From encounters with a brown-eared bulbul, a kingfisher, a Japanese white-eye, to an icterine bunting, the author reflects on Kyoto’s unparalleled natural richness. At the same time, he denounces the unbearable ignorance and vulgarity of the U.S. policymakers who once decided to drop the atomic bomb on Kyoto—and those who inherited their mindset.

Not only yesterday’s brown-eared bulbul—two or three days ago I heard from a local fisherman that a kingfisher had appeared, and astonishingly, the very next day, a kingfisher with a small fish in its beak suddenly flew before my eyes with a swift whoosh.

It goes without saying that I captured the finest photograph.

Yesterday was not limited to the bulbul alone.

I was on my way to an udon shop for lunch when, standing before a soba restaurant that I had always previously passed by without a second thought, I suddenly had a premonition and changed my plans to go inside.

From the seat to which I was guided, I could see a small courtyard garden across from me where persimmons were hanging.

At that very moment, something glided swiftly in.

From that movement alone, I instantly thought, “Ah, this must be a Japanese white-eye.”

I hurriedly took my camera out of my bag, moved beside the table where two young women were seated, and fired off a series of instant shots. When I checked them after returning home, there were no fewer than fifty.

Needless to say, they were magnificent photographs.

As I was leaving the shop, I noticed the signs: “Purveyor to the Head Temple Tenryū-ji” and “Purveyor to the Head Temple Myōshin-ji.” I could not help but think, naturally so.

If that is the case, then perhaps my encounter with the white-eye was arranged by Musō Soseki. (smile)

And today, just now, as I was sitting in the rest shelter at my current favorite spot in Arashiyama, what should appear but an icterine bunting perched on a branch right before my eyes.

That Kyoto is the greatest city in the world surely also lies in the richness of its nature. As I have mentioned before, for example, the scenery surrounding Ōsawa-no-ike at Daikaku-ji still preserves, as it was, the landscape of the Heian period around the year 800, when Emperor Saga founded it and when Kūkai himself lived and was involved—such is its astonishing preservation.

I am convinced that therein lies the very root of Japan’s greatness and beauty. That is why I love Kyoto so deeply.

From this vantage point, one can sometimes see everything clearly.

For instance, the so-called “cultural figures,” typified by Kenzaburō Ōe, who grew up reading the Asahi Shimbun, in truth know nothing at all about Kyoto in its real sense.

They know only their own rural hometowns, their own families, Tokyo, and the Western world to which each of them has become infatuated.

And one more thing that I have increasingly come to think lately is the unbearable ignorance and vulgarity of the U.S. policymakers of the time who had decided to drop the atomic bomb on this very Kyoto. Their successors would be Gerald Curtis, and his disciples Carol Gluck and Alexis Dudden, along with those who the other day, as if offering a helping hand to the Asahi Shimbun, placed a truly laughable opinion advertisement together with them.

They are the very embodiment of vulgarity and ignorance.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that they represent the very depths of baseness.