The Sheep Professor Eats All, Tells All
According to his Dolphin Hotel–owner son, the Sheep Professor had by no means had a happy life.
“Father was born in Sendai in 1905, the eldest son of a land-holding family,” the son explained. “I’ll go by the Western calendar, if that’s all right with you.”
“As you please.”
“They weren’t independently wealthy, but they lived on their own land. An old family previously vested with a fief from the local castle lord. Even yielded a respected agriculturist toward the end of the Edo period.
“The Sheep Professor excelled in scholastics from early on, a child wonder known to everyone in Sendai. And not just schooling. He surpassed everyone at the violin and in middle school even performed a Beethoven sonata for the royal family when they came to the area, for which he was given a gold watch.
“The family tried to push him in the direction of law, but, the Sheep Professor flatly refused. ‘I have no interest in law,’ said the young Sheep Professor.
“‘Then go ahead with your music,’ said his father. ‘There ought to be at least one musician in the family.’
“‘I have no interest in music either,’ replied the Sheep Professor.
“There was a brief pause.
“‘Well then,’ his father spoke up, ‘what path is it you want to take?’
“‘I am interested in agriculture. I want to learn agricultural administration.’
“‘Very well,’ said his father a second later. What else could he say? The Sheep Professor was considerate and earnest, the sort of youth who once he said something would stick by his word. His own father couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“The following year, as per his wishes, the Sheep Professor matriculated at the Agriculture Faculty of Tokyo Imperial University. His child-wonder love of studies showed no sign of abating even there. Everyone, including his professors, was watching him. Scholastically he excelled as always, and he enjoyed tremendous popularity. He was, in a nutshell, one of your chosen few. Untainted by dissipation, reading every spare moment. If he tired of reading, he’d play his violin in the university courtyard, his gold watch ever in the pocket of his school uniform.
“He graduated at the top of his class and entered the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry as one of the elite. His senior thesis was, simply stated, a unified scheme of large-scale agriculturalization for Japan, Korea, and Taiwan, which some decried as slightly too idealistic. It was, nonetheless, the talk of the time.
“After two years in the Ministry, the Sheep Professor went to the Korean peninsula to conduct research in rice cultivation. His report, published as
“In 1934, the Sheep Professor was called back to Tokyo and was introduced to a young army officer. For the big, imminent North China campaign, the Sheep Professor was asked to establish a self-sufficiency program based on sheep. This was to be the Sheep Professor’s first encounter with sheep. The Sheep Professor concentrated on developing a general framework for ovine productivity in Japan, Manchuria, and Mongolia. The following spring, he embarked on a site-observation tour.
“The spring of 1935 passed uneventfully. The events happened in July. Setting out on horseback, unaccompanied, on his observation tour, the Sheep Professor disappeared. Whereabouts unknown.
“Three days, four days passed. Still no Professor. The army search team combed the terrain desperately, but he was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had been attacked by wolves or abducted by tribesmen. Then at dusk a week later, just as everyone had given up hope, one utterly disheveled Sheep Professor wandered back into camp. His face was haggard, with cuts in several places, but his eyes retained their gleam. His horse was gone, his watch was gone. His explanation, which everyone seemed willing to accept, was that he’d lost his way and his horse fell injured.
“Not one month later, a bizarre rumor began to spread through the government offices. Word had gotten out that he enjoyed a ‘special relationship’ with sheep. What this ‘special relationship’ meant, no one knew. Whereupon his superior summoned him to his office and conducted an interrogation to set the record straight. Rumors are not to be tolerated in colonial societies.
“‘Did you in truth experience a special relationship with sheep?’ queried his superior.
“‘I did,’ answered the Sheep Professor.
“The interrogation went something like this:
Q: By this special relationship, do you mean you engaged in sexual relations with sheep?
A: No, that is not the case.
Q: Please explain.
A: It was a mental relationship.
Q: That is not an explanation.
A: It is difficult to find the right words, sir, but perhaps spiritual communion comes close.
Q: You would tell me you had spiritual communion with sheep?
A: That is correct.
Q: Are you telling me that during the week of your disappearance you had spiritual communion with sheep?
A: That is correct.
Q: Do you not think that is sufficient reason for dismissal from your offices?
A: It is my office to study sheep, sir.
Q: Spiritual communion is not a recognized course of study. Henceforth, I would ask that you amend your ways. Consider your graduation with honors from the Agriculture Faculty of Tokyo Imperial University, your brilliant work record upon entering the Ministry. There are great expectations of you as the standard-bearer of agricultural administration for tomorrow’s East Asia.
A: I understand.
Q: Then forget about this spiritual communion nonsense. Sheep are livestock. Simply livestock.
A: It is impossible for me to forget.
Q: You will have to explain the circumstances.
A: The reason, sir, is that there is a sheep inside me.
Q: That is not an explanation.
A: Further explanation is impossible.
“February 1936. The Sheep Professor is ordered home to Japan. After undergoing numerous similar interrogations, he is transferred in the spring to the Ministry Reference Collection. There he catalogues reference materials and organizes bookshelves. In other words, he has been purged from the core elite of the East Asian agricultural administration.
“‘The sheep has now gone from inside me,’ the Sheep Professor told a close friend at the time. ‘But it used to be there inside.’
“1937. Sheep Professor retires from the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry and, availing himself of a Ministry loan under the Japan-Manchuria Sheep Scheme, which used to be in his charge, moves to Hokkaido and becomes a shepherd. 56 head of sheep.
“1939. Sheep Professor marries. 128 head of sheep.
“1942. Eldest son born (present owner-operator of the Dolphin Hotel). 181 head of sheep.
“1946. American Occupation Forces appropriate Sheep Professor’s sheep ranch as a training camp. 62 head of sheep.
“1947. Sheep Professor enters employ of Hokkaido Ovine Association.
“1949. Wife dies of bronchitis.
“1950. Sheep Professor assumes directorship of Hokkaido Ovine Association.
“1960. Eldest son loses fingers at Port of Otaru.
“1967. Hokkaido Ovine Hall closes.
“1968. Dolphin Hotel opens.
“1978. Young real estate agent inquires about sheep photograph.”
