My War Against the Monkeys of Japan
The never ending struggle against my furry neighbors
Sunday afternoon. All is still, the dog is snoring in the corner, and some birds are singing outside the window as I type up a story. Some warm cascading light flows in through the window. Today is perfect.
TAHUD! TATHUD! TATHUD!
The thunder of something heavy hitting my roof wakes me from this serenity. Looking out the window I see nothing, at first. Then 2 furry things drop from above onto the top of the backyard fence.
“Damn monkeys” I curse to myself.
They’re right next to the tomatoes I planted last summer. Even though they’re pretty much dead the monkeys eye them greedily. I look over to my dog, a Siberian Husky, he notices nothing and just rolls over in blissful ignorance.
“I thought you were a guard dog.”
He barks at everything, other dogs, deer, cats, sometimes an appliance. But monkeys are apparently okay with him. They must have struck some kind of secret deal together.
I open the glass door and yell at the intruders. They look at me with a “wanna come at me bro” stare before finally darting off into the bamboo forest by my house.
But they are not done yet, oh far from it. I see 1 of them coming back out of the forest towards a mikan tree my elderly neighbor owns. He climbs it and snatches one of the fruits into his paws.
Feeling some kind of responsibility as an able-bodied young guy, I grab a wooden staff I use for hikes—for the sole purpose of defending myself against monkeys and wild boars—and head out to face my foe.
Taking the staff I smack it against the ground, then against the metallic garbage bin. The monkey on the tree runs away and another one runs off my neighbor’s roof and flies into the treeline.
CRACKACRACKACRACK!
My neighbor Ohata-san, a woman 1/4 my size, just threw a handful of firecrackers at the monkey hoard. The lighter still in hand she comes over to me, noting my staff and bare feet with some amusement, and tells me that they should be coming back in force soon since winter is coming.
The farmlands down the hill have been mostly fully harvested, so the monkeys have no easy food to grab anymore. Almost every house on my street has its own private garden full of bell peppers and chilis. Sweet things like oranges and mikan are rare because they get targeted.
Ohata-san explained, “We don’t grow delicious things much anymore. Pumpkins, corn, tomatoes. The monkeys will just keep coming back for them, so we grow things high in spiciness so they won’t take them.”
The Japanese snow monkey
The monkeys in Japan are the Japanese macaque, a species native to the island nation. They are also called snow monkeys since they are the only non-human primates that live in areas as cold as -20 Celsius.
If you visit Nagano in the winter, check out the Jigokudani Monkey Park. You can get right next to them while they relax in the hot springs. Don’t touch them though, that’s just dumb.
They are usually more docile than other primates I’ve met around the world. Traveling around places like Nepal, India, and Thailand, monkeys were a menace. They are bold and don’t give a shit who they mess with. They’ll run up to you and steal your things, maybe even scratch you if you’re not careful.
One man I know in Nepal told me a story of one attacking his daughter. He promptly caught the guy by his tail, swung him like a lasso, and chucked him into oblivion. Take that story with a grain of salt as you need to.
My experience of Japanese monkeys has been completely different. Maybe it’s because they’re not honored at temples like in South Asia, so they aren’t pampered and accustomed to tourists giving them treats or worshippers giving offerings. They’ll steal food from your garden, but they usually will leave you alone personally.
One exception was in July of 2022 when a few monkeys went on a rampage in Yamaguchi prefecture. There were 66 incidents of monkeys breaking into people’s homes to steal food, or even attacking people on the street. The worst day saw 9 people assaulted by the culprits in a single day. The attacks stopped shortly after 2 monkeys were put down, they were probably the leaders of the raids.
This clash with monkeys is rare in Japan. Sure, they’ll steal food from farms all the time. This prompts many residents who live deep in the mountains to kill them on sight. But that’s normally as far as it goes.
Monkeys have traditionally been treated with reverence in Japanese culture. In Buddhism, monkeys are a reincarnation of Buddha. In Shinto they are a mediator between gods and humans. But with recent rural areas experiencing population decline, monkeys have been invading villages more and more, leading to a rise in culling to combat the theft of crops.
The war continues
A brisk winter morning. I’m out with the husky walking around in the snow as it absorbs the sounds all around, creating a calm bubble that seems to separate us from the rest of the world. There is only one sound I hear, a nearby “whooowooowooot.”
Sounds like a baby monkey calling out from the trees to my left. Some branches are falling on the road ahead. As we get closer I look up and see about 20 monkeys hanging out above me and my dog.
And again, for some reason that escapes me, the dog remains silent and just quietly regards them. I walk cautiously beneath the army of furred soldiers, not wanting to intimidate them. A single monkey is easy to scare off, 20 of them is something I’d rather not risk finding out about.
We make it safely past. But my neighbor’s farm didn’t fare so well. As I round the corner, I see a few monkeys raiding the fields of the winter veggies like cabbage. This time I don’t yell after them. I’m far too vulnerable out here, with the whole posse not too far away. My dog and I just sneakily escape the carnage.
The snow monkeys are cute and I feel bad whenever I think that the reason they steal is to survive. They also breathe some adventure into my life. Growing up in Northern California I dealt with bears and raccoons getting into our trash all the time. It feels kinda cool that now I deal with the likes of monkeys and raccoon dogs instead.
But for the sake of my tomatoes and my beautiful sweet potatoes, I will fight them with my array of loud noise-making sticks. Peace is on the table. Let’s hope that they take it.
I have only limited experience with Japanese monkeys, but one moment etched permanent caution. After I teasingly tapped at one through a windshield (he was sitting on the hood of our parked car), he bared a huge row of teeth, and glared with an enraged pink HUMAN FACE at me. He then shook his fist right at my stunned mug through the glass.
The message was crystal: “Tap that glass one more time, punk, and I’ll eat your ugly ass face!”