Look. Let’s just get this out of the way. I know this is going to seem like some bullshit listicle about animals doing stuff—and yeah, it KIND OF IS, I GUESS, in that it’s literally a listicle of animals doing stuff—but what you have to understand is that I really, really give a shit about animals doing stuff.
Like, I still have my complete set of Zoobooks circa 1987-1991 in an airtight plastic container (in a garage loft covered in inch-thick bat guano, but that is neither here nor there). So do not fucking condescend to me about how a spider is an arachnid and not a insect, or how a koala is not actually a bear. Do not attempt to dazzle me with facts about how orcas kill great white sharks, or how peregrine falcons can dive 200 mph. I read My Side of the Fucking Mountain. And duuuuuuhhh, yes, I am aware that a seal and a sea lion are not the same animal—you’ll just have to excuse me for one second while I look up which is the one with ears (I’M AN ENTHUSIAST, NOT A BIOLOGIST).
When shit goes all Mickey-Mouse, I turn to my animal stories. Obviously I love stories about animals being amazing and adorable and inspiring and fuzzy, but I especially love stories about animals who just fucked up human shit all over town. So in case you’re having an upside-down day, here (in no particular order) are my most favorite stories of animal crime.
1. The Goose Who Douched Fabio’s Nose
The Universe: Yo, goose, don’t you know that Fabio’s chiseled flesh-beak is his meal ticket to bucks-town?
Goose: I DON’T EVEN CARE FLAP FLAP SMASH BTW WHY IS EVERYONE ELSE ON THIS ROLLER-COASTER DRESSED LIKE SWEDISH APHRODITE OH WELL ENJOY FABIO’S NOSE-BLOOD #GOOSEYOLO
2. Kesagake, the Bear Who Ate an Entire Village
When it comes to unbearably horrific bear attacks, honorable mentions obviously go to Old Two-Toes, the grizzly who ate Timothy Treadwell, and the Sloth Bear of Mysore, who bore the mark of Cain (NEVER A GOOD SIGN IN YOUR APEX PREDATOR). But personally, for sheer ambition and scope, I prefer the tale of Kesagake—the brown bear who went out looking for some delicious corn and wound up devouring an entire Japanese village.
Yayo, Miyoke Yasutarō’s wife, was preparing a late repast while carrying her fourth son, Umekichi, on her back. She heard a rumbling noise outside, but before she could investigate the bear broke through a window and entered the house. The cook pot on the hearth was overturned, dousing the flames, and in the ensuing panic the oil lamp was put out as well, plunging the house into darkness. Yayo tried to flee the house, but her second son, Yūjirō, clung to her legs, tripping her as she ran. The bear attacked her and bit the child Umekichi, whom she was carrying.
Odo had remained at the house as the only bodyguard. When he ran for the door, the bear released the mother and child to pursue him. Yayo then escaped with her children. Odo attempted to hide behind furniture, but was clawed in the back. The bear then mauled Kinzō, the third son of the Miyoke family, and Haruyoshi, the fourth son of the Saito family, killing them, and bit Iwao, third son of Saitō family. Next to be targeted was Take, Saitō Ishigorō’s pregnant wife. As the animal advanced she pled for her life and that of her unborn child, but it was in vain. She too was attacked, killed, and partially eaten.
Kesagake was eventually shot and killed by Yamamoto Heikichi, the drunken sniper—but not until he had taken out seven villagers and led hunters on a crazy week-long Rambo chase through the surrounding forest. In the following years, everyone peaced-out of the village and left it to the ghosts.
It is important to note—and this goes for all of the animal stories included in this post—animals are not monsters. Unless they are starving or accustomed to being fed by foolish humans, bears are not out to get you. Most bear attacks are the result of either unbridled hubris or supreme bad luck. As I wrote back in 2009, when I first started paying attention to marauding bears:
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