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White Whiskers and the Rabbit

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Scenery of Gangwon Province in the first part of the 20th century / Robert Neff Collection
Scenery of Gangwon Province in the first part of the 20th century / Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

Long ago, when tigers smoked pipes, there was a huge tiger known as White Whiskers who dwelt in the wild and sparsely populated region that is now Gangwon Province. Tigers were not uncommon in the province; in fact, tigers were fairly common throughout the peninsula ― the only exception being Jeju Island and a few small islands. However, White Whiskers was known as the proudest tiger on the peninsula.

A tiger bares its teeth, published in The Korea Times Jan. 1, 1974.  Korea Times file
A tiger bares its teeth, published in The Korea Times Jan. 1, 1974. Korea Times file
According to William Elliot Griffis, whose account this article is based upon:

White Whiskers "had the most fiery eyes, the longest tail, the sharpest claws, and the widest stripes of any animal in the mountains. He could pull down a cow, fight all the dogs in any village, eat up a man, and was not afraid of a hunter, unless the man carried a gun. As for calves and pigs, he considered them mere tidbits. He could claw off the roof or break the bars of stables where cattle were kept, devour one pig on the spot, and then, slinging another on his back, could trot off to his lair miles away, to give his cubs their dinner of fresh pork."

His claim to fame was that a Sanshin (Mountain Spirit) had chosen him ― the tiger ― to act as his personal servant. There were many Sanshin on the Korean Peninsula and they were feared and worshipped by the people who built shrines to honor the divine beings. Whenever a Sanshin desired, it could summon all of the tigers and leopards within its domain and, according to Griffis, would then choose the largest of the big cats to act as his mount as he "rode off into the clouds or to victory over Korea's enemies."

Korea Times file
Korea Times file

One of White Whiskers' daily duties was to visit the various shrines on the mountains and hills in his domain to verify that offerings were made. The terrified population offered sacrifices every day out of fear of offending the Sanshin.

"They piled up stone, rags, bits of metal, or laid food on dishes for the Mountain Spirit who was very exacting and tyrannical. The poor folks thought that if they did not thus heap up their offerings the spirit would be angry and send the tigers at night to prowl around the village, scratch at their doors, and eat up donkeys, cows, calves, pigs, and even men, women and children. Then the hunters would go out with matchlocks to slay the man-eaters, but by this time, in daylight, the tigers were far up into their lairs in the mountain."

As for the tiger hunters, there is an old Chinese saying that claims for half the year Koreans hunt the tigers and the other half of the year tigers hunt Koreans. Griffis reasoned that it was during the warm seasons ― spring and summer ― when Koreans went out with their guns, but in winter, when the snow was deep and the temperatures low, Koreans stayed indoors and hungry tigers descended from the lofty mountain heights and rained terror upon small villages and isolated farmsteads.

White Whiskers was a veteran of many tiger hunts and had managed to avoid all of the Korean villagers' pit traps and, despite the number of times he had been fired upon, dodged all bullets ― never once having been struck. He had wreaked his vengeance for these failed attempts many times over: "He had eaten up pigs, calves, dogs, donkeys and chickens and had twice feasted on men."

Korea Times file
Korea Times file

Of course, with his many successes, the great tiger grew proud and held humans and the small denizens of the wilderness with great contempt. It was his pride that was his undoing but not by the hands of men and their guns; he fell from his place of power due to a small timid creature possessing neither strength nor sting but only its wits: a rabbit.

There was a small rabbit who lived near the village in a small burrow. He "had often heard the squealing of unfortunate pigs and the kicking of braying donkeys, as they made dinners for Old White Whiskers." The rabbit was always very cautious to avoid the great cat but one winter day, while returning home after unsuccessfully foraging for food, he carelessly crossed a frozen river without verifying there were no large predators nearby.

As the rabbit reached solid ground, he was confronted by the tiger who leaped from his hiding spot behind a big rock. The tiger stared at the little rabbit as if he was trying to hypnotize him with his brilliant green eyes. But the little rabbit stood his ground; he had anticipated meeting the ferocious tiger someday and had practiced maintaining his cool composure.

With some degree of contempt, White Whiskers informed his prey that he was hungry and intended on eating the rabbit immediately. Of course, a small rabbit would do little to sate the ravenous hunger of a large tiger, but it would suffice until something larger could be found.

Korea Times file
Korea Times file

The rabbit seized upon this point and, speaking very honorifically (with many references to the tiger as being the monarch of the forest), stressed how thin he was ― having been without nourishment for some time ― and that his value to the tiger was not as food but as the procurer of larger animals.

He claimed that he would go up the mountain and drive the deer and wild pigs right into the hungry tiger's paws. He cautioned the tiger that it was imperative that the great feline did everything the little rabbit said; if he didn't, then the plan would fail.

"At this prospect of a full dinner, the tiger actually grinned with delight. The way he yawned, showing his red, cavernous mouth, huge white teeth, each as big as a spike, and the manner of his rolling out his long curved tongue, full of rough points like thorns, nearly scared [the rabbit] out of his wits. The rabbit had never looked down into a tiger's mouth before, but he did not let on that he was afraid. It was only the tiger's way of showing how happy he was, when his mouth watered, and he licked his chops in anticipation of a mighty feast."

With the rabbit's assurances that his only "ambition [was] to serve the lord of the mountains," the tiger allowed his own hubris to seal his fate when he agreed to the rabbit's plan.

The rabbit directed White Whiskers back onto the ice where he was to lie down and close his eyes and not open them. The clever rabbit informed him that he was going to make a magic circle of dried grass around the majestic predator. The magic circle would compel the wild game to run around it, getting closer and closer until they literally ran into the tiger's paws.

The rabbit cautioned, "If you hear a noise and even some crackling, don't open your eyes till I give you the word."

Korea Times file
Korea Times file

The tiger, "tired of tramping in the forest and prowling around pig-pens all day but getting nothing, was both hungry and tired." Confident that the rabbit was too afraid of him to try anything sneaky, he promptly fell asleep. His loud snarling snores were music to the rabbit's ears.

The rabbit hurriedly began to gather dry grass and twigs and piled them around the sleeping tiger. Higher and higher he piled the brush until the tiger was obscured by the "thick ring of combustibles."

Then ― perhaps while softly chuckling to himself ― the rabbit set the pyre on fire and scampered across the ice to the safety of the underbrush that led to his burrow.

Perhaps it was the fierce crackling sound as the fire consumed the brush, or maybe it was the heat and the smoke, but the tiger soon awoke in confusion to find himself within an inferno. Roaring curses at the tricky little rabbit, the tiger leaped over the flames and scampered across the ice. He had survived, but not without a price: "one paw was scorched so that he limped, and his fur was singed so badly that all his long hair and fine looks were gone."

The rabbit was nowhere to be seen. The tiger slowly made his way back to the sanctuary of the mountains. His fury was replaced with humiliation when the other great cats learned of the event and openly laughed at him. Perhaps even worse, he was demoted from his prized position and relegated to "second place, for the great Mountain Spirit no longer trusted such a stupid servant."

Last year, the year of the black-water tiger, we were supposed to look forward to more stability and a better economy, but the predictions were wrong. Hopefully this year, the year of the black rabbit, the predictions of peace and harmony will become a reality. Bye foolish tiger, hello clever rabbit.


Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.





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