A wretched breed of dogs, small, scrubby horses and a few bullocks, with tailless cats, are the only domestic animals of the land.
The Sunrise Kingdom (1879)
In passing on through the country one is struck by the scarcity of birds and animals. Hawks and eagles are, perhaps, the most frequently seen, and crows also are fairly numerous; but with the exception of these, the ‘fowls of the air’ are but poorly represented. Cranes are to be seen, but they are not nearly so common as one would expect, considering the part they play in Japanese art of all kinds. Wild ducks and wild geese are much more abundant, especially in the castle moats, where the shooting of them is prohibited. Domestic animals are scarce, and are but poor specimens when one does see them. The dogs are either of a type closely resembling the Constantinople “pariah,” brethren both in appearance and habits, or else they are those balls of fluffy hair with little pug-noses which are known in England as Japanese dogs. The cats are shorn of their tails, and it is probably owing to this that their bashfulness keeps them almost always out of sight. The Japanese horse is small and shaggy. His mane stands on end, and his tail is rough and long. His legs and body are well built for the uses he is usually put to, but as a riding horse his general appearance could hardly be termed elegant. In some parts of Japan, on the Tokaido, for instance, one may already pass occasionally a thoroughly European excursion van drawn by one or two horses, and filled with country people, who look perfectly at home in what they, a few years ago, regarded as a barbarous monstrosity.
Japan: Its History, Traditions, and Religions (1880)
The fauna is not so abundant as the flora. Foxes, badgers, wild boars, monkeys, bears, wolves, deer, antelopes, squirrels, hares, and rabbits, are more or less prevalent. Horses and oxen are used as beasts of burden. As with us, the farm-yards are enlivened with barn-door fowls. The dogs are mostly of the one fox-like breed, and are poor-spirited animals, making a great noise at the approach of a stranger, but taking care all the time to increase their distance from him. There are domestic cats very similar to our own. In Honshiu there have been found thirteen species of snakes, but only one of these, the mamushi or trigonocephalus Blomhoffii, is deadly. It has been usual for writers on Japan to speak of the country as containing few birds, and these few not remarkable for either beauty or song. To a certain extent this is true of the immediate neighbourhood of the foreign settlements, but it is quite a mistake to suppose that the wilder parts of the country are deficient in birds. Messrs Blakiston and Pryer enumerate no fewer than 325 species, of which 180 also occur in China, and about 100 in Great Britain. In a hurried visit to Fuji-san, one of these gentlemen obtained forty-four species, besides observing a number of others. Among these were three species of thrushes and two of flycatchers, all good songsters; and he could not but remark how delightful was the chorus of birds in the early morning. In the higher altitudes, especially in the mountain ranges around Hida, I have myself often been charmed with the notes of the lark, the cuckoo, and the uguisu, or Japanese nightingale. Wildfowl are very plentiful, and at certain seasons may be seen in thousands on the castle-moats in the very heart of the city of Tôkiyô. There are myriads of crows, and hawks are also numerous. Among the specially characteristic birds are two species of pheasants peculiar to the country, the brilliant mandarin duck, the falcated teal, and the Japanese ibis. Insects are extremely abundant, at times painfully so. On the plains in summer the air is constantly filled with the ear-piercing trill of the cicada, which there supplies the too frequent lack of bird-singing.
The Land of the Morning (1882)
Occasionally we heard the melodious notes of the uguisu, a wood-bird much celebrated in the poetry of the country. It has a note like one of the best “phrases” of the nightingale, if the musical world will allow the expression; but its range is limited. It is, however, a pretty though a brief bit of nightingale melody, and is sufficient of itself (although it is not by any means alone) to make answer to those who say that bird-song has been omitted altogether from the delights of Japan.
Japan: Its History, Traditions, and Religions (1880)
Here, as at Nagasaki, the poorer classes are but lightly clad, the men having little on besides a loin-cloth, and the women being generally uncovered above the waist. They manifested but little curiosity at us as we strolled about the streets, but I was amused to observe a crowd collected round a dog belonging to one of our party, of the Shantung terrier breed, and which, though a purely Chinese dog, is scarcely to be distinguished from a Skye terrier. This long-haired specimen of the canine race created immense excitement and interest, both among Japanese dogs and men, as he trotted complacently along the streets of Simoda.
Narrative of the Earl of Elgin’s Mission to China and Japan (1859)
The streets of Yedo are infested with dogs—not the wretched mangy curs of Constantinople or the pariahs of India, but sleek, well-fed, audacious animals, who own no masters, but who seem to thrive on the community, and bid it defiance. They trot proudly about, with ears and tail erect, and are most formidable to meet in a by-lane. These animals are held in as high veneration and respect as they were in former times in Egypt; the most ancient traditions attach to them, and it is a capital crime to put one to death. There are even guardians appointed for their protection, and hospitals to which they are carried in case of illness. Certainly a long experience has taught them to profit by the immunity from persecution which they enjoy. It is only due to them to say that, as a race, they are the handsomest street-dogs I ever saw.
Narrative of the Earl of Elgin’s Mission to China and Japan (1859)
Old Dutch writers inform us that these street dogs belong to no particular individual, but that they are denizens of particular streets—public property, as it were—and that they are regarded with a kind of superstitious feeling by the natives. They are “the only idlers in the country.” I think these statements may be received as doubtful, or only partially true. Although some of these dogs may have neither home nor master, yet by far the greater portion have both; and if the inhabitants look upon them as sacred animals, and have any superstitious feelings regarding them, they certainly show these feelings of reverence in a peculiarly irreverent manner. On a warm summer afternoon these animals may be seen lying at full length in the public highway, apparently sound asleep; and it was not unusual for our attendants to kick and whip them out of our road in a most unceremonious way. On many of them the marks of the sharp swords of the yakoneens were plainly visible; and everything tended to show, that, if the dogs are regarded as sacred by some, the feeling fails to secure them from being cruelly ill-treated by the common people. It was not unusual to meet with wretched specimens in a half-starved condition, and covered with a loathsome disease. The fact that such animals were tolerated in the public streets almost leads one to believe that they must be regarded with superstitious feelings.
The lapdogs of the country are highly prized both by natives and by foreigners. They are small—some of them not more than nine or ten inches in length. They are remarkable for snub noses and sunken eyes, and are certainly more curious than beautiful. They are carefully bred; they command high prices even amongst the Japanese; and are dwarfed, it is said, by the use of saki—a spirit to which their owners are particularly partial.
Yedo and Peking (1863)
It is a curious fact, that the cows of Japan will not produce milk except for their calves. The Japanese creed forbids its use, but I was assured by several Europeans, who tried to form a dairy, that they found it impossible to obtain milk from the animal under any circumstances.
Japan, the Amoor, and the Pacific (1861)
We used to be amused by the repeated pattering of little feet overhead, occasioned, as it afterwards appeared, by rats, which abound here in such numbers that scarcely a house is free from them. To hunt down these nuisances, weasels regularly establish themselves on every roof.
A Lady’s Visit to Manilla and Japan (1863)
One remarkable feature around Yokahama is the immense flocks of cranes, both grey and quite white. They are unmolested by the Japanese, and very tame. The same feeling of reverence is shown towards these birds, as is shown by the Dutch and North Germans to the stork which builds upon their housetops. It is said that one of these white cranes with a black head, hunted by the Tykoon, is a customary new year’s present from him to his spiritual potentate at Miako.
Japan, the Amoor, and the Pacific (1861)
What irritating crows! Their numbers and their impudence! All day long they are infesting the roofs and grounds, and filling the air with their supercilious croaks. One comes close to the window, gives a sidelong glance, and then flies away crying ‘Haw! haw!’ in the most insulting tone imaginable, finally settling on the roof-ridge opposite and shaking its sides in mock laughter, as with an insolent stare it continues its provoking ‘Haw! haw!’ Another must have alighted above my own chimney, for there reverberates with sepulchral echo down the vent a croak which, if it has any meaning at all, denotes ‘Get out of that!’ And if I go out for a walk, they fly round my head jeering and strut in front of me jeering, making, as clearly as Mark Twain’s blue jay, insulting personal remarks like, ‘What a hat!’ ‘Put him out!’ It is quite evident that these crows are violent anti-foreigners. And, unlike the men among whom they have been brought up, they have no manners to keep their resentment in check. It must be confessed, however, that they have some reason for their conservatism. The teachings of Buddhism have no doubt been at the bottom of the immemorial liberty which they have enjoyed. But really their impudence is beyond all bounds. No wonder that one of my American friends got desperate, and, loading a pistol, shot one of the persecutors dead. But what was the result? For the rest of the day that man’s house was dinned with the wails and maledictions of the deceased crow’s relatives and friends. They came from far and near, hundreds of them, and stamped up and down in front of the house, and lamented over the corpse, and held indignation meetings on the roof and surrounding trees. Conduct like this, however, must ere long lead to a crisis. This came one day when the Mikado was holding a review. What can have possessed the bird it is impossible to say—perhaps its resentment against foreigners had driven it mad—but, however inexplicable, the fact remains, that a crow, flying across the parade ground, committed the unspeakable offence of dropping some defilement on the sacred person of the Son of Heaven! The courtiers stood aghast. It is hardly necessary to add that, that very day there went forth an imperial edict for the extermination of the hateful birds. Thus did the first offence of insulting foreigners culminate in the capital offence of insulting the Emperor, and the consequent sentence of death.
The Land of the Morning (1882)
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