Part 3

Bear-hunting takes place in the late winter and early spring. In these hunts the Ainu often show great courage and intrepidity. The bear is a large, brown species, near, if not identical with, the grizzly bear. When one is killed it is ceremoniously treated. Salutations and apologies are made to the body. It is then skinned and the head and skin are laid out and decorated with ribbons, _inao_ shavings, etc. Feasting ensues and the whole occasion is one of joy and gaiety. But this is _not_ the “bear-feast.” When on these bear-hunts, the Ainu are particularly anxious to capture a little bear cub, which is taken home alive, and given over to a woman for raising. There has been much debate over the question whether she suckles it as she would her baby. It has often been affirmed that she does and has often been denied. When Mr. Batchelor wrote _The Ainu of Japan_, he was anxious not to admit the claim. Since then, however, he has actually seen the little animal suckled by women, several times. On one occasion, when he was preaching in a house, the little cub was taken into the service and was passed from one woman to another and suckled, in the most matter-of-fact way. Later on, though no longer suckled, the pet bear is most carefully fed; sometimes the woman will give it a soft morsel with her lips. When the animal is too large to be longer kept in the house and petted, it is put out into the cage, constructed of a cob-work of logs and raised a little above the ground on posts. In feeding it there, a special wooden trough with a handle is used. Formerly the bear was kept two or three years in the village; now one rarely sees a bear more than a year old in the cages. Finally the time for the great ceremonial arrives. Food and drink are prepared in large quantities—millet cakes or dumplings, millet beer, and saké (Japanese rice brandy). Guests from other villages are invited. Everyone is dressed in their finest clothing. The older and more important men wear their crowns. The men have bathed and their foreheads and the back of their necks have been shaved and their hair trimmed; bathing, shaving and hair trimming regularly occur but once a year. Abundance of fresh _inao_ are cut. A preliminary feasting takes place, at which the men seat themselves in a semi-circle to the east of the house, facing the _nusa_, near the food and drink, which are placed before them; the women sit behind the men. Presently a man, chosen for that service, goes to the bear’s cage, where he salaams and makes an address to the captive. Mr. Batchelor prints one such address, as follows: “Oh thou divine one, thou wast sent into the world for us to hunt. Oh, thou precious little divinity, we worship thee; pray hear our prayer. We have nourished thee and brought thee up with a deal of pains and trouble, all because we love thee so. Now, as thou hast grown big, we are about to send thee to thy father and mother. When thou comest to them please speak well of us, and tell them how kind we have been; please come to us again and we will sacrifice thee.” Two young men, one on either side, now noose the bear with lassoes and drag him out among the people. Armed with bows and peculiar arrows, with blunt, wooden points, they shoot at him to tease and irritate him. Such arrows are not used on any other occasion, and the tips are stained black after which ornamental patterns are cut through, to show the white wood beneath; a bit of red flannel is added at the very tip. After being led around for some time, the animal is tied to a stout stake driven into the ground, and the teasing continues. Finally, two young men attack the animal, one seizing it by the ears and head, the other taking it by the hind quarters; a third man rushes up holding a stick by the ends in his hands and forces it between the bear’s teeth; four other men seize the animal by his legs or feet and drag them outward until the bear lies sprawling upon the ground. Two long poles are then placed, one on the ground under the bear’s throat, the other across the nape of his neck. Upon these the people crowd and weigh down to strangle the poor beast. Sometimes a man with a bow and arrow shortens the creature’s sufferings by a well-directed shot. The bear is then skinned and its head is cut off, the skin remaining attached to it. The skin and head are then laid out upon a nice mat near the east window, and decorated with _inao_ shavings, beads, earrings, small mirrors, etc.; a bit of its own flesh is placed under its snout; dried fish, saké or millet beer, millet dumplings, and a cup of its own meat boiled are offered to it. A worshiper addresses it in some such fashion as this: “Oh, cub, we give you these _inao_, cakes, and dried fish; take them to your parents and say, ‘I have been brought up for a long time by an Ainu father and mother and have been kept from all trouble and harm; as I am now grown big, I am come to thee. I have also brought you these _inao_, cakes, and dried fish. Please rejoice.’ If you say this to them, they will be very glad.” Dancing and feasting then ensue. A cup of the animal’s flesh has meantime been boiled; after this has been offered to him, a little is given to every person present, even the children. A general feast upon the meat of the bear follows, until practically nothing is left except his bones. The head with its skin attached is then placed upon the _nusa_ and left there. In time, through decay and weathering, only the bleached skull remains. Sometimes, a _nusa_ will bear great numbers of these skulls. At Shiraoi, we later saw some _nusas_ that had four or five, but we have not seen any of the great trophies, such as are figured in some books.

While the bear-feast is the greatest ceremonial of the year, it is not absolutely different from some others. Birds of various kinds,—especially the great eagle, hawk, and owl,—and other animals,—as the hare or rabbit—are sacrificed or “sent away,” in much the same way, often after having been kept in captivity for a longer or shorter time.

The island of Yezo is unlike the rest of Japan, in geology, in fauna, and in flora. It is a continental island, continuing in its structure and rock formations the neighboring mainland, although it is an active volcanic area and presents some modern eruptive rocks. The island is remarkably compact and presents the least coast line to square mile of surface of any part of the Japanese Empire. It presents the finest forests and the broadest plains of Japan, and its Ishikari is the longest Japanese river. Its coal mines are extensive and there are other sources of mineral wealth. In its fauna and flora the island is remarkably like the Eastern United States—not merely in general aspect, but in identity of species. Yezo, with its immediately neighboring islands, presents an area of 30,273 square miles, about that of South Carolina. Until recently, it has been occupied by the Ainu. As Russian aggression has been more and more feared by Japan, it became plain that Yezo, with its unaggressive population of Ainu, was a weak spot, unprotected and easily attacked, which needed to be strengthened. A policy of colonization was developed. To colonize wisely, demanded study and experiment. A geological survey was made, experimental farms were established, an agricultural college was founded, roads were built, towns were planted, industries were originated. Much of this work of development was placed in the hands of Americans, some of whom did nobly, while others betrayed their trust or failed through incapacity. Immigration was encouraged from the older and more crowded parts of the Empire. Towns, and even cities, have grown up in a few years; everything is new; life is much as that of our pioneer days and frontier settlements. All this is undoubtedly good for Japan as a nation, but it is hard upon the Ainu. In 1874 Yezo numbered 144,069 inhabitants, of whom 16,000 were Ainu; in 1899, the population was 859,534, the Ainu being reported at 17,000. This flood of Japanese immigration is largely homesteaders; each year sees the Ainu more directly in contact with Japanese neighbors and less secure in the little villages which he occupies. Such thoughts as these about the island home of the Ainu suggested themselves to our minds as we trudged over the snow through the forests.

But our walking neared its end. At Neptani we arranged for a sledge and then started on, leaving it to overtake us. Just as we left the village, we overtook a hunting party on its way to the mountains for deer. The men of the party came from two or three different villages; they carried the guns, and led the dogs; the women carried the luggage. The dogs were like coyotes in size and form and some of them were brown-gray in color; there was, however, considerable range in color. They were strangers to one another and quarrelsome, and probably several days had to elapse before they became friendly. Having exchanged greetings with the hunters and photographed the group, we journeyed on. From here the country was more broken, the terrace slope being cut by lateral gorges, opening on the Saru, which was still to our left. Before long, we were overtaken by our sled, the driver of which was a typical young fellow of some twenty-two years, beardless, indeed, but with long hair hanging, from a central parting, down upon his shoulders. Before we reached the next village, we met a man from Okotnai, whither we were bound, who told us that the man, of whom we were in search, had gone hunting. This was a dash to our hopes, for we had counted on securing him for our group. He was no doubt already in the mountains beyond our reach and not likely to return for a fortnight or more. The hunting party which we had photographed was still in sight and their leader had greatly pleased us. Asking whether we cared for him, Mr. Batchelor called him back. He told him that we wished him, with his wife and child, to go with us to the United States; that he would be gone nine months; that he should go. A look of blank helplessness came over his face, but he replied that he would have to go, of course, if _he_ said so. I now found for the first time—because the type is really very uniform, and all men of an age look alike—that he was the younger of the two men whom we had seen in the first home we visited in Upper Piratori—Kutoroge, the nephew of old Penri. This recognition recalled the older man and we suggested to Mr. Batchelor, the wish that he, too, might be secured. “Oh, yes, Kutoroge, the gentleman wants an old man, a graybeard, who knows how to make the arrow poison and to whittle the _inao_. Can you not find him such a man?” “Why, sir, there is my old father, you know! Would he not do? And really, if we must _die_, it is better that we should die together than separated.” “Oh, yes,” we answered, “so there _is_ your father! Well, go back to your village, and tell him and make preparation, so that all may be ready when we come back to-morrow.” He agreed, but would have to go on to the next village to overtake his wife, who had gone on with the luggage, while we were talking. Thus a hunting party was left without its leader!

Passing Penakori, traveling through a fine hill district, for the most part wooded, near Porosaru, we came to a little stream which was open and which we had to cross by a dugout canoe. The ferryman was an old man, with fine hair and beard. He was dressed in native garments, which were old and worn. Though the weather was cold, his breast was uncovered and showed an unusually thick growth of body hair. The old man first poled us over, then brought our luggage and the box body of the sled. The driver, mounting the little horse, forded him across, dragging the runners. After we had reconstructed the sled and loaded in the baggage, we rode on through the forest, over the uneven terrace, until at last we descended to the Saru River. It was open, and projecting fringes of ice reached out from the shore over the water in a way that looked dangerous. However, we crept out on them, expecting them to break and let us into the water, to another canoe, poled this time by a strong, young ferryman. We crossed safely and crept out onto similar projecting ice fringes on the other side. Our driver tried to make a crossing at a ford higher up the river, but failed. Meantime we followed the river bottom for some little distance, over soft and water-soaked snow, that let us sink deeply every two or three steps; finally, however, we mounted to the low terrace where the walking improved and were soon in the village of Osatnai. From there it was but a fifteen-minutes’ walk to Okotnai, last of this group of Saru Ainu towns and the goal of our journey. From Tomakomai, where we left the railroad, we had traveled in the three days some eighteen _ri_, equal to about forty-five miles, distributed as shown in the following table of villages through which we passed:

Tomakomai, Yubutsu, Azuma, 5 _ri_ Mukawa, Sarabuto, [2]Shumunkot, [2]Nina, [2]Lower Piratori, [2]Upper Piratori, 7 _ri_ [2]Neptani, [2]Penakori, [2]Porosaru, [2]Osatnai, Okotnai, 6 _ri_ ———— 18 _ri_ = about 45 miles.

It was just after noon when we arrived, going directly to Tunkamareg’s house. He had really gone hunting, but Charenga, his wife, was at home, and we were made welcome. Two families live in the house, each with two or three children. Tunkamareg and Charenga are both Ainu; the other man is Ainu, but his wife is Japanese and the little mongrel children were not much to my taste. We were cold and tired and hungry. The pot was boiling and we put some chicken that we had brought with us from Piratori in with the millet that the house supplied, and were soon eating our first Ainu meal. It was now snowing hard outside and we hugged the fire all the afternoon, while the villagers brought in all kinds of articles for sale. During the afternoon fresh venison was brought in and our evening stew was rice (secured somewhere, somehow) and deer-meat. It was interesting to watch the children of the two families quarrel over a deer-bone, fresh and bloody, which they took turns in sucking and in picking off shreds of raw meat. This house, though a true Ainu hut, is mission headquarters, and under outside influences a corner of it has been walled off into a sleeping room for Tunkamareg and his wife. This room Charenga surrendered to us for the night. In it was one of Mr. Batchelor’s little stoves, but it smoked badly; the night was cold and the room draughty, yet on the whole we were more comfortable when the fire went out. All night we suffered from the bitter cold.

We were up early and left betimes. The only sled that could be secured was too small to do more than take our baggage, increased as it was by purchases! So we walked. Mr. Batchelor, more accustomed to this exercise and to Japan’s atmosphere and with little on his bones to carry, kept up a lively pace; Manuel did fairly; but the “leader” of the expedition played out completely before he reached Porosaru, by which time the party was strung out in three sections, along a couple of miles or so of road. It was with joy that he finally met an Ainu boy, with a little sled for dragging wood, who bore a written message stating that he was in our employ! At Porosaru the party was reunited and we made a visit of ceremony at the rather large house of an Ainu of consequence. We entered through the south door and were seated upon handsome mattings, which were folded and laid upon boxes at the east end of the fireplace. Here we photographed the interior of the hut, but our negative was bad; it was a pity, for the northeast corner full of treasures was fine. We had better success in photographing a Japanese lacquered tray, upon which, wrapped in _inao_ shavings, were three skulls—those of an otter, a fox, and an albatross.

Our driver, acting under instructions, had hurried on to Neptani, where he had aroused the village, making an especial search for moustache sticks, with designs in high relief. His search had been rewarded and we carried away two—both, unfortunately, lacquered, but well made. One of them bore the figure of a bear in full relief about an inch high, in front of which was a swimming whale; the other bore three mountains. He had other things awaiting inspection, too—fine dresses, necklaces, swords, and scabbards, carved tobacco-boxes, and the like. We took in a rich harvest, but what pleased us most after the two moustache sticks, was a fine fetish bird-skull wrapped in _inao_ shavings. This was the third example of its kind that we had seen. The first was at Piratori, where the wrapped skull belonged to a woman who was “in an interesting condition,” and we thought it unwise to offer to make the purchase; the second was at the house of Porosaru, where the skulls were so carefully guarded and apparently so highly prized, that we did not hint at purchase; here the skull had been lately used and we could see the spot from which bone powder had been scraped for use as a remedy. The house belonged to particular friends of Mr. Batchelor, and after little demur, we carried the skull away in triumph.

Perhaps the moustache lifter is peculiar to the Ainu. At any rate, it is characteristic of them, and upon it they lavish their utmost artistic efforts. It is a thin, flat stick, measuring some eight, ten, or twelve inches in length by about an inch in width; the ends are angular, one being broadly obtuse, almost squared, and the other sharpened to almost a real point. The upper surface is carved with decorative designs, the work in some cases being admirable. The patterns are, mostly, curved-line conventions. Recent specimens are all carved in low relief; some of the older ones bear full round figures. Usually made in plain wood of light color, they were sometimes turned over to Japanese neighbors to be lacquered. These curious sticks serve a double purpose; the sharper end is dipped into saké or millet beer, and then drops are sprinkled from it to divine beings, in drinking, on ceremonial occasions. On such occasions the cups of drink are set out upon the ground before the guests, with moustache sticks laid across them. The art of carving these sticks is now neglected and the finer specimens are all old. The old artist used to leave his mark cut on the under side—some simple device, as a triangle, some crossing lines, etc. These moustache sticks had a great attraction for us and we secured scores of them. Most of my finest specimens bear the same maker’s mark, a simple, unequally impressed, solid triangle, apparently made with a punch. While such moustache lifters figure generally on ceremonial occasions, there is also a special ceremonial type. It is whittled from fresh wood; no decorative designs are carved upon it, but rolls of shavings are whittled up at three places on the upper side.

At the house where we had stopped, lived a paralytic. On our arrival we had dismissed our little wood sled and our old driver had arranged for two good sleds with boxes. When we were ready to start, we found we were not to be alone. Our driver took an Ainu woman and all the luggage into his sled; into the other, we packed a company consisting of the driver, a fine bearded subject, the paralytic, two women, Manuel and myself. We expected Mr. Batchelor also, but when he saw the prospects, he sniffed in derision and stalked off down the road. Our driver was a fine type, but he was stupid and careless. We were going gaily, packed as close as sardines in a box, when in crossing a little brook, we struck some obstacle and were all spilled out onto the snow. Fortunately none of us fell into the brook and no one was hurt. We picked up the paralytic and put him into the sled, repacked ourselves and were off again. We soon overtook Mr. Batchelor, readjusted the two loads, taking him in, and went on. Before long we were again at the Saru River, and crossing on foot, over the ice, were at Upper Piratori at four o’clock.

We found that the old man refused to go with us. He was too old and frail to make so long and difficult a journey. Kutoroge had, however, picked out a man at Lower Piratori, whom he had persuaded to go, taking his wife and little girl. They were submitted to our inspection and proved highly satisfactory. Sangyea has graying hair, a gray beard, and a patriarchal aspect; he wears great hoop earrings and a well embroidered ceremonial garment. Santukno, his wife, is charmingly ugly, with a broad and heavy lower face, prominent jaws, and a fine tattooing on face and arms. She is a kind soul and suffers from a curious nervous trouble, which they call _imu_ and which seems somewhat mysterious. Those who are _imu_ are terribly afraid of snakes, and the sight of one, or even mention of one, throws them into a state of rigidity. Certain words or sounds have a similar effect. When the subjects are in this abnormal condition, they lose their self-control and mumble or grimace and are apt to do the opposite of what they are ordered.

In the evening, after another treat to coffee and tea cakes at Miss Bryant’s, we went to Kutoroge’s house to draw up the necessary documents. The old man and Kutoroge received us in a stately manner. We went into the front room, for the house has two, the _shem_ being, apparently, an old house, and squatted down in two facing lines—Mr. Batchelor, Manuel, and I, facing the clerk, the policeman, Kutoroge, Shutratek, Sangyea, and Santukno. We all went through the formal salutations of hand-rubbing, hand-waving, and beard-stroking. I then paid one month’s full salary in advance. The clerk drew up formal receipts, which were signed, sealed, and witnessed. The necessary data were taken down for securing legal applications for passports to leave the country.

All formalities having been thus observed, we were ready to leave. Money was supplied for securing the necessary equipment for the house at Saint Louis and for bringing all to the railroad and we told them when they must appear at Sapporo. In the morning, our only conveyances were two small-box, single-horse, two-wheeled carts. One of these we loaded full with our baggage. Into the other Manuel and I crowded ourselves, sitting on the board bottom, with our legs stretched stiffly crosswise of the cart. When Mr. Batchelor chose to ride, we all three adopted some sort of a kneeling or crouching position. Progress was slow and uncomfortable. Sometimes we stopped to make photographs, and on one such stop were able to test this statement in Mr. Batchelor’s book: “They cut the fat part of the legs of both males and females at the joint near the pelvis, and then bind the wound up with the leather-like layers of the fungus mycelium found between the bark and the wood of dead oak, elm, or ash trees.” I had been questioning him about this practice, raising a query as to its purpose and its generality. As we were passing through a village, we met a woman with a baby in her arms, and Mr. Batchelor inquired of her in regard to it. After a little hesitation, she showed me the baby, a little girl perhaps less than a year old. It had been cut only on the left side, back on the inside of the leg, just below the buttocks. The cut had healed, but the scar was quite plain. The woman said they do it with babies that kick and squirm too much. While the practice is probably not general it is certainly common and widespread, occurring in several, if not all, villages.