant salamander.
You've got the flat head, the wide mouth,
long, muscular body -
complete with this powerful tail -
and then, last but not least, you've got these limbs.
It's just like a fish with limbs.
Now, if you saw one of these down in your local stream,
I can fully understand you not wanting your child to swim there.
Unlike most river monsters I encounter,
which like deep, dark water,
these salamanders live in small, crystal-clear rivers,
the kind of streams you would let your children play in.
But that doesn't mean that they are easy to see.
These salamanders are mainly nocturnal...
so you might never know you have one of these giants living in your local river...
and catching just fleeting glimpses of it would only add to its mystique - and its horror.
And watching them catch a fish, you can see how the idea came about
that the Kappa kills its victim by sucking out its soul.
These voracious predators literally vacuum up their food.
If it doesn't kill you in its jaws, then a more sinister fate awaits you...
imprisoned alive in its stomach, while you slowly dissolve.
This investigation has taken me into new territory in more ways than one.
My mission is always to find the truth behind the legend,
but as soon as I arrived in Japan, the task felt overwhelming,
with stories of earthquake-causing catfish and child-snatching killers.
But I have found what I believe to be the truth behind these tales,
and the one thing that I will take away with me from Japan
is the knowledge that the wall between truth and fantasy is sometimes paper-thin.
I can fully understand how this creature could inspire legends...
and, in my book, it certainly qualifies as a river monster.
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll