A long, long time ago when animals could understand human talk, an unfamiliar word led to the birth of a legend.
It started with a wolf crouched in the forest howling with hunger. It was the deepest part of winter and he hadn’t eaten anything for days. He finally decided to sneak down to the human village after dark and see if he could catch a small farm animal or perhaps even a wayward man-child. He knew it was dangerous for one of his kind to go near human areas, but he was very hungry so he took the risk.
As he slunk from house to house he found the villagers had secured every animal. The plump, juicy chickens were tucked away in coops, the lean, gamey rabbits were shut up in hutches, and the fat, sweet piggies were locked inside barns. These farmers were careful not to lose any stray livestock.
The wolf had nearly given up hope and was about to return to the forest when he heard a small child crying. He crept beneath the window of the house thinking he might yet be able to snatch something. But he hunched down quickly and held still when he heard the child’s grandmother begin speaking.
“Hush, little one,” she said. “There are wolves about, and your crying might make one come eat you.”
The wolf’s heart swelled with pride as he heard his kind being described so fearsomely. He waited to hear what effect this threat would have on the young one. But to his surprise the child continued to cry. Was he not afraid of wolves?
“You must be quiet, little one,” the grandmother spoke again. “There are also tigers outside looking for a noisy child to have for their dinner.”
Still the wailing continued. The wolf was impressed. The little man-child wasn’t afraid of tigers either. The wolf hoped to see this youngster who was so fearless, and began to inch up toward the window. He glanced around to be sure no one was watching him, then started to peek in. But just then the grandmother spoke again so he hesitated.
“Stop crying now,” she said more firmly. “Here comes a dried gokkum.”
A gokkum was a kind of persimmon, and it was common to dry them to have little treats during the winter. The grandmother was now offering one of these to the child hoping it might finally end his crying. The wolf, however, didn’t know this word. Then before he could puzzle out what a gokkum might be, he heard the child grow quiet.
This disturbed him, because he thought the old lady was still threatening the child with some kind of wild animal. And if that brave child who didn’t fear wolves or tigers was afraid enough of gokkums to suddenly go silent, then it must be a terrible creature indeed! What’s more, she had said it was coming now, so it must be almost here.
The wolf leaped from his hiding spot beneath the window and ran for the forest. And as he went he howled repeatedly, “the dread gokkum is coming, the dread gokkum is coming!” He made so much noise the front doors of several homes opened and the people inside looked out at him running away.
Before long the wolf made it back to the forest. Feeling a little safer here he slowed to trot so as to catch his breath. Presently a tiger stepped into the path and blocked his way.
“Where are you going in such a hurry, Mr. Wolf?” asked the tiger.
“I was running for my life,” the wolf answered. “Some awful creature is in the human village, and it’s more frightening than even you, Mr. Tiger.”
The tiger scoffed at first. But as the wolf insisted it was so and related his experience, the tiger began to believe him a bit. After further questioning the tiger felt he should go into the village to find out for himself what this alarming beast might be.
The tiger padded around the outskirts of the village seeing nothing like what the wolf described. But as he crept toward the center of the small town he heard two men standing in the darkness talking together. Their conversation was about the wolf running away earlier, howling in terror. So the tiger crouched against the edge of a house where he could remain in the shadows while he listened to their talk.
“Yes, it was strange indeed,” said one of the men. “There isn’t much that could frighten a hungry wolf, unless perhaps it was a tiger.”
The tiger smiled to himself. He enjoyed his reputation as the fiercest of all beasts.
“A tiger?” asked the second man. “Do you think there’s a tiger around?”
“I heard a woodsman say he came across some tracks in the snow and he was pretty sure they were from a large tiger.”
The tiger grimaced. He’d have to take more care not to leave signs. It wouldn’t be good if the villagers became alarmed enough to begin hunting for him.
“But if it was a tiger,” continued the second man, “then what was it that the wolf kept saying? It was something about a ‘dread gargon’, or so it seemed.”
“Nah, it was saying ‘dread gorgon’,” replied the first man.
“It might even have said gokkan. But maybe that’s the thing’s name. So then, what’s a gorgon?”
“Oh, that’s one of those goddesses with snakes for hair who can turn you to stone just by looking at you! If there’s one of those around, it’s no wonder that wolf dashed out of here like it did.”
“A gorgon?! But where did it come from? And why is it here?” the second man asked.
“I don’t know. But they sometimes keep tigers as servants. Maybe those tiger tracks were from the gorgon’s helper. And maybe she’s here to collect more trophies or slaves.”
The tiger shuddered, but not from the cold. He didn’t like the thought of becoming a slave to a monster.
“If that’s the case, then we’d better not stay standing out here!” said the second man.
With that the men hurried back to their homes. As one entered the house beside the tiger, he slammed the door. This caused a large icicle to break from the roof and fall exactly where the tiger was hiding.
Feeling something hard, sharp and cold thrusting through his fur, the tiger jumped with fright. He thought it was a claw of the great gorgon trying to grab him. He let out a roar and took off toward the forest at top speed, shouting as he went. “Dread Gokkan is here!”
The two men who had just finished talking peeked out their front doors in time to see the tiger bolting past. Thinking it was the messenger of the gorgon announcing her arrival, they each slammed and locked their doors, turned off the lights, and cowered under their beds until morning.
The tiger ran all the way to the forest, but didn’t stop there. Seeing the wolf he called out to him. “You were right, Mr. Wolf. There is a terrible monster in the village. And it’s trying to catch us. Run!” The tiger then kept running till daybreak.
The next day as the two men told the other villagers what they’d seen, a grandmother in the crowd laughed at their story. “Do you mean to say that a tiger is scared of a persimmon?” she asked with ridicule in her voice.
“No, no. That’s just the name the monster uses,” protested one of the men. The other nodded his head in agreement.
But as the days went by, no sign of a gorgon was seen. So it was the old lady’s laughter the town remembered more than the men’s warning. Then over time, as the story was told and retold, it grew into the legend that tigers are afraid of persimmons.
But we know better, don’t we?
. . .
(Loosely adapted from a Korean folk tale.)
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