This episode we are talking about how the new court organized “science” learning and man of the observations—some of which we understand and some of which are much less clear.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 139: Observing the “Natural” World.
Members of the Onmyou-ryou, dressed in the official robes of their office, sat around in their observation tower, measuring the location of the stars. They kept their light to a minimum, just enough so that they could write down their observations, but not so much that it would destroy their vision. As they looked up, suddenly they saw a strange movement: a streak through the sky. They waited, and observed, and then there was another, and another after that. It was as if the stars themselves were falling from the heavens. They watched as it seemed that the constellations themselves were melting and falling apart. Quickly they scribbled down notes. Tomorrow, with the light of day, they would consult various sources to see just what it could mean. For now, their role was simply to observe and record.

Welcome back, everyone. It is the height of holiday season in the US as I record this, and in our narrative we are in the middle of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, who came to power in 672 and who has been shoring up the Ritsuryo state instigated by his late brother, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou. We have talked in recent episodes about how Ohoama put a lot of the state under the control of members of the royal family, or at least those with claims to royal blood, and how he had also begun work on the Chronicles—the very works that we have been using to try and understand the history of this and earlier periods.
It seems clear that Ohoama and his cohorts were doing their best to solidify their control and, in the process, create what they felt was a modern state, leveraging the continental model, but not without their own local flavor. After all, they were also investing in the kami based rituals of state and specifically in Ise shrine, which they claimed as an ancestral shrine for their lineage.
This episode, let’s dig into another thing that was getting reported around this time. And that is… science! Or at least observations of the world and indications of how people were interacting with it.
Before going into the subject, I want to acknowledge that “science”, or “Kagaku” in modern Japanese, may not look like what we think of as “science” today. The word “Kagaku” itself appears to come about in the late Edo period, and became associated with the western idea of “Science” in the Meiji period. Today we think of it as observations, yes, but also testing via the scientific method.
I think it might be more appropriate to categorize a lot of earlier science under a term like “learning” or “study”, and it seems to have encompassed a wide range of topics of study, some of which we would include as “science” and some which we might refer to more as “arts”. There is also a very fine line with religion and philosophy as well.
From a modern perspective, I think one could fairly argue that “science”—particularly the so-called “hard” sciences—refers to something that can be empirically tested via the scientific method. So you can see something, form a hypothesis, create a test, and then that test should produce the same results no matter who conducts it, assuming you account for the variables.
And please don’t @ me about this… I know I am simplifying things. This isn’t a podcast about science unless we are talking about the social sciences of history and archaeology.
In contrast to our modern concept of science, much of what we see in the Asuka era is built around using our reasoning to arrive at the truth of something. In cases where we are dealing with clearly physical phenomena that have observable causes and effects, this can lead to remarkably reliable results. One example of this is calendrical science—it isn’t that hard to observe the passing of days and seasons. Even the rotation of the earth and the movements of stars and even something with as large a period as comets could be observed and tracked, especially if you had centuries of data to comb through. In fact, they often would predict things that it turns out they couldn’t, themselves, see. They could predict that an eclipse would occur, for example, even when that eclipse was only visible somewhere else. And they didn’t have to calculate gravitational pull, mass, or distances between different heavenly bodies for that to occur.
Similarly, in the agricultural sphere: you had so many people who observed the seasons and would figure out new ways of doing things. It doesn’t take an understanding of chlorophyl to know that plants generally do better when exposed to sunlight.
I believe the leap happens when you get to things that go beyond purely observable means. Sickness, for example—how do you explain viruses or germs without equipment like microscopes to see what our eyes alone cannot? And if such “invisible” things could cause so much damage, then why could there not be other “invisible” elements, such as kami and boddhisatvas?
And as humans we are driven to make connections. It is one of the things that has driven our technological innovation and rise, but it is also something that can easily go awry. Like when you are sitting in a dark house, alone, and you hear a noise. Rationally, you might know that houses settle and creak, but that doesn’t necessarily stop your brain from connecting it with thoughts that someone must be in the house making that noise. Or even how we make judgments based on nothing more than how someone talks or what they look like, because our brains have made connections with those things, for good or ill.
A large part of the rationalization that was accomplished in Asian thought had to do with concepts of Yin and Yang, the negative and the positive, the dark and the light. This was thought of as a kind of energy—qi or ki—that was embedded in things. We discussed this somewhat back in episode 127, because yin yang theory, along with the five element theory, known as Wuxing or Gogyou in Japanese, became embedded in the idea of the calendar. Why was summer hot, except that it was connected with an excess of fire energy? And the cold, dark days of winter would be associated with an excess of water, naturally.
I should note that while this is one of the more comprehensive philosophical systems in use, it was not the only means by which various phenomena and effects were rationalized. After all, it had to be imposed on a framework of how the world otherwise worked, and descriptions of the world came from a variety of places. There was, for example, the Classic of Mountains and Seas, or Sanhaijing, which detailed the world as envisioned in the period before the Qin dynasty, although there were occasional updates. The Sanhaijing described regular plants and animals in the same breath as gods and monsters. There were also various buddhist sutras, which brought their own cosmological view of the universe that had to be squared with other visions, including those passed down locally describing the archipelago as the “Reed Plain” and giving particular importance to eight of the islands—though which eight depends on which variant of the creation myth you are referencing.
To categorize the study of the natural—and what we would consider the supernatural—world around them, the Ritsuryou set up specific bureaus. One of these was the Onmyou-ryou, the Bureau of Yin-yang, also known as the Onyo no Tsukasa. This Bureau oversaw divination, astronomy, time, and calendars. At its head was the Onmyou-no-kami. Below them were the various scholars studying the core subjects, as well as technical practitioners to carry out the rites and divination.
On the continent, priority was generally given to astronomical and calendrical studies, and many of the more magical practices or rituals would fade away, likely because there were local Taoist institutions who could take up much of that work. In Japan, however, it seems that the calendrical studies tended to ossify, instead, while onmyoji came to fill a role not just for the state but also among the population for divination and other such practices. Even into the Edo period one could find private onmyoji, and the Bureau itself lasted until the very beginning of the Meiji period.
Another important institution of the Ritsuryo government for learning was the Daigakuryou, the Bureau of Great Learning. Students of Japanese may recognize the term “Daigaku” referring, today, to universities.
The original concept for the Daigaku-ryou, or Daigaku no Tsukasa, was focused on the study of those things that were considered perhaps a bit more practical and necessary to anyone who might want a political career. Since this was founded on concepts of Confucian government, it is little wonder that it was originally designed to focus on Confucian studies, among other things. This fits into the idea of a supposed meritocracy, where one’s education was part of the examination. You may recall from Episode 115 we talked about the National University in Chang’an, which is likely something that the Daigaku Ryou could only ever dream of becoming.
Early arts taught at the Daigaku Ryou included the Confucian classics, mathematics, writing, and Chinese pronunciation. These were all things that you would need to know to become a part of the bureaucracy
The idea of a school may have been born along with the early institution of the government, with mention as early as 671, in the last year of Naka no Oe’s reign, but we don’t have it clearly established in the code until later. Full operations may have been somewhat delayed due to the tumultuous events of Ohoama’s accession to power in 672, but we do see it explicitly mentioned in the year 675. On the first day of the year we are told that Students from the Daigaku Ryou, along with students from the Onmyou-Ryou and from the Gaiyaku Ryou, the Bureau of External Medicine; along with the Woman of S’ravasti, the Woman of Tara, Prince Syeonkwang of Baekje, and Silla labourers offered presents of drugs and various rarities.
We talked about the first two, the Daigaku-ryou and the Onmyou-ryou, but the Gaiyaku Ryou doesn’t seem to have a lot of information out there beyond this mention. Later there would a “Ten’yaku Ryou”, or Bureau of Medicine, established in the code. Since we don’t have any extant codes from this period beyond what was written down in the Nihon Shoki, we don’t know for certain what the Gaiyaku-ryou was , and it is possible that the Gaiyaku-Ryou was a precursor to the Ten’yaku Ryou. “GAI” means “outside” or “external”, leading me to wonder if this referred to external medicine in contrast to internal medicine, or if it meant medicine or drugs from outside teh archipeloago.
I would point out that these students are found with the Woman of S’ravasti, or Shae; the Woman of Tara; a Baekje prince and Silla labourers. In other words, they were all people from outside of the archipelago. This is not entirely surprising as it was from outside that much of the learning was coming into the country.
“Yaku” or “Kusuri”, which can be translated as either “Drugs” or “medicine”, could refer to a number of things. How effective they were is somewhat questionable. Almost certainly some of them had confirmed medicinal efficacy, but others may have been thought to have been effective due to things like their connection to the five elements, or wuxing, theory. For example, something red might be assumed to have a warming effect because of the presumed presence of the fire element. And the power of the placebo effect no doubt made them seem at least partially effective. Consider, for example, how many people will swear by certain remedies for the common cold when all it really does is distract you, or perhaps make you a bit more comfortable, until the symptoms pass on their own.
A more certain science was probably that of Astronomy, which we’ve mentioned a few times. The passage of the stars through the sky was something that could be easily observed. There is a theory that some of the first lines in the Yijing, or book of changes, may actually be a description of the changing of seasons as different aspects of a given constellation rise over the horizon, and the placement of certain stars would help in the adjustment of the lunar calendar, since the moon’s orbit does not match up exactly with the solar year, and year the solar year was quite important to things like agriculture and even sailing to the mainland.
This all makes 675 a seemingly banner year for science, as four days after the presentation of medicine to the throne, the government erected a platform by which to observe the stars. This wouldn’t need to be much—it could have been an earthen mound, or just a tower, from which one could get above the ground, presumably see over any buildings, to the horizon. Granted, Asuka might not be the best place for such observations, with the nearby mountains meaning that the true horizon is often obstructed. Nonetheless, it may have been enough to make calculations.
Astronomy platforms, or Tenmondai, would continue to be used up until at least the Meiji period. Without a telescope, observations were somewhat limited—though they also didn’t have the same level of light pollution that we have today. Remember, many woke just before dawn and went to sleep not too long after the sun went down, which only makes sense when you are living in a place where creating light, while doable, also ran the risk of burning your entire house to the ground.
It is worth noting that the sky for the ancient Japanese was likely quite different than what most of us see when we look up, unless you are fortunate enough to live in a place with very little light pollution. For many of those living today in the cities and suburban landscape, go outside at night and you might see the moon and some of the brightest stars, but for most of the ancient Japanese, they would look up and see the heavenly river, the Amakawa, or Milky Way. They would have looked up at a sky glittering with myriad dots of light, as well as planets and more. It was both familiar and strange—something one saw regularly and yet something that was also extremely inaccessible.
Astronomical observations would have been important for several reasons, as I’ve mentioned. They would have been used to keep the calendar in check, but they would also have likely been used to help calibrate the water clock, which helped to tell time. Of course, going back to the five elements and yin yang theory, it is also believed that the energy, the qi or ki, changed with the seasons and the movements of the stars and planets—planets were not known as such, of course, but their seemingly erratic movements compared to bright lights in the sky meant they were noticed and assigned values within the elemental system.
One of the things that came with the changing seasons, the heavenly movements, and the flow of ki was a concept of “kata-imi”, literally directional taboos. There were times when certain directions might be considered favorable or unfavorable for various actions. This could be something as simple as traveling in a given direction. In the centuries to come this would spawn an entire practice of kata-tagae, or changing direction. Is the north blocked, but you need to travel there, anyway? Well just go northwest to say hello to a friend or visit your local sake brewery, and then travel due east. Ta-da! You avoided going directly north! There were also mantra-like incantations that one might say if they had to travel in an inauspicious direction to counteract the concept of bad influences.
This also influenced various other things, and even today you will often see dates where a year and month might be followed by simply the character for “auspicious day” rather than an actual day of the month.
So observing the heavens was important, and it was also important that they tostudy the works of those on the continent, whose records could help predict various astronomical phenomena. Except that there was one tiny problem: I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Japan and China are in two different locations. Not all astronomical phenomena can be observed from all points of the globe. The Northern Lights, for example, are rarely seen in more southerly latitudes, and while eclipses are not too rare, a total eclipse only impacts certain areas of the earth, along relatively narrow paths.
I mention this because it isn’t always clear if the records we get in the Nihon Shoki are about phenomena they directly observed or if they are taking reports from elsewhere and incorporating them into the narrative. One such event is the comet of 676.
The entry in the Nihon Shoki tells us that in the 7th lunar month of the 5th year of Temmu Tennou, aka 676 CE, a star appeared in the east that was 7 or 8 shaku in length. It disappeared two months later.
We’ve mentioned some of this before, but the sky was divided up into “shaku”, or “feet”, though how exactly it was measured I’m not entirely sure. It appears to be that one foot was roughly 1.5 degrees of the sky, give or take about a quarter of a degree, with 180 degrees from horizon to horizon. So it would have been about 10 to 12 degrees in the sky. Another way to picture it is if you hold out your arm towards the object, and spread your index and little finger, it would probably fit between those two points.
This comet hung around for some time, and a great part about a comet like this is that it was viewable from multiple locations. After all, as the earth turned, different areas were exposed to the comet as it passed through our part of the solar system. Thus we have records of it from not just the Nihon Shoki: We also find it in the Anglo-Saxon chronicles, where it was thought to have foretold the end of Bishop Wilfred’s control of Northumbria. We also see it in Tang, Silla, and Syrian sources.
These sources aren’t always in complete agreement. For one thing, they noted when they first saw it, which might have been impacted by local conditions. And then conversion between lunar and solar calendars can also sometimes get in the way. Roughtly speaking, we have the Nihon Shoki providing dates of somewhere from about August or September of 676, on the Western calendar, to October or November. Tang sources put it from 4 September to 1 November. Silla Chronicles claim that it first appeared in the 7th lunar month, so between August and September. A Syrian Chronicle notes a comet from about 28 August to 26 October in the following year, 677, but this is thought to have been a mistake. European sources generally seem to claim it was seen in August and lasted for three months. All of these sightings put it at roughly the same time.
Working with that and with known comets, we think we actually know which comet this is: The Comet de Cheseaux also known as the Comet Klinkenberg-Cheseaux. And I should mention this is all thanks to a research paper by M. Meyer and G. W. Kronk. In that paper they propose that this is the comet with the designation of C/1743 X1, or the common names I just mentioned. If so, based on its trajectory, this comet would have been visible in 336, 676, 1032, 1402, 1744, and is next predicted to show up in 2097. And no, those aren’t all exactly the same amount of time. It is roughly every 350 years or so, but with the movements of the solar system, the planets, and various gravitational forces that likely slow or speed up its movement, it doesn’t show up on exactly regular intervals. Still, it is pretty incredible to think that we have a record of a comet that was seen the world over at this time, by people looking up from some very different places.
Comets were something interesting for early astronomers. They may have originally been seen as particularly ominous—after all, in the early eras, they were hardly predictable, and it would take years to get enough data to see that they were actually a somewhat regular occurrence. In fact, it is likely that early astronomers were able to figure out eclipse schedules before comets. Still, they seem to have come to the realization that comets were in fact another type of natural and reoccurring phenomenon. That isn’t to say that they didn’t have any oracular meaning, but it did mean they were less of an obvious disturbance of the heavenly order.
We have another comet mentioned in the 10th lunar month of 681, but that one seems to have had less attention focused on it, and we don’t have the same details. Then in the 8th lunar month of 682 we have an entry about a Great Star passing from East to West—which was probably a shooting star, rather than a comet. Comets, for all that they appear to be streaking across the sky thanks to their long tails, are often relatively stable from an earthbound perspective, taking months to appear and then disappear again.
Then, on the 23rd day of the 7th month of 684 we get another comet in the northwest. This one was more than 10 shaku in length—about 15 degrees, total, give or take. Given the date, we can be fairly confident about this one, as well: it was the famous Halley’s comet.
Halley’s comet is fascinating for several reasons. For one, it has a relatively short period of about 72 to 80 years, though mostly closer to 75 to 77 years in between sightings. The last time it visited the earth was in 1986, and it is expected back in 2061. Halley’s comet has been recorded since the 3rd century BCE, and, likely because of its short period, it was the first periodic comet to be recognized as such. There are other periodic comets with short periods, but many of them are not visible with the naked eye.
Halley’s comet is perhaps the most studied comet, given its regular and relatively short periodicity. It is also connected to the famous writer, humorist, and essayist, Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain. He was born only a few days after the comet reached perihelion in 1835 and died a day after it reached the same point again in 1910, and while he may not have visited Japan in his lifetime, it was a period of great change both in his home country of America and in Japan. America, of course, would undergo a Civil War over the issue of slavery in the early 1860s, and shortly after that Japan would have its own civil war in the form of the Meiji Revolution. And while he never visited—and translation could only do so much to capture the art of his prose—Mark Twain’s works were apparently quite influential in Japan in the early 20th century.
Of course, comets were just one of the celestial phenomena to be observed. The astronomers were interested in just about anything happening in the sky. We have accounts of both solar and lunar eclipses, and not necessarily full eclipses either. We even have notice of the movement of some planets, such as in 681, when they noted that the planet mars “entered” the moon.
Obviously the astronomers weren’t recording every raincloud that came through—at least not in the main chronicles—but they did capture a fair number of events. They did record particularly memorable storms. For instances, in the 8th lunar month of 675 there was a storm that is said to have caused sand to fly and which then damaged houses. This sounds like a wind storm without rain—after all, if there was rain, you would expect that the sand would have been wet and tamped down.
It is possible to have hurricane level winds without the rain. While typhoons typically bring rain, especially as they usually build up their strength at sea, it is possible to have the winds alone, as I’ve experienced, myself, in Tokyo. This most likely happens in an isolated area—there is water and rain somewhere, but the typhoon can be large, so parts of it may only get the wind and little or no rain. I wonder if something like that happened in this instance. It is also possible that this record refers to actual sand being brought across from the continent. In some instances, sand can be lifted up from as far away as Mongolia and carried all the way to Japan, though it is pretty rare.
And it wasn’t just wind and sand. We get accounts of hail coming down as large as peaches, torrential rainstorms, and even ash, likely from a volcanic eruption that was otherwise unrecorded. There are also accounts of snow, though typically recorded in times where you wouldn’t expect to see it, such as the third lunar month, which would mean snow in late April or early May.
Mostly these storms are mentioned in terms of how they affected the immediate fortunes of the living, but sometimes storms did even more damage. In 682, for example, a hoar-frost was reported in both Shinano and Kibi in the 7th lunar month. On its own, this probably wouldn’t have been worth mentioning, but the chroniclers add that because of storms the “five grains had not formed”. So storms had diminished the crops and the hoar-frost was apparently the killing blow. The harvest that year would be lean, and it would not be a happy time for many that winter.
And then, just as important as what was happening was what was not. There are several mentions of droughts, particularly towards the end of Spring, early Summer. This is traditionally a drier period, and if it is too dry it could harm the harvest. And so the government was expected to find a way to bring the rain—a tall order, the general resolution to which seems to be prayers and rituals designed to bring rain. In a place like Japan, I suspect that it was usually just a matter of time before the prayers were “successful”, thus reinforcing their presumed efficacy.
Some of the things that they recorded were a bit more mysterious. For example, in the second lunar month of 680 we are told that a sound like drums was heard from the East. There are many things this could theoretically be, from rumbles of thunder to some other phenomenon, though the following year we have a note about thunder in the West, so theoretically they knew the difference between thunder and drums. Later that same year, 680, we are told that there was a “brightness” in the East from the hour of the dog to the hour of the rat—about 8pm to midnight. Was this some kind of aurora? But wouldn’t that have been in the north, rather than the east?    Could it have been some kind of lightning? But that is a long time for a lightning storm to hang around.
And there are other strange things, some of which seem impossible and we have to doubt. For example, in 684 they said that, at dusk, the seven stars of the Big Dipper drifted together to the northeast and sank. Unless they are just recording the natural setting of the stars of the big dipper. Certainly, over time the constellation appears to rotate around the north star, and it dips down to or below the horizon in the autumn months. So were they just talking about the natural, yearly setting of the stars, or something else?
There may be some clues in that the 11th lunar month, when that was recorded, we see several other heavenly phenomena recorded. Two days after the Big Dipper set, at sunset, a star fell in the eastern quarter of the sky that we are told was as large as a jar. Later, the constellations were wholly disordered and stars fell like rain. That same month, a star shot up in the zenith and proceeded along with the Pleiades until the end of the month.
While this sounds like shooting stars and a possible meteor shower, a later commenter suggested that this was all a heavenly omen for the state of the court, showing the “disordered” state of the nobility at this time. Of course, this was also a year and change before the sovereign’s eventual passing, so there is also the possibility that the Chroniclers were looking at events later and ascribing meaning and importance after the fact.
In another account of something seemingly wonderous: in 682 we are told that something shaped like a Buddhist flag, colored like flame, was seen by all of the provinces and then sank into the Japan sea north of Koshi. A white mist is also said to have risen up from the Eastern mountains.
There are various things that could be going on here. It strikes me that the white mist could be a cloud, but could also be something volcanic. And the flame colored prayer flag makes me think about how a high cloud can catch the light of the rising or setting sun. That could look like a flag, and can seem extremely odd depending on the other conditions in the sky.
Or maybe it was aliens.
Okay, it is unlikely that it was aliens, but I think that these do give an idea of the kinds of records that were being made about the observed phenomena. Obviously the Nihon Shoki is recording those things that were considered particularly significant for whatever reason. This could just be because it was something odd and unexplained, or perhaps it was more well known but rare. It may have even had religious connotations based on some aspect, like evoking the image of Buddhist flags. And it is possible that it was thought to have had significant impact on events—perhaps even an impact that isn’t clear to us today, many centuries removed from the events.
Some things were clear, however. Lightning strikes are often mentioned specifically when they strike something of note. In 678, we are told that a pillar of the Western Hall of the New Palace was struck by lightning, though apparently the building itself survived. Then, in 686, Lighting appeared in the southern sky with a large roar of thunder. A fire broke out and caught the tax cloth storehouse of the Ministry of Popular affairs, which immediately exploded in flames. After all, a thatched roofed, wooden building filled with kindling in the form of cloth—and likely a fair amount of paper and writing supplies to keep track of it all—sounds like a bonfire waiting to happen. There were reports that the fire had actually started in Prince Osakabe’s palace and then spread to the Ministry of Popular Affairs from there.
It is also worth noting that recording of such events was still somewhat new to the archipelago as a whole. They were learning from the continent, but also defining their own traditions.
Observations of natural phenomena weren’t just relegated to celestial occurrences or weather. After all, there was something else that one could observe in the sky: birds. Now this wasn’t your average bird-watching—though I’m not saying that there weren’t casual birders in ancient Japan, and if we ever find someone’s birding diary from that era I think that would be so cool. But there were some things that were significant enough to be mentioned.
For example, in 678 we get a report of “atori”, or bramblings. Bramblings are small songbirds which are found across Eurasia. Notably they are migratory, and are known to migrate in huge flocks especially in the winter time, and sure enough on the 27th day of the 12th month we are told that the bramblings flew from the southwest to the northeast, covering the entire sky. This makes me think about some of the other mass migrations that used to occur that have largely been reduced significantly due to habitat loss, disruption to traditional migratory routes, and other population pressures on various bird species. Still, having so many birds that it blocked out the sky certainly seems a significant event to report on. We later see a similar account in 680, with the flock moving from southeast to northwest. Given the location of Asuka it sounds like they were flocking in the mountains and heading out over the Nara Basin, perhaps seeking food in another mountainous area.
In 682, the birders were at it again. This time, around midday on the 11th day of the 9th lunar month, several hundreds of cranes appeared around the Palace and soared up into the sky. They were there for about two hours before they dispersed. Once again, cranes are migratory and known to flock. Cranes are also known as a symbol of long life and joy—and I can understand it. Have you ever seen a flock of cranes? They are not small birds, and they can be really an incredible sight. Flocks of cranes themselves were probably not that rare, and it was no doubt more about so many gathering around the palace which made it particularly special.
It wasn’t just birds in the sky that were considered important symbols, though. Birds often are noted as auspicious omens. Usually strange birds, plants, or other such things are found in various provinces and presented to the throne.    So in 675, Yamato presented auspicious “barn-door fowl”, likely meaning a fancy chicken. Meanwhile, the Eastern provinces presented a white falcon and the province of Afumi presented a white kite. Chickens are associated with the sun and thus with the sun goddess, Amaterasu, and albino versions of animals were always considered auspicious, often being mentioned in Buddhist sources. Later, in 680, we see a small songbird, a “Shitodo”, also described as white, and probably albino, sent to the court from nearby Settsu.
Then, in 681 there is mention of a red sparrow. Red coloration is not quite the same as albinism, though it is something that does occur at times, when the brownish coloration comes out more red than brown, and I suspect this is what we are talking about. This is most likely just a recessed gene or genetic mutation, similar to causes for albinism, but just in a different place in the DNA. As for why it was important: I’d first and foremost note that anything out of the ordinary (and even some ordinary things) could be considered a sign.   Red was also seen as an auspicious color, so that may have had something to do with it as well. And then there is the concept of Suzaku, the red bird of the south. Suzaku is usually depicted as an exotic bird species of some kind, like how we might depict a phoenix. But it was also just a “red bird”, so there is that, and perhaps that was enough. Not that this red sparrow was “Suzaku”, but evoked the idea of the southern guardian animal. A year prior, in 680, a red bird—we aren’t told what kind—had perched on a southern gate, which even more clearly screams of the Suzaku aesthetic.
It is probably worth noting here that in 686, towards the end of the reign, not that anyone knew it at the time, Ohoama decided to institute a new nengo, or regnal period. It was called Shuuchou—red or vermillion bird—and it likely referred to Suzaku. This nengo was cut short, however, with Ohoama’s death that same year. Nengo were often chosen with auspicious names as a kind of hope for the nation, so clearly “red bird” was considered a good thing.
A month after the red sparrow, Ise sent a white owl, and then a month after that, the province of Suwou sent a red turtle, which they let loose in the pond at the Shima palace. Again, these were probably just examples of animals seen as auspicious, though they would have likely been recorded by the Onmyou-ryou, who would have likely combed through various sources and precedents to determine what kind of meaning might be attached to them.
Color wasn’t the only thing that was important. In 682, the Viceroy of Tsukushi reported that they had found a sparrow with three legs. There are numerous reasons why this could be, but there is particular significance in Japan and Asia more generally. A three legged bird is often associated with the sun Andusually depicted as a black outline of a three legged bird inside of a red sun. In Japan this was often conflated with the Yata-garasu, the Great Crow, which is said to have led the first mythical sovereign, Iware Biko, to victory in his conquest of Yamato. Thus we often see a three legged crow depicted in the sun, which was an object of particular veneration for the Wa people from centuries before. And I suspect that the little three-legged sparrow from Tsukushi I suspect that this had particular significance because of that image.
Animals were not the only auspicious things presented to the throne. In 678, Oshinomi no Miyatsuko no Yoshimaro presented the sovereign with five auspicious stalks of rice. Each stalk, itself, had other branches. Rice, of course, was extremely important in Japan, both from a ritual and economic sense, so presenting rice seems appropriate. Five stalks recalls things like the five elemental theory—and in general five was consider a good number. Three and five are both good, prime numbers, while four, pronounced “Shi”, sounds like death and is considered inauspicious. Three, or “San” is sometimes associated with life, and five is associated with the five elements, but also just the fact that it is half of ten, and we have five fingers on one hand and in so many other ways, five is regarded as a good number in much of Asia.
That the stalks had multiple branches likely referred to them bearing more than the usual amount of rice on them, which seems particularly hopeful. Certainly the court thought so. In light of the auspicious gift, all sentences of penal servitude and lower were remitted. In 680, Officials of the Department of Law gave tribute of auspicious stalks of grain, themselves. I’m not sure, in this case, that it was all that they hoped, however, as that began three days straight of rain and flooding.
A year earlier, in 679, we are told that the district of Ito, in Kii, immediately south of Yamato, sent as tribute the “herb of long life”. We are told that it “resembled” a mushroom—probably meaning it was a mushroom, or maybe something formed into a mushroom shape. But the stem was about a foot long and the crown was two spans, about 6 feet in diameter. This is pretty incredible, and I have to wonder if there is a bit of exaggeration going on here.
Another tribute was a horn found on Mt. Katsuraki. It branched into two at the base, was united at the end, and had some flesh and hair still attached, about an inch in length. They claimed it must be horn or a Lin, or Kirin, sometimes referred to as an Asian unicorn—a mythical creature considered to be quite auspicious and benevolent. This was on the 26th day in the 2nd lunar month of the year 680, probably around March or April. I highly suspect that what they found was an oddly shaped bit of antler from a buck whose antlers had begun to come in and which might have been taken out by wolves or bears or something else altogether. The fact that the ends were said to be fused together could just be referring to some kind of malformation of the antlers. The fur and flesh could mean that the antlers were still growing—antlers would probably just be coming in around early spring time. Still, there is no telling how long it was there, so it could have been from the previous year as well. Attributing it to a kirin seems a bit of a stretch, but it was clearly something unusual.
Animals and plants were recorded in tribute, but also when something odd happened. Fruiting out of season was one such occurrence, which we’ve seen elsewhere in the chronicles as well. There was even a record when the famous Tsuki tree outside of Asukadera had a branch fall down. Presumably it was a large and noticeable branch, and by now this appears to have been a tree with a bit of age to it that had seen a lot, so it makes sense it got a mention.
Finally, we go from the heavens to the earth.    Perhaps the most numerous observations in the Chronicles were the earthquakes. We’ve noted in the past that Japan is extremely active, volcanically speaking, so it makes sense that there are multiple accounts of earthquakes each year, especially if they were compiling reports from around the country. Most of these are little more than just a note that there was an earthquake, but a few stand out.
The first is the 12th lunar month of 678. We are told that there was a large earthquake in Tsukushi—modern Kyushu. The ground split open to the width of about 20 feet for more than 30,000 feet. Many of the commoners’ houses in the area were torn down. In one place there was a house atop a hill, and though the hill crumbled down the house somehow remained intact. The inhabitants had apparently been home and must have been oblivious, as they didn’t realize anything had happened until they woke up the next morning.
Again, probably a bit of hyperbole in here, but if we think back to things like the 2016 Kumamoto earthquake, where large areas of land shifted noticeably along the fault lines, it is likely that this was a similar or even more catastrophic event. And here I’ll give a quick plug for Kumamoto, which is still working to rebuild from the earthquake, and if you ever get a chance, I recommend a visit to the Kumamoto Earthquake Memorial Museum or Kioku, where you can see for yourself just how powerful mother nature can be.
Another powerful earthquake was mentioned in the 10th lunar month of 684. If the earthquake in Tsukushi had hit mostly agricultural areas, based on the description, this seems to have hit more populated regions. We are told that it started in the dark of night, the hour of the boar, so about 10pm, give or take an hour. The shaking was so bad that throughout the country men and women cried out and were disoriented—they could not tell east from west, a condition no doubt further hindered by the dark night sky. There were mountain slides and rivers changed course, breaking their banks and flooding nearby areas. Official buildings of the provinces and districts, the barns and houses of the common people, and the temples, pagodas, and shrines were all destroyed in huge numbers. Many people and domestic animals were killed or injured. The hot springs of Iyo were dried up and ceased to flow. In the province of Tosa, more than 500,000 shiro of cultivated land sank below sea level. Old men said that they had never seen such an earthquake. On that night there was a rumbling noise like that of drums heard in the east—possibly similar to what we had mentioned earlier. Some say that the island of Idzu, aka Vries Island, the volcanic island at the entrance of Edo Bay, increased on the north side by more than 3,000 feet and that a new island had been formed. The noise of the drums was attributed to the gods creating that island.
So here we have a catastrophic quake that impacted from Iyo, on the western end of Shikoku, all the way to the head of Edo Bay, modern Tokyo. This appears to be what seismologists have labelled a “Nankai Trough Megathrust Earthquake”. Similar quakes have occurred and are predicted to occur in the future., along a region of Japan from the east coast of Kyushu, through the Seto Inland Sea, including Shikoku, through the Kii peninsula and all the way to Mt. Fuji. The Nankai Trough, or Southern Sea Trough, is the area where the continental shelf drops down, and where the Philippine tectonic plate slips underneath the Eurasian—or more specifically the Amuric—plate. As these plates move it can cause multiple events all along the trough at the same time. Since being regularly recorded, these quakes have been noted every 100 to 150 years, with the last one being the Showa Nankai quakes of 1944 and 1946.
For all of the destruction that it brought, however, apparently it didn’t stop the court. Two days after this devastating quake we are told that Presents were made to the Princes and Ministers. Either they weren’t so affected in the capital, or perhaps the date given for one of the two records is not quite reliable. Personally, I find it hard to believe that there would be presents given out two days later unless they were some form of financial aid. But what do I know? It is possible that the court itself was not as affected as other areas, and they may not have fully even grasped the epic scale of the destruction that would later be described in the Chronicles, given the length of time it took to communicate messages across the country.
Which brings us back to the “science” of the time, or at least the observation, hoping to learn from precedence or piece out what messages the world might have for the sovereign and those who could read the signs. While many of the court’s and Chronicler’s conclusions may give us pause, today, we should nonetheless be thankful that they at least decided to keep notes and jot down their observations. That record keeping means that we don’t have to only rely on modern records to see patterns that could take centuries to reveal themselves.
Sure, at this time, those records were still a bit spotty, but it was the start of something that would be remarkably important, and even though these Chronicles may have been focused on propaganda, the fact that they include so many other references are an incalculable boon to us, today, if we can just see to make the connections.
And with that, I think I’ve rambled enough for this episode. We still have a couple more to fully cover this period.
Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
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Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

-,- (last checked 30 Nov 2025). 「南海トラフ地震について」. Japan Meteorological Agency. https://www.jma.go.jp/jma/index.html .
M. Meyer, G.W. Kronk. (2025). THE GREAT COMET C/1743 X1: POSSIBLE IDENTIFICATION IN HISTORIC RECORDS OF 1402, 1032, 676, AND 336 (J/OL). Journal of Astronomical History and Heritage, 2025, 28 (1): 29-49. 2025-04-28. 2025-12-01. https://www.sciengine.com/doi/10.3724/SP.J.140-2807.2025.01.02.
Bentley, John R. (2025). Nihon Shoki: The Chronicles of Japan. ISBN 979-8-218634-67-4 pb
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4.

Rough Transcript

References