Using Bodies for Bait
–Night of December 12th–
Three days had passed since the first attack. The sunset marked another day of defeat. They had not caught so much as a glimpse of the bear. Ever the cheeriest exterminators had been worn down. The grisly images of the victims were caught in their minds. It was in this state that the exterminators came to a decision, one which would be unthinkable under normal circumstances.
“There’s no game in these woods to lure the bear. It’s got two options: the frontier homes or the dead bodies. He’s starving, so he’ll come either way. We’re going to have to think rationally about this and use the bodies.” The frontier folk were, naturally, used to luring out prey with dead animals for bait. However, a body is a temple. It was widely held at the headquarters that such an affront to the bodies would be the same as impugning the Buddha. But this was an act of great desperation.
The time of the decision approached. Would the families of the deceased give their assent? Would they be laughed out for even suggesting it? Tears in his eyes, Kan discussed the ethics of the plan with the bereaved families and the villagers. But from the beginning, the grieving families had supported the idea. The situation was just that grave. And so the plan was put into motion.
The bodies of the dead—Hasumi Tsuneo, Abe Mayu, Miyoke Kanakura, Saitō Take, Saitō Haruyoshi, and the unborn child—were lined up on the thick mat in the living room of the Miyoke house. Saitō Iwao, having died at the Tsuji house, was not there. In the upper section of the room they would build a scaffolding and put a dozen or so men on watch with rifles. Soon there were seven selected for that duty: the confident Yamamoto Nikichi; the bald matagi hunter from the south; Tani Kihachi; Chiba Kōkichi; Tokui Kenzō; Katō Tetsushi; and Tsuji Jin’emon. Six of them arrived in the dead of night. Three of them had their weapons leveled at the entrance, and three had their guns pointed in the other three directions. It was a plan that covered all the bases. They could react instantly no matter where the bear came from.
In that small room that unmistakable scent of death was everywhere, drawing wild cats. The room was pitch-black; the outside was still as death.
They waited for a long time. Would the giant bear show itself, as expected?
The beast was not stupid enough to suddenly barge into the room. With no sign of their target, the sharpshooters checked the environs around the house two or three times.
When they tried to shoot it outside, the bear would immediately vanish into shadow. The seasoned veterans shook their heads and held their fire.
Before long, the bear, perhaps concerned about what was happening inside, disappeared into the darkness.
It was indeed a particularly clever beast. The sharpshooters spent the whole night in the room, eating their meals mere meters from the stinking bodies. But the bear had vanished.
As if to spite the shooting party, the bear exhausted all its rage on the abandoned and unguarded Ōta house, the third time it had attacked that residence, just past eight in the evening on December 12th.
The brown bear went after whatever it could find: grain sacks, floor mats, bedding, and clothes. Then, to add insult to injury, it defecated inside the house and vanished back into the forest. Some matagi hunters were holed up nearby, but they were too terrified to move. They stood by and let the beast have its day.