Taiwan Today

Every morning at seven, Chen Guan-ying (陳冠英) gets into a waterproof jumpsuit and rubber boots. Then he trudges down the paved path dividing two long rows of ponds to feed his eels. Chen is in charge of eel culture at the Fwu Sow Marine Products Co. in Lukang, a small town in Changhua County, located in the heart of Taiwan's western coast. This morning he is also car­rying a weighing scale. Once a week young eels are scooped up in basins, and they are weighed and measured to monitor their growth before being thrown back into the pool. The feeding crew follows Chen, pushing wheelbarrows loaded with mush made of spiced fishmeal mixed with water. The spice is a company secret. "It's what makes the eels rush to the feed," says Chen.

The feed is dumped into a shallow net hanging from a gap at the dock's edge and suspended on the water's surface. Suddenly, there are wild ripples in the water as hundreds of eels swim up from the bottom of the four-foot-deep pond. They slip through the holes in the net, slithering and slapping their way to the mounds of mush. In forty minutes, Chen and his crew have fed thousands of the snakelike fish. Eels in a feeding frenzy are repulsive to watch, but for Chen, nothing is more attractive and satisfying than a heavy, hungry mob of eels.

His enthusiasm is easy to understand. Eels lead Taiwan's aquaculture exports. Over the last five years, an average of US$450 million worth were exported to Japan alone. In 1990, total production amounted to 56,000 metric tons, and 90 percent of the 46,000 metric tons exported went to Japan. With six acres of ponds, Fwu Sow has one of the larger eel farms in Taiwan. And its whole annual harvest of 50 metric tons goes to Japan. Most of the eel farms are located on the western coast, because of the area's warm climate and good supply of ground water.

Chen has been in eel culture for twenty years, but he thinks that its hal­cyon days ended many years ago. "The best time," he says, "was in 1977 and 1978. There was hardly any competition from inside or outside Taiwan. Young eels were easy to get, and the company could afford to hire many more worker than we have now."

During that time, the best market price for a kilo of eel was approximately NT$400, or the equivalent of US$10 at the exchange rate then. Today, the aver­age price per kilo is NT$260, still approximately US$10. But, according to Chen, the cost of feed has gone up by 50 percent, and labor 100 percent. He says, "The profit is so thin I can barely cover my cost. The large eel farms have had to close down." Most of the eel farms existing today are small, family-run opera­tions. Chen says that profits from the marine feeds the company produces have kept the ponds running.

Eel culture was introduced to Taiwan by Japanese fish farmers in the early 1960s. Eel was by no means a popular food on the island; they were fed to the ducks. But the Japanese method of stringing lines of fish on the water's sur­face for feed was not successful. The fish rotted in Taiwan's hot and muggy cli­mate, and the eels got sick from eating them. The Lukang branch of the Taiwan Fisheries Research Institute (TFRI) came up with a better feed: chicken and duck eggs. In turn, the high cumulative cost of eggs led to research in formulated feeds. They were introduced into the market in the 1970s, marking the beginning of prosperous, commercial-scale eel culture.

It was a late beginning. And although eel takes the lead in aquaculture exports, it lags behind the rest of the industry in technology. The farms depend solely on the sea for the supply of young eels; at­ tempts at artificial hatchery have pro­duced eels that do not survive longer than twenty-five days. And sea pollution has led to a dwindling supply of young eels. Says Chen, "The mainland has plenty of them. But the authorities there are saving them for their own eel farms. So suppliers smuggle them in."

While young eels come from salt water, they can be sustained and raised in freshwater ponds equipped with aerating wheels. Huge quantities of fresh water are needed for two purposes: to keep the pond water clean and supplied with oxygen, and to maintain its temperature. Since many of the island's rivers are polluted, eel farmers resort to pumping ground water. The advantage of using ground water is that its temperature remains steady year-round. In the summers, it cools the ponds, and in the winters, it keeps them warm. Optimum water tem­perature for raising eels is 25 degrees centigrade. Below 20 degrees, the eels will starve themselves to death, and over 28 degrees, they will eat but their growth is stunted.

Every three months, the eels are separated according to size. And after a year, at 200 grams each, they are ready for the wholesalers, who either ship' the eels live to Japan in styrofoam boxes packed with ice and oxygen, or to processing factories on the island. The biggest mar­ket for live and processed eels is Japan, where the eel's oiliness is believed to be able to replenish energy in the hot sum­mer months. Because its climate has made the year-round culture of eel im­practicable, Japan relies heavily on im­ports to fill customer demand. Although 90 percent of Taiwan's eel produce goes to Japan, it fills only a little more than half of the Japanese market's demand. Mainland China and Malaysia have emerged as the strongest competitors in the eel trade.

Like Chen, other farmers raising dif­ferent species of fish have seen better days. In fact, the aquaculture business has been declining steadily since it reached its peak in 1987. The figures are misleading at first glance. Total production in 1990 was 344,263 metric tons, a 12 percent increase over the 1987 figure. But a look at production value figures tells the truth. Total production value in 1990 was US$1.1 billion, but that of 1987 was US$1.3 billion. In other words, production has gone up, but profits have dropped.

There are two types of aqua­culture: marine and inland. Marine culture includes cage culture and shallow-sea culture. In cage culture, fish are raised in nets lo­cated close to the coastline. The nets are kept afloat by buoys, and are anchored to the bottom of the sea. Major species are red, yellow, and black sea bream, and grouper. The advantages of cage culture are that the fish are raised in their natural environment, and specially devised feeds only supple­ment seaweed. The disadvantages are that the nets—and the fish in them—can easily be stolen. Also, typhoons and seasonal winds can damage the nets, allowing the fish to escape. Cage culture is a method often used in the Penghu archipelago, located southwest of Taiwan.

Oysters are cultured in shallow coastal waters. Because of pollution, oyster farming is limited to certain areas, mostly along the central western coast. It also demands tedious manual work and cooperative weather. Production level is low, and the entire harvest goes to the domestic market.

Inland culture includes freshwater and brackish water ponds, and cage culture in lakes and reservoirs. The major species are carp, tilapia, shrimp, eel, and milkfish. Tilapia, milkfish, and grass prawn may be raised in either fresh or brackish water. Freshwater aquaculture takes place in ponds, reservoirs, or lakes. But the large-scale culture of many freshwater and brackish water species are being done in ponds, which crowd Tai­wan's southwestern coast.

As of 1990, aquaculture covered close to 190,000 acres, with 146,000 acres in ponds, reservoirs, and lakes. Shallow sea culture took up 23 percent of the total, or 44,000 acres. In 1990, there were close to 153,000 farmers in aquaculture, and most worked in the western part of the island, where the coasts are shallow and sandy, and trans­portation is more efficient.

Presently, there are seventy species of marine life under commercial culture, from finfish to shellfish and seaweed to crocodiles. Major products as of 1990 were milkfish, eel, tilapia, oyster, carp, and prawn. There are also thirty-five species whose commercial culture is un­der research. They include sea cucumber, gobies, bear prawns, and red and green algae.

Taiwan's aquaculture, particularly freshwater culture, has an impressive history. In the past two decades, govern­ment-funded research institutes have re­sponded with great success to the challenges of aquaculture. The ponds benefited from major breakthroughs in larval rearing, artificial propagation, and genetic engineering, which ensured high growth rates. And the formulation of high-protein feeds contributed to healthy fish. For farmers in the 1970s, hardships centered around ensuring the survival of cultured fish. Today, the problems have little to do with skills or techniques.

"We're skilled enough now," says Wu Chia-sung (吳家淞), a fish farmer in Taoyuan, northern Taiwan. "It's the fish prices that trouble us. They're too unpre­dictable." Wu explain that the price changes every day depending on supply. He adds, "The truth is, all farmers, now are just about equal in skill and knowledge. So the situation hasn't changed. We just keep producing more fish." In the last twenty years, Wu has raised different types of fish, abandoning each one for the next more profitable species. He has cul­tured carp, grass prawn, sweetfish, and mullet, and now produces fry for grouper, sweetfish, and perch.

Indeed, there have been too many fish on the market. Take milkfish, for exam­ple. In 1989, total production amounted to 21,000 metric tons. But the following year, the figure jumped more than four times to over 90,000 metric tons. The price per kilo went from NT$47 (US$1.70) to NT$31 (US$1.15). There were more milkfish than the farmers, wholesalers, consumers, and government could handle. They were left to rot, and the farmers simply had to cut their losses.

Tilapia culture developed quickly in the late 1960s, and it is now a mainstay in the market. There are eight species of the fish being cultured on the island. They can be raised in either brackish or freshwater ponds, and culturing is fairly easy. Tilapia had its heyday in the 1970s. But in the last ten years, annual production volume has remained steady at 50,000 metric tons. Its abundance has made it one of the cheap­est fish on the market. In 1990, a kilo of tilapia cost NT$32 (US$1.20), while the average price for other fish was NT$61 (US$2.25) per kilo. Many farmers have lost their interest in the fish. But not Jim J. Chang (張晉嘉), who was recently honored by the Taiwan Provincial Government as one of Taiwan's top ten fish­ers for 1990. He isn't complaining about the price of his red tilapia, which sells for double the market price.

Chang uses a system that took him and his father over ten years to design and develop. The system involves continu­ously circulating water. Thirty-two small ponds, 100 sq. meters each in size, sur­round a 6,400 sq. meter pond. Each of the small ponds is equipped with a filter and two paddle wheel aerators to keep the water from stagnating. The waste water is filtered into the big pond, in which algae grows. The system reduces waste water, as well as the dependence on formulated feeds. And because of the clean water, the fish are healthier and they acquire a richer orange-red color. The constantly moving water keeps them swimming, and their activeness, says Chang, improves the texture of their meat. "That's why I can get a good price for my tilapia," he says.

While most tilapia farmers harvest once a year, Chang harvests three times a year. He also raises a great many more tilapia. According to Chang, he keeps 15,000 fish in each of the 100 sq. meter ponds, while other farmers would need 10,000 sq. meters to raise the same amount. He also does his own packing and shipping. Most of Chang's harvest is exported to the United States, Hong Kong, and the Philippines, where he is working with a company on developing red tilapia culture in ponds built on land previously planted with sugar cane. Aqua farmers from the Middle East and India have also come to observe his techniques. "I sell the knowledge to foreign compa­nies," he says. "But I'd share it for free with local farmers. Maybe someone can improve my system." But Chang says his offer has received no takers.

In 1990, the average consumption of fish per person in Taiwan (popula­tion: 20 million) was 34 kilograms. Much of the fish brought to the market by both fishermen and aqua farmers are for the domestic market. Out of the 1.5 billion metric tons of fish har­vested in 1990, 26 percent were exported. (Taiwan does import fish, but close to 90 percent of the 530,000 metric tons im­ported in 1990 were nonedible products used to make meal.) The export market remains attractive. Japan, for example, takes much of Taiwan's eel and prawn harvest. (According to a study done by the Taiwan Fisheries Bureau, the average Japanese consumes 70 kilos of fish a year.) While farmers compete for a place in the Japanese market with quality eel, prawn, and grouper, in the domestic market the basis of competition is vol­ume.

But the aqua farmers' predilection for quick profits has led instead to a decline in prices as well as to the abuse of resources in the culturing of cash earners. For example, from 1985 to 1987, during the boom era of grass prawn culture, vast tracts of farmland in Pingtung county on the southern tip of the island were con­verted into ponds. Even disenchanted eel farmers made the transition to grass prawns. Overseas demand as well as the ability of people in Taiwan to afford the luxury crustacean urged aqua farmers to produce more. And much more. In 1985, production amounted to 18,000 metric tons. By 1987, it had jumped to over 80,000 metric tons.

Ideally, a one-hectare pond should accommodate a maximum of 400,000 prawns. But the farmers were often dou­bling or tripling the number. In 1988, a contagious disease broke out. The over­ crowding and the resulting water pollu­tion fueled the disease, and it practically decimated grass prawn culture in 1988, only a year after it had reached its peak. From a high of 80,000 metric tons with a value of US$426 million in 1987, pro­duction dropped to 31,000 metric tons in 1988, valued at US$176 million. In 1990, production fell even lower, to 9,000 met­ric tons valued at US$74 million.

Much of the freshwater supply for freshwater and brackish water ponds comes from ground water. Eel and grass prawn culture use especially huge quan­tities of it. But according to Liao I-chiu (廖一久), director-general of TFRl, and a leading figure in aquaculture research, it is not fair to blame only the fish farmers. "More than 40 percent of the ground wa­ter pumped out is used by industries," he says. "It's not an obvious fact because the factories have walls around them." The midsection of western Taiwan and the south have a heavy concentration of both fish ponds and factories.

According to a January 1990 report from the Aquaculture and Coastal Fisheries Division of the Fisheries Depart­ment, the most serious cases of sinking land are in areas where eels and grass prawns are cultured, such as in the coun­ties located on the western coast and in the south. The Fisheries Department is under the Council of Agriculture, Executive Yuan. It is responsible for devising poli­cies regarding coastal fishing and aquaculture.

The report cites sectors in Pingtung county where some areas have sunk by 2.5 meters. It adds that the county gov­ernments of Changhua, Yunlin, Chiayi, Kaohsiung, and Pingtung have as a result spent a total of US$150 million repairing dikes and roads. And estimates are that by 1997, another US$270 million would have been spent.

Land and ground water salination has also occurred. On the western coast, the overuse of ground water has led to salt water seepage into the water table. It is estimated that half the ground water sup­ ply in the counties of Yunlin and Chiayi contains salt water. And in southern Tai­ wan, particularly in Kaohsiung, Tainan, and Pingtung, salination is caused by ei­ther leakages in brackish water ponds or in the pipelines that pump sea water into the ponds.

But are aqua farmers solely to blame? Hu Sing-hwa (胡興華), director of the Taiwan Fisheries Bureau, thinks not. "Our aqua farmers and research people have done a super job," he says. "But regulations have not been able to catch up with the developments in aquaculture. That is the root of the problems we are having now." The bureau is under the Department of Agriculture and Forestry of the Taiwan Provincial Government, and is responsible for implementing the policies adopted by the Fisheries Department.

Hsu Teng-kee (許登基), chief of the Aquaculture and Fisheries Division, adds: "Actually, there has never been a well­ organized system of regulations govern­ing aquaculture." Hsu points out that it is not compulsory for aqua farmers to reg­ister their ponds. ''There is no punishment for not registering," says Hsu, "so the farmers don't bother with it."

It would not be too far from the truth to say that most government statistics for aquaculture are guesstimates. In the late 1980s, during the peak of aquaculture, vast tracts of agricultural land were ille­gally dug up and turned into ponds. Many rice farmers in Ilan, in northeastern Tai­wan, either sold their lands to grass prawn farmers or converted them into ponds. And according to informal statistics, 70 to 80 percent of all ponds are still not regis­tered. Consequently, monitoring the suc­cesses and problems of aqua farmers is difficult, much less getting a clear picture of the whole industry. What is obvious, however, is that the government now faces severe problems wrought by the uncontrolled use of ground water and the oversupply of what could have been profitable fish. The solution, says Hsu, is simple. "Just reduce the number of inland ponds, and systematize their administra­tion."

Hu of the Taiwan Fisheries Bureau says that the first step would be to get the farmers to register their ponds. As of 1990, there were 130,000 acres of ponds, 74,000 of which were legal. Only 22,000 acres were registered. Hu adds that during the drought this last summer, the number of registered ponds increased threefold to 66,000 acres, because the government would not give aid to unregistered ponds. "They registered because it benefited them," Hu says.

The next step is to convert illegal ponds into sites for either residential or commercial buildings. ''This way, the fish farmers won't feel cheated," Hu says. But, he emphasizes, the local governments must set up special units to enforce the prohibition of illegal ponds. These units will come from the water, power, land, and aquaculture departments of lo­ cal governments, but will be financed by the central government. They will act on reports of illegal ponds from the Fisheries Bureau.

The island's R&D institutions and agencies, such as TFRI, the zoology departments of uni­versities, and the junior col­leges specializing in aquaculture will continue to play an important role. The Fisheries Department assigns the projects to the different institutes, and supplies all funding. For example, National Taiwan University's zoology department is doing research on fish diseases; the TFRI is working on the artificial propagation of new species and cultivating disease-re­sistant fish.

Ongoing research includes devising an aerating and filter system that will re­duce the use of ground water by making good use of waste water. The waste water filtered out of the eel ponds will be used in raising tilapia, and from there, will be fil­tered into the carp ponds. One major benefit is that the cost of the system will be spread among many ponds. A proto­ type is now in operation in lIan. The cen­tral government installed the system, but the farmers are responsible for its main­tenance. Says Hsu of the Aquaculture and Fisheries Division, "Everyone was satis­fied with the results, so now we are building another one for Ilan."

Another solution is to get the farm­ers to switch to higher-value species. The grass prawn, for instance has given way to the kuruma prawn, which has a bigger and longer body, and a sweeter taste. Other high-value species are trout, sweetfish, sea bream, and grouper. In Pingtung, for example, once the center of grass prawn culture, many of the old ponds are now filled with kuruma prawn, grouper, sea bream, or small abalone. The harvests go to the domestic market, Hong Kong, and Japan, and the products maintain about the same price in all three markets.

The Fisheries Department is also encouraging aqua farmers to set up in countries where the waters are naturally suited to the culture of certain species. Taiwan farmers have begun culturing eels in the mainland and Malaysia, and grass prawns in the mainland and Thailand. But according to Hu, how the government will be involved is still being studied. Mean­while the farmers are on their own. He says, "We've heard about farmers who've been successful. But we've also heard about the ones who lost everything over­seas because they were unfamiliar with the laws of the country." The Fisheries Bureau is going to set up a special team to provide information and legal assistance to farmers wishing to open ponds abroad.

The quick spread of ponds and the rapid development of aquaculture technology have resulted in the industry un­dermining its own long-term interests by focusing primarily on immediate profits. It has also depleted resources such as farmland and ground water. But while the concerns of farmers like Chen Guan-ying, who is concerned about the cost of raising eels, and the government, which wants to limit inland ponds, are different, they are not at odds. Says Hu Sing-hwa of the Fisheries Bureau: "The farmers may not care, and they may not be the only group responsible. But the government wants to solve these problems, and we need their help."

In a way, it will come. Says Liao I-chiu, whose research propelled many of the greatest successes of Taiwan aquaculture in the last twenty years: "It is true we have to take responsibility for some of the problems. But the way to solve them is to promote our skills and head for a fu­ture that is modern, international, and centered around higher-value fish."