Korean chickens ―­ guardians from evil spirits and disease

Did you know that Korea’s humble chicken has a noble past? There are legends that chickens played a key role in the birth of some members of the royal families of the Kingdom of Silla (57 B.C. ­ 935 A.D.). One king was said to have been born from a huge egg while another noble was found in a golden chest guarded by a chicken.

In the past, Korea was a land of restless spirits ­ some good but many evil ­ that demanded obedience from the peninsula’s mortals. Of course, darkness was when these spirits reigned supreme and thus, in the early hours until dawn, when a rooster crowed it was viewed as dispelling the darkness and summoning the light of day. Even the most malevolent Korean spirits could not stand up to the might of the rooster’s crow.

One early Western missionary recalled:

“Once I was compelled to travel through the night. It was cold and dark and my coolies pushed on awed and silent. About two o’clock in the morning a distant cock’s crow rang out clear and distinct, when the men all drew a sigh of relief and murmured their gratitude. On inquiry for the reason of this they told me that evil demons cannot travel after cockcrow, so they felt safe then.”

The chicken was also said to be able to locate the spirits of those recently deceased souls who were still trapped in our mortal realm. Drowning victims were laid to rest within earshot of a crowing rooster.

But it wasn’t only from evil spirits that chickens provided protection. Chicken gizzards were powdered and used to help combat chronic dyspepsia.

In January 1896, Dr. Philip Jaisohn (Seo Jae-pil), a Korean-American, treated a Korean soldier who had been shot while helping put down an insurrection in the interior. The soldier had been shot at close range and the wound in his shoulder was described as large as a dinner plate. While he was being transported to Seoul, a Korean physician treated the man’s wound by placing half of a freshly killed chicken in the wound believing that it would help facilitate healing. Dr. Jaisohn was called upon to treat the man because the Western doctors feared that they would be blamed for the man’s demise if he should die while under their care.

Jaisohn treated the wound ­ bathing it in antiseptics and cauterizing the capillaries. A week later the man died but surprisingly not from gangrene or infection but rather from malnutrition and general systematic weakness.

Also in 1896, a four-legged chicken was hatched at Gunsan but it isn’t clear how long it lived. But not all of Korea’s unique chickens were of the barnyard variety.

Allegedly, about a thousand years ago a long-tailed breed of chicken was raised for the royal family. These chickens were said to have been propagated by crossing a pheasant with a wild chicken which resulted in chickens with enormously long tails. These chickens were said to have tail feathers four to six meters long and were for it was been a royal pastime to care for and fondle them.

During the early years of the Japanese occupation, these chickens were stolen from the royal palace in Seoul and some, at least six of them and 100 eggs, were transported to Seattle, Washington, by a Japanese merchant in 1912. What became of them is unknown and, to the best of my knowledge, the long-tailed chicken of Korea’s past exists no more. <The Korea Times/Robert Neff>