Alone with the Hairy Ainu / or, 3,800 miles on a pack saddle in Yezo and a cruise to the Kurile Islands.

by Arnold Henry Savage Landor

I proceeded north. The Ainu scattered here and there on the coast seemed to be hairier and uglier than any of their inland brethren. Two or three women had already put on their winter fur garments, as the cold weather had begun; and they looked extremely picturesque in them. Most of the huts were uninhabited, and had been abandoned by their owners. The sky was whitish and cold, and here and there along the beach some huge bones of whales had been washed on shore by the tide. Some distance off an outcast horse was attacked by thousands of famished crows. It is not an uncommon occurrence in Yezo. The black scavengers generally attack very young animals, and, flying on the pony's head, peck out its eyes. The pony, frightened, and driven mad by pain, bolts, and in his blind and reckless race either falls down a precipice and is killed outright, or else is driven to the coast by these daring wretches, which continue to peck at him with cruel and ceaseless avidity. There, with its way barred by the waves, tortured to death, and neighing desperately, the helpless beast succumbs, and affords the hungry birds a good meal, while hundreds gathered thick on the body, peck the poor brute to death. Thousands of others sit screaming in long rows round the scene of the fight, attentively watching for the final result, when they too can join in, and experience the joys of sated hunger. Nature can indeed be cruel.

I stopped at a hut. My host was decidedly peculiar. For convenience we shall call him Omangus, which only means a "gone man," or a lunatic. I had heard of him further south, and I was anxious to make his acquaintance. I had not been five minutes in his hut before I perceived that he really was a lunatic. His head was of an abnormally large size; his skull was well developed at the back, with those prominent bumps behind the ears which show great love of eating. His forehead was high, and very slanting; the upper part was wider than near the eyebrows, which were so thick and bushy as nearly to cover the eyes. His nose, with its large nostrils, was stumpy and covered with hair, while his enormous projecting eyes were restless and fierce. His luxuriant moustache and beard matched the thick crop of long black hair which covered his whole body. His legs were short, wiry, with stiff and swollen joints, probably owing to rheumatism. His arms were very long, and his toes were also abnormally long. Altogether he had the appearance of a large orang-outang more than that of a human being. All his movements resembled those of a wild beast, and now and then, when pleased or dissatisfied, he would groan in a way not dissimilar to the growling of a bear. In fact, he was labouring under the belief that he was a wild beast of some sort, and apparently he regarded himself as a "bruin." I never heard him speak or utter words, but whether he was actually dumb or not I was not able to ascertain, as every time I tried to examine his mouth he attempted to bite me. His biting, however, was of a different nature from that of the sweet girl on the Saruma shores, and when he did bite he bit well. One day in a struggle I came off nearly minus two joints of the third finger of my right hand.

I several times attempted to take measurements of his skull and bones, but with no success. Once, as I had got hold of him and was feeling the "bumps" on his skull, he managed to disentangle himself, and grabbed me by the hair, which led to a conflict, and caused me a "très mauvais quart d'heure." We fought desperately, and I was thoroughly "licked"; not, however, before having found out that he had no bump of sensitiveness and none of philoprogenitiveness. He was pleased with his victory, and the hostilities ended. He hopped away cautiously, and I saw him climb on his hands and feet over the cliff near his hut, where he disappeared.

Some hours later I saw the monomaniac stealthily creeping back among the rocks. I was some way from the hut, in a place where he could not see me. He came slowly forward, watching the hut suspiciously, as he evidently thought I was still inside. When he got near he stopped to pick up a large stone, and with it in his right hand he sneaked along towards the hut. He listened, and crept in. I followed immediately after. He was furious when I entered, and tried to escape, but I barred his way. He retreated into a corner, crouched down groaning, and showed signs of impatience. I could see that he was frightened, and I went to him and endeavoured to soothe him; not without success, for he became quieter, and I once more noticed the great power that a stronger will can exercise over a weaker one. As long as I was staring at him he never dared to move, and I could "will" him to do almost anything I wanted by thinking hard that he should do it; but when once I turned my eyes away I had no more control over him.

This is just what happened that day. Thinking that he would keep quiet for some minutes, I got out my palette and brushes in order to take his likeness. I had till then relied on my power of "willing" people, when my host, seizing the opportunity of my turning my head away for one moment, grabbed the stone which he had picked up, and threw it with great force at me. I was hit in the ribs, and was hurt sufficiently to lose my temper. I went for him, and gave him a sound thrashing, which sometimes has more effect than all the "willing" in the world. He became docile after that, and I took him outside and forced him to squat down.

MY HOST, THE MADMAN.

He was restless while I was painting him, and hundreds of half-starved crows, which seemed to be on good terms with my sitter, gathered round him, chatting in their incomprehensible and noisy language. Some of them even flew on to his back and shoulders, and he touched them without their flying away.

I was astounded at the familiarity which existed between the madman and the birds. They seemed to understand each other, and had I only been sufficiently imaginative I might have asserted that I even saw them kissing him. Unfortunately, when the first astonishment was over I understood the reason of the affection on the part of the scavengers, and the whole mystery was unveiled to me. Like all mysteries, the apparently extraordinary friendship between the madman and the black birds turned out to be a plain bit of literal prose, and, I must add, a very disgusting bit. The maniac was covered with vermin, and the affectionate kisses of the crows were not kisses of love or sympathy, but only mouthfuls of parasites, which they found among the thick hair of his body.