Griffis - The Unmannerly Tiger - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

May 15th is Endangered Species Day and this entire month is dedicated to Asian Americans. Many of those Asian Americans are adopted from Korea, including my own two daughters! Of course my folklore collection includes a lot of Korean tales. William Elliot Griffis was an early collector of it, as part of his series of the fairy tales of half a dozen countries. His Korean Fairy Tales opens with a tale of a tiger who has difficulty with the concept of Gratitude. As tigers are predators not known for their gratitude, the conclusion is easily seen coming. It also gives me an opportunity to highlight an organization doing important work with Endangered Species.

THE UNMANNERLY TIGER

“Mountain Uncle” was the name given by the villagers to a splendid striped tiger that lived among the highlands of Kang Wen, the long province which from its cliffs overlooks the Sea of Japan. Hunters rarely saw him, and among his fellow-tigers the Mountain Uncle boasted that, though often fired at, he had never been wounded; while as for traps—he knew all about them and laughed at the devices used by man to catch him and to strip him of his coveted skin. In summer he kept among the high hills and lived on fat deer. In winter, when heavy snow, biting winds, and terrible cold kept human beings within doors, old Mountain Uncle would sally forth to the villages. There he would prowl around the stables, the cattle enclosures, or the pig pens, in hopes of clawing and dragging out a young donkey, a fat calf, or a suckling pig. Too often he succeeded, so that he was the terror of the country for leagues around.

One day in autumn, Mountain Uncle was rambling among the lower hills. Though far from any village, he kept a sharp lookout for traps and hunters, but none seemed to be near. He was very hungry and hoped for game.

But on coming round a great rock, Mountain Uncle suddenly saw in his path some feet ahead, as he thought, a big tiger like himself.

He stopped, twitched his tail most ferociously as a challenge, showed fight by growling, and got ready to spring. What was his surprise to see the other tiger doing exactly the same things. Mountain Uncle was sure there would be a terrible struggle, but this was just what he wanted, for he expected to win.

But after a tremendous leap in the air he landed in a pit and all of a heap, bruised and disappointed. There was no tiger to be seen, but instead a heavy lid of logs had closed over his head with a crash and he lay in darkness. Old Mountain Uncle was caught at last. Yes, the hunter had concealed the pit with sticks and leaves, and on the upright timbers, covered with vines and brushwood, had hung a looking-glass. Mountain Uncle had often beheld his own face and body in the water, when he stooped to drink, but this time not seeing any water he was deceived into thinking a real tiger wanted to fight him.

By and by, a Buddhist priest came along, who believed in being kind to all living creatures. Hearing an animal moaning, he opened the trap and lifting the lid saw old Mountain Uncle at the bottom licking his bruised paw.

“Oh, please, Mr. Man, let me get out. I’m hurt badly,” said the tiger.

Thereupon the priest lifted up one of the logs and slid it down, until it rested on the bottom of the pit. Then the tiger climbed up and out. Old Mountain Uncle expressed his thanks volubly, saying to the shaven head:

“I am deeply grateful to you, sir, for helping me out of my trouble. Nevertheless, as I am very hungry, I must eat you up.”

The priest, very much surprised and indignant, protested against such vile ingratitude. To say the least, it was very bad manners and entirely against the law of the mountains, and he appealed to a big tree to decide between them.

The spirit in the tree spoke through the rustling leaves and declared that the man should go free and that the tiger was both ungrateful and unmannerly.

Old Mountain Uncle was not satisfied yet, especially as the priest was unusually fat and would make a very good dinner. However, he allowed the man to appeal once more and this time to a big rock.

“The man is certainly right venerable Mountain Uncle, and you are wholly wrong,” said the spirit in the rock. “Your master, the Mountain Spirit, who rides on the green bull and the piebald horse to punish his enemies, will certainly chastise you if you devour this priest. You will be no fit messenger of the Mountain Lord if you are so ungrateful as to eat the man who saved you from starvation or death in the trap. It is shockingly bad manners even to think of such a thing.”

The tiger felt ashamed, but his eyes still glared with hunger; so, to be sure of saving his own skin, the priest proposed to make the toad a judge. The tiger agreed.

But the toad, with his gold-rimmed eyes, looked very wise, and instead of answering quickly, as the tree and rock did, deliberated a long time. The priest’s heart sank while the tiger moved his jaws as if anticipating his feast. He felt sure that Old Speckled Back would decide in his favor.

“I must go and see the trap before I can make up my mind,” said the toad, who looked as solemn as a magistrate. So all three leaped, hopped, or walked to the trap. The tiger, moving fast, was there first, which was just what the toad, who was a friend of the priest, wanted. Besides, Old Speckled Back was diligently looking for a crack in the rocks near by.

So while the toad and the tiger were studying the matter, the priest ran off and saved himself within the monastery gates. When at last Old Speckled Back decided against Mountain Uncle and in favor of the man, he had no sooner finished his judgment than he hopped into the rock crevice, and, crawling far inside defied the tiger, calling him an unmannerly brute and an ungrateful beast, and daring him to do his worst.

Old Mountain Uncle was so mad with rage and hunger that his craftiness seemed turned into stupidity. He clawed at the rock to get at the toad, but Speckled Back, safe within, only laughed. Unable to do any harm, the tiger flew into a passion of rage. The hotter his temper grew, the more he lost his wit. Poking his nose inside the crack he rubbed it so hard on the rough rock that he soon bled to death.

When the hunter came along he marveled at what he saw, but he was glad to get rich by selling the tiger’s fur, bones, and claws; for in Korea nothing sells so well as a tiger. As for the toad, he told to several generations of his descendants the story of how he outwitted the old Mountain Uncle.

***

The wildlife rescue group, Turpentine Creek, explains "The enduring symbolism of tigers in Korean culture."  It's rather unusual and worth reading. Presently no wild tigers are known in Korea, even though the Korean Peninsula once was home to the Siberian tiger (or Amur tiger) before hunting and habitat loss is believed to have eliminated them in the early 20th century. Perhaps this story would say it is the result of not having gratitude. Looking at their endangered status, I'm grateful that organizations like Turpentine Creek exist.

Read the story of the tiger, Abigail, at Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge

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This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, “Keeping the Public in Public Domain.” The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated. I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20^th century. My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them. I hope you enjoy discovering them.

At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.

See the sidebar for other Public Domain story resources I recommend on the page “Public Domain Story Resources."

 

A Different Mustard Seed Parable

Last week I expressed frustration with finding a story in the wake of the devastating fires in Southern California. I prowled and prowled and finally found internet references to "an old Chinese tale." Went through the old (2016) Story-Lovers.com still housed on The Wayback Machine -- a wonderful resource set up by the late Jackie Baldwin incorporating suggestions of fellow members of the email list, Storytell .  The list continues, maintained as a resource by the National Storytelling Network, but there's still gold to be found at the old Story-Lovers site. (I've had people mention difficulty using it and will gladly help anyone wanting to try it.) Found the story's name is "The Mustard Seed" and was listed as Chinese, so I checked all Chinese books in my large folktale collection, then on to Project Gutenberg, and also the books at the Internet Archive without luck. This time I went back to those internet searches with a bit more information as I learned it was a Buddhist parable. The only problem was the text tended to be antiquated and included parts unrelated to the core of the Mustard Seed story as well as primarily focused on death. Yes, death is a part of the news from the fires which have once again moved into new areas, but it's also the death of so much more ... the other parts of life before the fire that the survivors are experiencing.

Most of us know a different parable about a Mustard Seed as told by Jesus. It's important. It's not my intent to say anything against it, but the people were remembering "an old Chinese tale" about a Mustard Seed telling a different story. They gave summaries, but I wanted more! Then I found a blog article, "A Different Mustard Seed Parable"on http://lazywmarie.com/. She gives the perfect summary, quoting the brief version given by the Dalai Lama in his The Book of Joy.  Like Marie, I like the way it "is a new way to think of grief and how it connects us to each other." We both agree it is about much more than death, even though it certainly is important.

The more I looked at the Lazy Marie blog, the more I felt at home with her and her animals and Oklahoma "hobby farm." To reach her for permission, I discovered her Facebook page and feel so at home that I'm now a follower of her "The (Not Always) Lazy W Blog." 

It's not the frequent "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" type of story usually given here. Instead it takes us to something that should be considered part of the world's wisdom found in religious literature. Here is Marie's article in its entirety.

a different mustard seed parable

September 9, 2018

Friends, here is a Mustard Seed parable for you to soak in. But probably not the one you already know. One of the hundreds of delicious little treasures I want to share with you from The Book of Joy is a new way to think of grief and how it connects us to each other.

This story is a Buddhist fable shared by the Dalai Lama. I’m just going to quote the short paragraph directly from the book:

“A woman lost her child and was inconsolable in her grief, carrying her dead child throughout the land, begging for someone to help heal her child. When she came to the Buddha, she begged him to help her. He told him he could help her if she would collect mustard seeds for the medicine. She eagerly agreed, but then the Buddha explained that the mustard seeds needed to come from a home that had not been touched by death. When the woman visited each house in search of the mustard seeds that might heal her son, she discovered there was no house that had not suffered the loss of a parent, or a spouse, or a child. Seeing that her suffering was not unique, she was able to bury her child in the forest and release her grief.”

It doesn’t have to be death, though that is a loss that will eventually unite all of us and possibly the one we all fear the most. I can easily think of several bright, terrifying moments of grief in my own life that have actually softened the more I looked around and saw that other people had lived through the same, or worse. Usually much worse. I bet you would agree.

Seeing that her suffering was not unique, she was able to release her grief.

There’s a lot of comfort available in a loving community. And if we can open up enough, there’s a lot of healing and learning that can happen too. How do people survive trauma? How do they make sense of tragedy? How do they cope, and how do they thrive despite their circumstances and mistakes?

In friendships where I feel comfortable sharing the darkest chapters of our family’s story, and when I can be steady-nerved enough to listen to other people’s darkest chapters, God always shows up. He always showers this peaceful, soothing veil over all the chaos and fear. He answers by reminding me that we are not alone. We are neither the first nor the last to be terrified, and His Love accomplishes actual miracles. 

Things are hardly ever as bad as they feel when we think we are alone. When we think our suffering is unique.

Relax a little, into some trusted community. Dare to open up to other people’s suffering, if only to realize how not unique your own suffering is. Then let all of that emotion turn into compassion. And let that compassion turn to hope.

Check in again soon for more about community (Ubuntu, in the African tradition) and a couple of delicious mustard seed recipes. I wanted to include all of this together, but it’s just so much.

Happy Sunday friends. Thank you for checking in.

“A person is a person through other persons.”
~Archbishop Desmond Tutu
XOXOXO