Contests Between Equals: Men and Beasts

Man…does not stand completely apart from animals. Both are N!adima's [the supreme deity’s] creatures and are subject to his anger and caprice and, to about the same extent, to the vagaries of the natural environment. Hunting is part of the battle for survival, and the hunted animal is an adversary in the contest of the hunt, not something that exists specially for man to prey upon – George Silberbauer, The Gwi Bushmen, 1972.

“An Assiniboine running a Buffalo. Drawn by an Assiniboine warrior and hunter.” From Indian Tribes of the Upper Missouri (1961) by Edwin Thompson Denig.

It is easy to focus on the aftermath of a hunt—an event concluded with death and consumption; an aggressive act of destruction, dismemberment, and digestion. Despite his visceral actions, the successful hunter is often aided in his pursuit by his respect for the intelligence and abilities of his prey. Anthropologist Lev Sternberg writes of the Gilyak fisher-foragers of Siberia that, "Every animal is in point of fact a real being like a man, nay a Gilyak such as himself, but endowed with reason and strength which often surpasses those of man.” Anthropologist George Silberbauer gives a detailed discussion of perceptions of animal intelligence and behavior among the G/wi foragers of the Kalahari, writing that,

animal behavior is perceived as rational and purposive and directed by motives based on values that are either held by the G/wi themselves or by other peoples known to them or are negations of such values. The motivational and value systems of animals are not isomorphic in all respects with G/wi and other human systems but are empathetically modified to fit the perceived circumstances of the animals themselves. Each species is credited with characteristic behavior, which is governed by its kxodzi (customs), and each has its particular kxwisa (speech, language). Protocooperating (i.e., mutually beneficial) species and even some that are hostile to one another can understand one another's language, and some animals can even understand a certain amount of G/wi. Man, too, can understand a limited amount of the speech of some species, for example, the alarm cries of birds. Baboons, the most versatile of animal polyglots, eavesdrop on G/wi hunters and pass on the plans of the hunters to the intended prey animals. This is not altruism but is caused by the baboons' legendary love of trickery and teasing.

The special capabilities of some animals are believed to have been arrived at by rational thought and then institutionalized as elements of the species' kxodzi (customs) after having been passed on by the discoverers or inventors in that population. (For instance, the ability of the penduline tit, Anthoscopus minutus, to manufacture feltlike nesting material from the awns of grasses.) Such capabilities are compared with those that man has developed in the process of devising means of meeting environmental pressures. Some species possess knowledge that transcends that of man; the bateleur eagle, Terathopius ecaudatus, for instance, knows when a hunter is to be successful and hovers above him, thus acting as an omen of sure success (but not, apparently, as a warning to the prey). Several animals are believed to be able to foretell the extent of wet-season rains and the location of the best falls and to plan their annual behavior cycle accordingly. These animals are seen as having rather critical limits of tolerable error. If they are to reproduce successfully, they must time their activities to gain the greatest benefit from the rains when they do come. They are believed to have a more sensitive perception of how the rains are developing and can thus furnish the discerning observer with more accurate information than his own less finely tuned senses can gather. The duiker, Sylvicapra grimmia, practices sorcery against his animal enemies and even against conspecific rivals, and some steenbok, Raphicerus campestris, are thought to possess a magical means of protecting themselves from a hunter's arrows.

Name taboos associated with animals, particularly those sought as prey, are not uncommon across forager societies. Of the Batek of Malaysia, anthropologist Lye Tuck-Po writes that, “the name of the animal being hunted cannot be uttered from the start to the end of a hunt. Before the kill, uttering the name will alert the prey to its oncoming fate. After the kill, uttering the name might provoke revenge, or show disrespect to the animal,” while among the Tlingit foragers of Alaska, missionary Livingston French Jones writes that,

It is believed that all animals understand human speech. For this reason natives are careful what they say about them not only in their presence, but at any time; for they have some mysterious way of hearing all said about them, and if evil or boastful things are said, the creature maligned is sure to take offence, and in time will surely harm the speaker. A young man who was subject to epileptic fits, while in one of them fell off the deck of a boat and was drowned. It was said that when he was a child he spoke unkindly to some little fishes, and this was his punishment for it. A young man swore at some mountain sheep which he was hunting because they were in a difficult place to reach. In his effort to reach them a snowslide came down and buried him and he perished. The natives believe that he met with this death because he was disrespectful to the sheep.

Rituals and norms of conduct associated with the hunt can attest to the healthy respect and sense of dignity accorded animals by the hunter. Among the Guayaki-Ache hunter-gatherers of the Amazon, anthropologist Pierre Clastres writes,

As for the animals, there are certain rules of courtesy to be observed toward them. When the hunter kills them, he must also salute them; he arrives in the camp, his game hanging over his shoulder, which is nobly spotted with blood, and he puts it down and sings in its honor. In this way, the animal is not simply a neutral piece of food; if it were reduced to that, the other members of its species might get angry and not allow themselves to be shot anymore. Hunting is not simply a matter of killing animals; you owe them something, and this debt is paid when you bring the animals you have killed back to life by talking about them. You thank them for letting themselves be killed, but their common names are never mentioned. So that brevi, tapir, is called morangi, and kande, the little peccary, is called barugi. You have to be sly with the animals, you must pretend to be talking about someone else; by fooling the game this way, you somehow annul man's aggressiveness and wipe out the fatal act. The hunter's chanting seals the secret agreement between men and animals. The kybuchu are also taught this: to live in the forest one must avoid excess and respect the unity of the world in order to make sure it continues to be generous.

This reference to “man’s aggressiveness” and “the secret agreement between men and animals” dovetail with accounts of male secrecy and rituals oriented around hunting found in some forager societies. Anthropologist Lorna Marshall writes that, “!Kung society accords the hunt great importance and, for the !Kung, hunting is entirely a male affair. Women are wholly excluded from hunting and from taking part in the several hunting rituals that the men perform.”

Anthropologist Vladimir Jochelson writes that among the Yukaghir foragers of Siberia,

When the autopsy of a killed animal reveals under the hide a cartilaginous hardening, obviously of a pathological character, the Yukaghir say that that is where the pe'jul [guardian spirit of the animal + good fortune] is located. Usually such growths are found on the neck, shoulder or chest of the reindeer. The Yukaghir dry them and carry them about in small leather bags, as amulets. Naturally enough, views like the above about the animals necessary for life, led to a cult of the animal, that is, to a religious attitude towards. The killed animal is treated like a dear and honored deceased friend. Its face is covered. Girls who have reached maturity, menstruating women and women after child-birth must not go after the meat of the killed animal, for they might offend it by their unclean condition. A girl must not leave the house when her brothers are hunting.

The ethos of masculine competition embodied in the hunt takes its most vivid form in the solitary, ritualized confrontations men sometimes seek out with the most dangerous animals in their environment. Missionary Antonio Colbacchini described the individual jaguar hunt conducted among the Bororo of Brazil, sometimes done by a man after the death of a relative or a friend, or other circumstances, writing that,

They often encounter the adugo, the terrible spotted ounce. The Indian does not retreat before the terrible feline, but immediately shoots a dart at it, trying to hit the heart. Rarely is the first stroke so accurate that it makes the animal fall. Enraged by the pain, it attacks the savage, who immediately holds the bow with both hands and puts it horizontally in front of his eyes. When the beast approaches the hunter, it rears up on its hind legs and, thus upright, tries to hurt him with the front ones and shred him with its teeth. As soon as the feline stands upright, the Indian, with his arms outstretched, pushes forward his bow, on which the ounce leans, giving horrible roars. And there, firm, with muscles tensed, eye to eye, the man and the beast remain a long time, one trying to overcome the other with muscular pressure. These must be unforgettable moments for the whole life, if the savage reaches victory. Finally the animal slackens the pressure and retreats one step to retake the offensive; the man, with prodigious dexterity, places a new arrow in the bow and wounds the ounce a second time. With renewed ferocity it tries to jump over the Indian, who is immediately ready, as before, to stop it from making the jump. And thus the struggle goes on, until, weakened, the bleeding beast falls, and the Indian takes advantage of that to multiply the arrows and kill it. Unfortunate for the hunter if he hesitates. A heavy blow on the forehead or on the shoulders would make him the prey of the jaguar; many Indians die this way. An Indian had a purulent wound on the upper lip, at the base of the nose, and had become hunchbacked in one of those encounters; he came out the loser, but other companions, who killed the beast, approached in time. It had, however, already made a lesion in the vertebral column and on the face of the hunter, leaving him hunchbacked and disfigured. Ukeiwaguuo, too, in the vicinity of the aldeia, was attacked by an ounce. His screams attracted other Indians, who ran to help him. He, however, defended himself courageously.

Anthropologist Dominique Desson writes among foragers in the Kodiak archipelago near Alaska that,

Whaling on Kodiak...was a solitary occupation, a one-to-one confrontation between man and beast. By wearing the closed crown hat in a ritualized context (the hunt proper) the whaler was transformed symbolically into a killer whale (symbol of hunting and killing prowess) and whaling thus became the ritualized warfare between equals.

The practice of hunting for many forager men is not only essential for survival but conveys the highly-esteemed spirit with which they regard many of the animals they pursue. It has always been a fact of human existence, that animals must die so we may live. Across many forager societies, these violent acts of destiny tend to be managed with as much respect and honor as men are capable of.