"Chandrawasi burong sakti,
Sangat berkurong didalam awan.
Gonda gulana didalam hati,
Sahari tidak memandang tuan. [225]
"Nocturnal birds are generally considered ill-omened all over the
world, and popular superstition among the Malays fosters a prejudice
against one species of owl. If it happens to alight and hoot near
a house, the inhabitants say significantly that there will soon be
'tearing of cloth' (koyah kapan) for a shroud. This does not apply
to the small owl called punggok, which, as soon as the moon rises,
may often be heard to emit a soft plaintive note. The note of the
punggok is admired by the Malays, who suppose it to be sighing for
the moon, and find in it an apt simile for a desponding lover.
"The baberek or birik-birik, another nocturnal bird, is a harbinger
of misfortune. This bird is said to fly in flocks at night; it has
a peculiar note, and a passing flock makes a good deal of noise. If
these birds are heard passing, the Perak peasant brings out a sengkalan
(a wooden platter on which spices are ground), and beats it with a
knife, or other domestic utensil, calling out as he does so: "Nenek,
bawa hati-nia" ("Great-grandfather, bring us their hearts"). This is
an allusion to the belief that the bird baberek flies in the train
of the Spectre Huntsman (hantu pemburu), who roams Malay forests
with several ghostly dogs, and whose appearance is the forerunner
of disease or death. "Bring us their hearts" is a mode of asking
for some of his game, and it is hoped that the request will delude
the hantu pemburu into the belief that the applicants are ra`iyat,
or followers of his, and that he will, therefore, spare the household.
"The baberek, [226] which flies with the wild hunt, bears a striking
resemblance to the white owl, Totosel, the nun who broke her vow,
and now mingles her "tutu" with the "holloa" of the Wild Huntsman of
the Harz. [227]
"The legend of the Spectre Huntsman is thus told by the Perak Malays:--
"In former days, at Katapang, in Sumatra, there lived a man whose
wife, during her pregnancy, was seized with a violent longing for the
meat of the pelandok (mouse-deer). But it was no ordinary pelandok
that she wanted. She insisted that it should be a doe, big with male
offspring, and she bade her husband go and seek in the jungle for what
she wanted. The man took his weapons and dogs and started, but his
quest was fruitless, for he had misunderstood his wife's injunctions,
and what he sought was a buck pelandok, big with male offspring,
an unheard-of prodigy.
"Day and night he hunted, slaying innumerable mouse-deer, which he
threw away on finding that they did not fulfil the conditions required.
"He had sworn a solemn oath on leaving home that he would not return
unsuccessful, so he became a regular denizen of the forest, eating
the flesh and drinking the blood of the animals which he slew, and
pursuing night and day his fruitless search. At length he said to
himself: 'I have hunted the whole earth over without finding what I
want; it is now time to try the firmament.' So he holloa'd on his dogs
through the sky, while he walked below on the earth looking up at them,
and after a long time, the hunt still being unsuccessful, the back of
his head, from constantly gazing upwards, became fixed to his back,
and he was no longer able to look down at the earth. One day a leaf
from the tree called Si Limbak fell on his throat and took root there,
and a straight shoot grew upwards in front of his face. [228] In this
state he still hunts through Malay forests, urging on his dogs as
they hunt through the sky, with his gaze evermore turned upwards. [229]
"His wife, whom he left behind when he started on the fatal chase,
was delivered in due time of two children--a boy and a girl. When
they were old enough to play with other children, it chanced one day
that the boy quarrelled with the child of a neighbour with whom he was
playing. The latter reproached him with his father's fate, of which the
child had hitherto been ignorant, saying: 'Thou art like thy father,
who has become an evil spirit, ranging the forests day and night,
and eating and drinking no man knows how. Get thee to thy father.'
"Then the boy ran crying to his mother and related what had been said
to him. 'Do not cry,' said she, 'it is true, alas! that thy father
has become a spirit of evil.' On this the boy cried all the more,
and begged to be allowed to join his father. His mother yielded at
last to his entreaties, and told him the name of his father and
the names of the dogs. He might be known, she said, by his habit
of gazing fixedly at the sky and by his four weapons--a blow-pipe
(sumpitan), a spear, a kris, and a sword (klewang). 'And,' added she,
'when thou hearest the hunt approaching, call upon him and the dogs
by name, and repeat thy own name and mine, so that he may know thee.'
"The boy entered the forest, and, after he had walked some way, met
an old man who asked him where he was going. 'I go to join my father,'
said the lad. 'If thou findest him,' said the old man, 'ask him where
he has put my chisel which he has borrowed from me.' This the boy
promised to do, and continued his journey. After he had gone a long
way he heard sounds like those made by people engaged in hunting. As
they approached, he repeated the names which his mother had told
him, and immediately found himself face to face with his father. The
hunter demanded of him who he was, and the child repeated all that
his mother had told him, not forgetting the message of the old man
about the chisel. Then the hunter said: 'Truly thou art my son. As
for the chisel, it is true that when I started from home I was in
the middle of shaping some bamboos to make steps for the house. I
put the chisel inside one of the bamboos. Take it and return it to
the owner. Return now and take care of thy mother and sister. As for
him who reproached thee, hereafter we will repay him. I will eat his
heart and drink his blood, so shall he be rewarded.'
"From that time forward the Spectre Huntsman has afflicted mankind,
and many are those whom he has destroyed. Before dismissing his son,
he desired him to warn all his kindred never to use bamboo for making
steps for a house, and never to hang clothes to dry from poles stuck in
between the joists supporting the floor, and thus jutting out at right
angles with a house, 'lest,' said he, 'I should strike against such
poles as I walk along. Further,' he continued, 'when ye hear the note
of the bird birik-birik at night, ye will know that I am walking near.'
"Then the boy returned to his mother and delivered to her and all
their kindred the injunctions of the lost man. One account says that
the woman followed her spectre husband to the forest, where she joins
in the chase with him to this day, and that they have there children
born in the woods. The first boy and girl retained their human form,
according to this account, but some Pawangs say that the whole family
are in the forest with the father. [230]
"Numerous mantra, or charms, against the evil influence of the
Wild Huntsman are in use among the Pawangs, or medicine-men of
Perak. These are repeated, accompanied by appropriate ceremonies,
when the disease from which some sick person is suffering has been
traced to an encounter with the hantu pemburu. [231]
"The following may serve as a specimen:--
"Bi-smi-llahi-r-rahmani-r-rahim.
Es-salamu `aleykum Hei Si Jidi laki Mah Jadah.
Pergi buru ka-rimba Ranchah Mahang.
Katapang nama bukit-nia,
Si Langsat nama anjing-nia,
Si Kumbang nama anjing-nia,
Si Nibong nama anjing-nia,
Si Pintas nama anjing-nia,
Si Aru-Aru nama anjing-nia,
Timiang Balu nama sumpitan-nia,
Lankapuri nama lembing-nia,
Singha-buana nama mata-nia,
Pisau raut panjang ulu
Akan pemblah pinang berbulu.
Ini-lah pisau raut deripada Maharaja Guru,
Akan pemblah prut hantu pemburu.
Aku tahu asal angkau mula menjadi orang Katapang.
Pulang-lah angkau ka rimba Ranchah Mahang.
Jangan angkau meniakat-meniakit pada tuboh badan-ku.
In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful,
Peace be on thee, O Si Jidi, husband of Mah Jadah.
Go thou and hunt in the forest of Ranchah Mahang.
Katapang is the name of thy hill,
Si Langsat is the name of thy dog,
Si Kumbang is the name of thy dog,
Si Nibong is the name of thy dog,
Si Pintas is the name of thy dog,
Si Aru-Aru is the name of thy dog,
Timiang Balu is the name of thy blow-pipe
Lankapuri is the name of thy spear,
Singha-buana is the name of its blade,
The peeling-knife with a long handle
Is to split in twain the fibrous betel-nut.
Here is a knife from Maharaja Guru,
To cleave the bowels of the Hunter-Spirit.
I know the origin from which thou springest,
O man of Katapang.
Get thee back to the forest of Ranchah Mahang.
Afflict not my body with pain or disease.
"In charms intended to guard him who repeats them, or who wears them
written on paper, against the evil influences of the Spectre Huntsman,
the names of the dogs, weapons, etc., constantly vary. The origin of
the dreaded demon is always, however, ascribed to Katapang [232] in
Sumatra. This superstition strikingly resembles the European legends of
the Wild Huntsman, whose shouts the trembling peasants hear above the
storm. It is, no doubt, of Aryan origin, and, coming to the Peninsula
from Sumatra, seems to corroborate existing evidence tending to show
that it is partly through Sumatra that the Peninsula has received Aryan
myths and Indian phraseology. A superstitious prejudice against the
use of bamboo in making a step-ladder for a Malay house and against
drying clothes outside a house on poles stuck into the framework,
exists in full force among the Perak Malays.
"The note of the birik-birik at night, telling as it does of the
approach of the hantu pemburu, is listened to with the utmost dread
and misgiving. The Bataks in Sumatra call this bird by the same
name--birik-birik. It is noticeable that in Batak legends regarding
the creation of the world, the origin of mankind is ascribed to
Putri-Orta-Bulan, the daughter of Batara-Guru, who descended to the
earth with a white owl and a dog." [233]
To the information contained in the foregoing passage I would add
the following observations:--
Charms for neutralising the power of the Spectre Huntsman are by no
means uncommon, and though they almost invariably differ in unimportant
details, such as the names of his dogs and weapons, they still bear
strong and unmistakable family likeness. Still there are some versions
which contain important divergencies (two or three of these versions
will be found in the Appendix), and it will only be after the diligent
collation and compilation of a great many versions that the real germ
or nucleus of the myth as known to the Malays will be clearly apparent.
One of the charms given in the Appendix evidently alludes to a
different version of the story; the lines which contain the allusion
being as follows:--
"I know your origin, O man of penance,
Whose dwelling was upon the hill of Mount Ophir,
[You sprang] from a son of the Prophet Joseph who was wroth with
his mother,
Because she would eat the hearts of the birds of Paradise."
Yet even here, if we except the obvious interpolation of the reference
to the "son of the Prophet Joseph," the task of reconciling the
conflicting versions may be easier than would appear at first
sight. [234]
A still more curious deviation occurs in another version, [235]
where the Spectre Huntsman's poniard and k'ris are declared to be the
insignia of the great Spirit-King Rama. The passage is as follows:--
"With a blind crow as his guide,
The giant demon, Si Adunada,
Carries (his weapons) slung over his shoulder with back bent
double.
Salampuri is the name of his poniard (sekin),
Silambuara the name of his k'ris,
The insignia of the Demon Rama."
That it is his weapons which the Spectre Huntsman's son (Adunada)
carries on his back appears from a passage below, which runs:--
"O Si Adunada, with the sword slung at your back,
Bent double you come from the lightwood swamps,
We did not guess that you were here."
This reference to Rama opens up a long vista of possibilities, but
for the present it will be sufficient to remark that the Spectre
Huntsman himself is almost universally declared by the Malays to be
the King of the Land-folk (Raja orang darat). It is on account of
this kingship that his weapons receive distinguishing titles such as
are given to royal weapons. This, too, is the reason that he is so
much more dreaded by Malays than ordinary spirits of evil; his mere
touch being considered sufficient to kill, by the exercise of that
divine power which all Malay Rajas are held to possess. [236]
To return from the foregoing digression: there are many other curious
legends connected with Birds. Thus, in 1882, Captain Kelham wrote
as follows:--
"From Mr. W. E. Maxwell, H.M. Assistant Resident, of Larut, I hear
that the Malays have a strange legend connected with one of the
large Hornbills; but which species I was not able to find out. It is
as follows:--
"'A Malay, in order to be revenged on his mother-in-law (why, the
legend does not relate), shouldered his axe and made his way to the
poor woman's house, and began to cut through the posts which supported
it. After a few steady chops the whole edifice came tumbling down,
and he greeted its fall with a peal of laughter. To punish him for his
unnatural conduct he was turned into a bird, and the tebang mentuah
(literally, He who chopped down his mother-in-law) may often be heard
in the jungle uttering a series of sharp sounds like the chop of an
axe on timber, followed by Ha! ha! ha!'" [237]
The following account of the bird-lore of the Malay Peninsula was
compiled by me from notes supplied to the Selangor Journal [238]
by the late Sir William Maxwell:--
The Night-jar (Burong cheroh [239]) takes its name from the word
applied to the second stage in the operation of husking rice. Malay
women husk rice by pounding it in a mortar with a wooden pestle. The
husked grain is then commonly winnowed in a sieve, and the unhusked
rice (antah) which remains has to be separated from the husked rice
and pounded over again. The second process, which is called ckeroh,
is that from which the night-jar derives its name, the quick fancy of
the Malay hearing in the note of the bird the slow measured stroke of
a pestle (antan) descending in a mortar (lesong). This is possibly
the foundation of the legend that the Night-jar is a woman who,
while engaged in husking rice by moonlight, was turned into a bird
in consequence of a quarrel with her mother. Another name for the
night-jar is burong chempak.
The Burong sepah putri ("Princess's betel-quid") belongs to the
Honey-birds or Bee-eaters, of which there are several species,
remarkable chiefly for their brilliant metallic plumage. [A quaint
story is told in explanation of its name: once upon a time the Owl
(ponggok) fell in love with the Princess of the Moon (Putri Bulan)
and asked her to marry him. She promised to do so, if he would
allow her first to finish her quid of betel undisturbed; but before
finishing it she threw it down to the earth, where it took the form
of the small bird in question. The Princess then requested the Owl
to make search for it, but as, of course, he was unable to find it,
the proposed match fell through. This is the reason why the Owl,
to quote the Malay proverb, "sighs longingly to the Moon," and is
the type of the plaintive lover. [240]]
The Burong tinggal anak (lit. "Good-bye, children" bird) is a small
bird whose note is to be heard at the season when the young rice is
sprouting (musim padi pechah anak). As soon as her young are hatched
out this bird dies in the nest, repeating the words "Tinggal anak"
("Good-bye, children"), and the maggots which breed in her corpse
afford an unnatural nourishment to her unsuspecting offspring.
Burong diam 'kau Tuah, or "Hold your peace, Tuah," is the name of a
small bird which is said to repeat the words--
"Diam 'kau, Tuah,
K'ris aku ada,"
or,
"Hold thy peace, Tuah,
My k'ris (dagger) is with me."
The story runs that once upon a time there was a man who had a slave
called Tuah, who answered him back, and with whom he accordingly
found fault, using the words given above. In the transport of his
rage he was turned into a bird.
The bird called Kuau in Perak (kuau is the name given in Malacca and
Selangor to the argus pheasant, which in Perak is called kuang) is
about the size of the mynah (gambala kerbau), and is said to have been
metamorphosed from a woman, the reason of whose transformation is not
known. It is said to be unknown on the right bank of the Perak River.
The "'Kap-kap' bird" is the name of a night-bird of evil omen, whose
note heard at night prognosticates death.
The Tearer of the shroud (Burong charik kapan) is also a night-bird,
with a slow, deliberate note which the Malays declare sounds exactly
like the tearing of cloth. [241] This signifies the tearing of
the shroud, and unerringly forebodes death. Yet another night-bird
ominous of approaching dissolution is the Tumbok larong. This bird,
like the two preceding, is probably a variety of owl; the first and
third are only found inland at a distance from the sea.
'Toh katampi ("Old-man-winnow-the-rice-for-the-burial-feast,"
as Sir Frank Swettenham calls him, [242]) is a species of horned
owl, which derives its name from a word meaning to winnow (tampi,
menampi). Malays say that this bird has a habit of treading upon the
extremities of its own wings, and fluttering the upper part while thus
holding them down. This singular habit produces a sound resembling
that of winnowing.
The 'Toh katampi is larger than the Jampuk, another species of owl,
which is popularly supposed to enter the fowl-house and there live
on the intestines of fowls, which it extracts during life by means
of a certain charm (`elmu pelali, a charm similar to those used by
the Malays for filing teeth, etc.) which it uses in order to perform
the operation painlessly.
The "Luck-bird" (Burong untong) is a very small white bird about
the size of a canary. It builds a very small white nest, which if
found and placed in a rice-bin possesses the valuable property of
securing a good harvest to its owner. As, however, the nest is built
on branches in places difficult of access it is but rarely found,
and Malays will give $10 for a genuine specimen, while sellers are
known to ask as much as $25.
The Ruwak-ruwak is a kind of Heron whose nest if discovered would give
the possessor the power of becoming invisible (alimun). But as neither
nest nor eggs can usually be found it is held to be childless. Yet,
however, if it is possible to approach sufficiently near, when the bird
is heard calling in the swamps, it may be seen dipping a twig or else
its bent leg into the water, and accompanying its action with its call,
as if it were bathing a child on its knee; hence the Malay who hears
its note says mockingly, "the Ruwak-ruwak is bathing its young one."
Tukang is the name given in Kedah to a kind of Hornbill, which is
believed to be the same as the langlin of Perak. The horn is of
a yellow tinge, and is made into buttons, which, the Malays say,
turn to a livid colour whenever the wearer is about to fall sick,
and black when he is threatened by the approach of poison. [243]
The Merbu (? merbok) is a variety of Dove which brings good luck to
its owner. Instances have been known where all the houses in a village
have been burnt except that which contained a merbu; indeed, treatises
have been written on the subject of keeping them. When the merbu dies
its body merely shrivels up instead of breeding worms, which, it is
added, would be worth keeping as curiosities should any appear. [244]
The bird called Pedrudang is a diver which has the power of remaining
under water for a very long time. It is only to be found where the fish
called kelesah exist in large quantities. The eggs of the kelesah are
of great size, and the Malays say, therefore, that it cohabits with
the pedrudang. These eggs are considered a delicacy by the Malays,
who make them into a sort of custard pudding (s'ri-kaya).
To the Ground-pigeon (Tekukur) belongs the following story:--"Once
upon a time there was a maiden who lived in the forest with her parents
and little sister. When she grew up she was troubled by an anxiety to
accompany her father in his expeditions to the forest, where he was
engaged in clearing the ground for a rice-plantation. Her parents,
however, persuaded her to stay at home; first until the trees were
felled, then until the fallen timber had been burnt off, then till the
rice had been planted, and then again till it was cut. When, however,
they attempted to put her off yet once more, until the rice should be
trodden out, she could bear it no longer, and taking off her bracelets
and earrings, which she left behind the door, and placing her little
sister in the swinging-cot, she changed herself into a ground-dove
and flew away to the clearing. [She retained her necklace, however,
and this accounts for the speckled marks on this dove's neck.] On
arriving at the spot where her parents were engaged at work, she
alighted on a dead tree stump (changgong), and called out thrice to her
mother, 'Mother, mother, I have left my earrings and bracelets behind
the door, and have put my little sister in the swing.' Her mother,
amazed at these words, hastened home, and found her daughter gone. She
then returned to the bird, which repeated the same words as before,
this time, however, concluding with the coo of a dove. In vain the
distressed parents endeavoured to recapture her, by cutting down the
tree on which she had perched; before they had done so she flew to
another, and after following her from tree to tree for several miles
they were obliged to desist, and she was never recaptured." [245]
The following notes on birds are taken from a reprint [246] of
"Museum Notes" by Mr. L. Wray, jun., the official curator of the
Perak Museum. Mr. Wray says:--
"The Weaver-bird, which makes the long hanging bottle-shaped nests
occasionally seen hanging from the branches of a low tree, is said
to use a golden needle in the work; and it is affirmed that if the
nest is carefully picked to pieces, without breaking any part of it,
the needle will be found; but if it is pulled ruthlessly apart, or
if even a single piece of the grass of which it is made is broken in
unravelling it, the golden needle will disappear. The makers of these
curious and beautiful nests are said to always choose trees that are
infested with red ants or wasps, or which grow in impassable swamps."
The Weaver-bird (Ploceus Baya, Blyth) is called (in Selangor) Burong
Tempua or Chiak Raya. It is said to use only the long jungle grass
called lalang for making its nest, which latter is called buah rabun,
and is used by the Malays for polishing sheaths and scabbards. When an
infant keeps crying, one of the parents takes the weaver-bird's nest,
reduces it to ashes, and fumigates the child by thrice moving it round
in a circle over the smoke. Whilst doing so, the parent either stands
up with the right toe resting upon the toe of the left foot, or else
squats upon the left heel, bending the right knee, and saying, 'As the
weaver-bird's young in its nest, so rest and weep not' (Bagimana anak
tempua dalam sarang-nya, bagitu-lah 'kau diam jangan menangis). To
the above I may add that besides the ordinary bottle-shaped nest,
the weaver-birds also occasionally make a hood-shaped, or rather a
helmet-shaped nest, which is alleged by the Malays to be the male
bird's 'swing' (buayan). This 'swing' resembles the upper half of an
ordinary bottle-shaped nest, with a perch across it, which latter is
also woven of grass. On the walls of the swing, just over each end of
the perch, is a small daub of clay. The Malays allege that the male
bird swings in it while the hen bird is sitting, and that the young
too 'take the air' in it as soon as they are able to fly so far. Into
the two daubs of mud over the perch the male bird (say the Malays)
sticks fire-flies to give itself light at night.
"The King crow [247] is called by the Malays the Slave of the Monkeys
(Burong hamba kra). It is a pretty, active, noisy little bird,
incessantly flying about with its two long racquet-shaped tail feathers
fluttering after it. They say that when it has both of these feathers
it has paid off its debt and is free, but when it is either destitute
of these appendages, or has only one, it is still in bondage.
"The Gray Sea-eagle [248] is called Burong hamba siput 'the Slave of
the Shell-fish,' and its office is to give warning by screaming to
the shell-fish of the changes of the tide, so that they may regulate
their movements, and those species which crawl about on the mud at
low water may know when to take refuge in the trees and escape the
rising tide, or when the tide is falling, that they may know when to
descend to look for food.
"The Burong demam, or 'Fever bird,' is so called from its loud,
tremulous note, and the Malays say that the female bird calls in its
fever-stricken voice to its mate to go and find food, because it has
fever so badly that it cannot go itself. This bird is probably one
of the large green barbets. The note is often heard, and doubtless
the bird has been collected, but it is one thing shooting a bird and
another identifying it as the producer of a certain note.
"Another bird, the White-breasted Water-hen, a frequenter of the
edges of reedy pools and the marshy banks of streams, is reputed to
build a nest on the ground which has the property of rendering any
one invisible who puts it on his head. The prevailing idea among the
Malays is that the proper and legitimate use to put it to is to steal
money and other species of property."
The next few notes on Malay bird-lore were collected by the writer
in Selangor:--
The Toucan or small Hornbill (Enggang) was metamorphosed from a man
who, in conjunction with a companion, broke into the house of an old
man living by himself in the jungle, and slew him for the sake of
his wealth. When life was extinct they threw a sheet over the body,
and proceeded to ransack the house, throwing the loot into a second
sheet close to the corpse. Day was about to dawn, when a false alarm
induced them to make a hurried departure, so that they picked up the
sheet with their loot and made off with it, carrying it slung hastily
upon a pole between them. As they proceeded on their way day commenced
gradually to dawn, and the man behind noticing something unexpected
about the bundle, and divining the cause, called out to his companion
"Orang!" (pr. o rang) "The man!" His companion, misunderstanding
his exclamation, thought he meant that they were pursued by "a man,"
and only went all the faster, until, on hearing his comrade repeat
the cry a second and a third time, he turned round, and there saw the
feet of the man he had murdered protruding from the sheet, a sight
which startled him to such a degree that he turned into a bird upon
the spot, and flew away into a tree, repeating as he went the fatal
cry of "O'Rang! 'Rang!" which had caused the transformation. And to
this day, whenever the Malay hears among the tree-tops the cry of
"'Rang! 'rang!" he knows that he is listening to the cry of the
murderer. [249]
The Argus-pheasant [250] and the Crow [251] in the days of King
Solomon were bosom friends, and could never do enough to show their
mutual friendship. One day, however, the argus-pheasant, who was then
dressed somewhat dowdily, suggested that his friend the crow should
show his skill with the brush by decorating his (the argus-pheasant's)
feathers. To this the crow agreed, on condition, however, that the
arrangement should be mutual. The argus-pheasant agreed to this,
and the crow forthwith set to work, and so surpassed himself that the
argus-pheasant became, as it is now, one of the most beautiful birds in
the world. When the crow's task was done, however, the argus-pheasant
refused to fulfil his own part of the bargain, excusing himself
on the plea that the day of judgment was too near at hand. Hence a
fierce quarrel ensued, at the end of which the argus-pheasant upset
the ink-bottle over the crow, and thus rendered him coal-black. [252]
Hence the crow and the argus-pheasant are enemies to this day.
The bird called "Barau-barau" is said to have once been a bidan
(midwife) whose employers (anak bidan) refused to pay her for her
services, and kept constantly putting her off. Her patience, however,
had its limits, and one day, after experiencing the usual evasion,
she broke out into a torrent of intemperate language, in the midst
of which she was changed into a bird, whose querulous note may be
recognised as the voice of the aged woman as she cries out for the
payment of her just wages.
About the big Kingfisher (Pekaka) an amusing parallel to the fable
of the Fox and the Crow is related. It is said that this kingfisher
once caught a fish, and flew to a low branch just overhanging the
water to devour it. The fish, seeking for a means to save his life,
decided to try the effect of a speech, and accordingly addressed his
captor in the following verses, judiciously designed to appeal at
once to her vanity and compassion:--
"O Kingfisher! Kingfisher!
What a glistening, glittering beak!
Yet while you, Big Sister, are filling your maw,
Little Brother will lose his life."
At this critical juncture the Kingfisher opens her beak to laugh,
and the fish slips back into his native element and escapes!
Fowling Ceremonies
Ideas of sympathetic magic run very strongly through all ceremonies
connected with the taking of wild birds, such for instance as
jungle-fowl or pigeon.
The commonest method of snaring jungle-fowl is to take a line (called
rachik), with a great number of fine nooses attached to it, and set
it so as to form a complete circle, enclosing an open space in the
forest. You must bring a decoy-bird with you, and the instructions
which I collected say that you should on arriving enter the circle,
holding the bird like a fighting cock, and repeat these lines:--
"Ho, Si Lanang, Si Tempawi,
Come and let us play at cock-fighting
On the border-line between the primary and secondary forest-growth.
Your cock, Grandsire, is spurred with steel.
Mine is but spurred with bamboo."
Here deposit the bird upon the ground. The challenge of the decoy-bird
will then attract the jungle-fowl from all directions, and as they
try to enter the circle (in order to reach the decoy), they will
entangle themselves in the nooses.
As often as you succeed, however, in catching one, you must be careful
to cast the "mischief" out of it, using the same form of words as is
used to drive the "mischief" out of the carcase of the deer.
The method of catching wild pigeon is much more elaborate, and brings
the animistic ideas of the Malays into strong relief, the "souls"
of the wild pigeon being repeatedly referred to.
First you build a small sugar-loaf (conical) hut (called bumbun) in
a carefully selected spot in the jungle. This hut may be from four
to five feet high, is strongly built of stakes converging to a point
at the top, and is thickly thatched with leaves and branches. The
reason for making it strong is that there is always an off-chance
that you may receive a visit from a tiger. At the back of the hut
you must leave a small square opening (it can hardly be dignified
with the name of a door), about two feet high and with a flap to it,
through which you can creep into the hut on your hands and knees. [I
may remark, parenthetically, that you will find the hut very damp,
very dark, and very full of mosquitoes, and that if you are wise you
will take with you a small stock of cigarettes.] In front of the hut,
that is to say, on the side away from the door, if you want to proceed
in the orthodox way, you will have to clear a small rectangular space,
and put up round it on three sides (right, left, and front opposite
the hut) a low railing consisting of a single bar about 18 inches
from the ground. This is to rail off what is called "King Solomon's
Palace-yard," and will also be useful from a practical point of view,
as it will serve as a perch for your "decoy." [253]
The instructions proceed as follows:--
Before entering the hut the wizard must go through what is called the
"Neutralising Rice-paste" (tepong tawar) ceremony, first in the centre
of the enclosed space, and then in each corner successively, beating
each of the forked sticks (uprights) at the corners with a bunch
of leaves. He must then take the decoy-tube, and after reciting the
appropriate charm, sound a long-drawn note in each corner successively,
and then insert the mouth-end of it into the hut through a hole in
the thatch, supporting the heavy outer end upon a forked upright
stick. Then entering the hut, he slips the noose at the end of the
decoy-bird's rod on to the decoy-bird's feet, and pushing the bird
out through the front door of the hut, makes it flutter on to one of
the horizontal rods, where it will sit, if well trained, and call its
companions. After a time the decoy-bird's challenge is met by first
one and then many counter challenges, then the wild pigeon approach,
there is a great fluttering of wings, and presently one of the first
arrivals flies down and commences to walk round and round the hut. Then
the wizard awaits his opportunity, and as the pigeon passes in front of
the door he pushes out one of the rods with a noose at the end, slips
the noose over the bird's neck or feet, and drags it into the hut.
The hut must be used, if possible, before the leaves with which it
is thatched have faded, as the wild pigeon are less likely to be
suspicious of the hut when its thatch is green.
In the way just described any number of pigeon can be taken, a bag
of twenty or thirty being a fair average for a day's work under
favourable conditions.
The "call" will occasionally, for some unexplained reason, attract
to the spot wild animals such as deer (especially mouse-deer) and
tigers. Is it not possible that the story of the lute of Orpheus may
have had its origin in some old hunting custom of the kind?
The following are specimens of the charms used by the wizard:--
When you are about to start (to decoy pigeons) say--
"It is not I who am setting out,
It is 'Toh Bujang Sibor [254] who is setting out."
Then sound the decoy-tube (buluh dekut) thrice loudly, and say--
"I pray that they (the pigeons) may come in procession, come
in succession,
To enter into this bundle [255] of ours."
Now set out, and when you reach the conical hut (bumbun) say--
"My hut's name is the Magic Prince,
My decoy's name is Prince Distraction,
Distraught be ye, O Kapor [256] (pigeon),
Distraught be ye, O Puding[3] (pigeon),
Distraught be ye, O Sarap[3] (pigeon),
Distraught (with desire) to enter our bundle."
Or else when you first reach the hut, "take the (leaves of) the branch
of a tree which is as high as your head, the leaves of the branch of
a tree which is as high as your waist, the leaves of the branch of a
tree which is as high as your knee, and the leaves of a tree which
is only as high as your ankle-joint. Make them all into a bunch,
and with them "flick" the outside of the hut, saying these lines--
"Dok Ding [stands for the] 'Do'ding' Pigeon,
Which makes three with the Madukara Pigeon,
The twig breaks, and the twig is pressed down,
And our immemorial customs are restored."
When scattering the rice, say--
"Sift, sift the broken rice-ends,
Sift them over the rush-work rice-bag,
As one disappears another is invited,
Invited and brought down.
If you descend not, the Bear-cat (Binturong) shall devour you,
If you come not, wild beasts shall devour you,
And if you perch on a twig, you shall fall headlong,
If you perch on a bough, you shall be killed by a woodcutter,
If you perch on a leaf, you shall be bitten by the leaf-snake,
If you descend to the ground, you shall be bitten by a venomous
serpent,
If you fly upwards, you shall be swooped upon by kites and eagles,
(That is) if you descend not.
Cluck, cluck! souls of Queen Kapor, of Princess Puding, and
Handmaid Sarap.
Come down and assemble in King Solomon's audience-hall,
And put on King Solomon's breast-ornaments and armlets."
When sprinkling the rice-paste (tepong tawar) on the uprights at each
corner of the railed-off enclosure, say--
"Neutralising rice-paste, genuine rice-paste,
Add plumpness to plumpness,
Let pigeon come down to the weight of thousands of pounds,
And alight upon the Ivory Hall,
Which is carpeted with silver, and whose railings are of amalgam,
Unto the dishes of Her Highness Princess Lebar Nyiru (Broad-sieve).
Come in procession, come (in succession),
The 'assembly-flower' begins to unfold its petals,
Come down in procession, come down as stragglers,
King Solomon's self has come to call you.
Sift, sift (the rice) over the rice-bag,
King Solomon's self bids you haste.
Sift, sift the rice-ends,
Sift them over the rush-work bag.
As one disappears another is invited,
Is invited and escorted down.
Sift, sift the rice-ends,
Sift them over the salt-bag,
As one disappears another is invited,
And escorted inside (the hut)."
When you are sounding the call (melaung), stand in the middle of the
enclosure and say:--
"Cluck, cluck! soul of Princess Puding, of Queen Kapor, and
Queen Sarap,
Enter ye into our Bundle,
And perch upon the Ivory Railing.
Come in procession, come in succession,
The assembly-flower unfolds its petals.
Come down in procession, come down in succession,
King Solomon's self is come to call you.
If you do not come down, the Bear-cat shall eat you,
If you do not appear, wild beasts shall devour you,
If you perch upon a twig, you shall fall headlong
(All over) the seven valleys and seven knolls of rising ground.
If ye go to the hills, ye shall get no food;
If ye go to the forest-pools, ye shall get no drink."
Or else the following:--
"Cut the mengkudu [257] branch,
Cut it (through) and thrust it downwards.
Let those which are near be the first to arrive,
And those which are far off be sent for,
Let those which have eggs, leave their eggs,
And those which have young, desert their young,
Let those which are blind, come led by others,
And those which have broken limbs, come on crutches.
Come and assemble in King Solomon's audience-hall.
Cluck, cluck! souls of Queen Kapor, Princess Puding, Handmaid
Sarap,
Come down and assemble in King Solomon's audience-hall,
And put on King Solomon's necklace (breast-ornaments) and armlets." [258] |
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