Reports of pokémon abuse and cruelty have risen dramatically in the past two months, following the exposure of a series of illegal pokémon fighting rings across the country. Though many of us will agree that rescuing the involved pokémon was for the best, the story is not without its share of controversy. Many people, alongside the owners of these rings, have already commented that they saw no difference between the illegal matches and trainer battles. Others have stated that the poor treatment of the pokémon in these rings were forced to set these incidents apart from normal circumstances.
Others have different opinion. The group People for the Ethical Treatment of Everything (PETE) has stated that, "regardless of the situation, pokémon battles, whether legal or illegal, are ultimately harmful. All pokémon battles must be banned to prevent any further cruelty that may be inflicted on them through the abuse of their masters."
This is not the first time that PETE has made such a statement, nor is it the last. The group has been protesting meat eating, and promoting vegetarianism and a veganism. PETE has been criticized in the past for its extreme views and methods of garnering attention for their cause. Two years ago, three activists broke into a cattle ranch and released a herd of tauros. The resulted stampede caused over a thousand mew of property damage, and threatened the farfetch'd habitat on Route 38.
Chance Chandler, the head of PETE, has issued another controversial statement, regarding lapras hunting in the northern regions of the world. "The lapras is a gentle and intelligent pokémon, but it is currently in danger of disappearing. The number of lapras has been shrinking dramatically worldwide. Though lapras hunting is now banned in all regions, it continues to exist in the tribal populations of the north. I call upon the governments to end lapras hunting in its entirety in order to save these beautiful creatures."
Chandler has sparked a debate between many academics, especially biologists and anthropologists. Though few people would want the lapras to go extinct, how far does their protection extend? Should lapras hunting cease completely, even if it means infringing on an ancient culture? Or should things continue as they are, potentially placing the lapras in even greater danger? In investigating these questions, I was granted the privilege of traveling to the Riyel Region, home of the indigenous Tenma Kehm.
I traveled through Sinnoh and boarded a ship in Canalave City. Unlike previous trips to different regions on the magnet train or S. S. Aqua, the trip was slow and uncomfortable. S. S. Jenny has a long history, beginning when she was purchased new for kingler fishing. After the death of the captain's mother, the ship was sold and used for transporting cargo around Riyel. With the boom of tourist and trainer travel in the past decade, the ship began sailing internationally. Four years ago it came into the hands of a new owner, Gladys Blackburn. Blackburn transformed the once-humble cargo ship into a passenger ship. The hull is strong enough to break ice in Riyel's waters, but the ship is older than I am. Though she has yet to fail a safety check, I was glad to only have to stay one night on Jenny.
There is no doubt that Blackburn tried to make Jenny as comfortable as possible, but the smell of kinglers still clings to the green carpet and painted walls. My room was small, with enough room to pace anxiously while high waves battered and rocked the vessel. The ship's true blessing, to me, at least, was the close proximity of a bathroom, no matter where you were. My nervousness about traveling in such an old ship did not help my already flip-flopping stomach. Arriving at the harbor in Isarot City, I understood why sailors kissed the ground upon returning to shore. Jenny may have gotten us across the sea, but I was not eager to climb back aboard for the return trip.
Professor Mulberry met me at the harbor. His face was ruddy from the cold wind as he waved towards me. Drake Mulberry is most often remembered as the actor turned pokéologist, and even in his mid-40s he still has the charming smile and chiseled features that won the hearts of so many fans. Having grown up with his films, I was ecstatic to meet him in person. He greeted me with a handshake and hug, as though we were old friends. He spoke quickly and amiably, giving no hint of the previous celebrity he once enjoyed. While Drake (he insisted I call him by his first name) was not willing to discuss his acting career and the reason he decided to become a professor, he was eager to discuss anything academic with me. Having lived in Riyel for several years at this point, he was also going to be my escort in the Tenma Kehm village.
I had slept poorly the previous night, and the morning came far too soon. The fastest way to the village was not by any sort of traditional vehicle, but by sledge. The team of glaceons that pulled it were bred for this specific purpose. They stood almost a foot taller at the shoulder than other domesticated breeds, and muscles rippled under their coats. Eevees and their evolutions are often sweet, gentle pokémon, but these glaceons broke that rule. Once free of the sledge, they would fight with each other, and any other pokémon unlucky enough to get in their path. They seemed more feral than tame, even vicious at times. Drake referred to it as "the law of club and fang"; that is, the strongest pokémon had the greatest likelihood of survival.
The sledge was surprisingly smooth as it glided across the ice and snow banks, and it may have been a pleasant ride except for the bitter cold. The trip was just short of four hours when we arrived in the Kehm settlement. My legs were stiff from the trip, and I was frozen to the bone despite my warm outdoor gear. Huts stretched along the horizon, largely made of stantler hide. The tribe kept their own communal herd, but most families had one or two of their own. Swinubs were also plentiful in the village, but few piloswine, and no mamoswine to speak of. Seel and dewgong lazed on the ice by the ocean, and I was informed that the Kehm fed them and protected them from threats on land. The dewgongs, in turn, served as guards from any dangerous pokémon in the ocean. They protected their territory, which included the people living on it.
Drake and I were greeted by Keniel, the chieftain of the tribe. He spoke Common, as did most of the villagers. It was just furhter proof that globalization reached even the farthest corners of the world. After exchanging the proper formalities, we were welcomed into his hut. Drake and Keniel had been acquaintances for years, and it was only thanks to him that I was allowed to come and observe the village. When I explained that I was here to watch a lapras hunt, Keniel expressed surprise at my interest. "Most southerners disagree with us, but it is our way. I did not expect anyone outside our village to approve." He explained that there would be a hunt in a few days time, and I was welcome to stay until then.
That afternoon we took a tour around the village. Everyone in the tribe had a job to do, and they did it without complaint. Several children were in the snow, playing with eevees. Like the glaceons, they were larger than the fancier breeds, taller and more muscular. They played on the ice or splashed briefly in the frozen water, but they did so with a purpose. Eevees are highly valued around the world, and breeding pairs even more so. The Kehm have traded and raised them for generations, but for far different purposes than a collector or a trainer. Due to generations of inbreeding, eevees' DNA is highly unstable, and its environment largely determines what it evolves into in the absence of evolution stones. Here, they are predisposed to evolve into glaceons and vaporeons. Flareons are also prized, and usually evolve after a comfortable life by the fireside. Unlike their working counterparts, flareons are kept mostly as pets and denote status among the villagers.
The glaceons, along with pulling sledges, are also used as guards and protectors. One or two of them are always employed to watch the stantler herd, and others are taken on hunting trips. The vaporeons are trained to hunt for fish in the cold water. None of these creatures could be called gentle, but they show affection to the family they grew up with, and the child in particular. If any threat came to their families, they grow even fearsome and deadly.
The following day, Drake and I awoke early to observe vaporeon fishing. Vaporeons are much more efficient than nets or poles, and could catch more in an hour than their masters could in a day. The vaporeons were allowed to eat any magikarp they caught, but any other species were given to their respective owners. Once, a staryu leapt out of the water and hung in the air, obviously fighting with a vaporeon. I waited for someone to issue commands to it, but the vaporeon knew to act on its own.
The staryu spun in the air, slicing towards the vaporeon. The vaporeon simply faded away, into the water before its foe came crashing down. A classic, almost mythological trait of the species: to be able to disappear into water. It crawled back to shore, cut and bleeding. It didn't try to run and hide, or look for comfort, but stood its ground and unleashed an aurora beam. The staryu fell into the ocean, and the vaporeon retrieved it. Later, the hard shell and red core would be used to make tools.
After a meal of freshly-caught seaking and luvdisc, I was invited by a young woman named Lairie to learn how to ride a stantler. She showed me how to put on its saddle and bridle, and helped me on to its back. Having seen how dangerous the supposedly gentle species were here, I was not eager to be so close to the stantler herd. The stantlers were, instead, curious about me. They proved to be genuinely friendly, and patient with a new rider. Though frightened at first, I soon got used to the uneven gait and the feeling of such a large, powerful creature underneath me. I managed to fall off three times, but otherwise enjoyed the experience. I could not say how long I learned to ride, because the sun was shining, and would continue to do so for a few months more. It was impossible for me to keep track of time, but Lairie eventually informed me that I would need to return to Keniel's hut for supper. "I prefer riding to sledges," she said as we walked back together. "The stantlers are more welcome than the glaceons in the towns."
When I asked if she visited other towns often, she only frowned. "My sister married and moved to one of them. Every year we lose more to the cities."
Lairie's words show only a hint of what is truly happening to the Kehm tribe. Their population is shrinking rapidly, not due to disease or any of the many environmental dangers. More and more villagers, especially young adults, are leaving to live and work in other cities. Modernization promises an easier lifestyle with more security, far away from the tundra. It is the main reason that most outsiders are no longer welcomed inside the village. By closing themselves off, they hope to preserve their ways. Keniel worries that within a few generations, there will be no one left to continue this ancient way of life.
The lapras hunt commenced early the next day. Nearly twenty men loaded themselves into canoes, armed with spears. Each had a vaporeon by their sides as well, looking alert and intense as the vehicles were pushed out to the ocean.
I can't say how long they rowed, but land seemed to be far behind us. Though nervous, I had been assured that no one ever gotten lost at sea during these trips. The height of summer was the best time for hunting, when most of the lapras population was up north. There may have been stars to guide us home in the winter, but by that time, the quarry would have all migrated to warmer waters.
One of the hunters spotted them before anyone else, a mother and her calf. Lapras tend to be solitary creatures, and the graceful pair was alone. There was a flurry of handsignals; the hunters had not been spotted. All motion in the canoe froze.
The hunters whispered commands to their vaporeons, and the pokémon acted quickly, summoning a mist off the surface of the sea water. The haze rose around us, enshrouding the canoes. Given another command, the vaporeons dove into the water without a splash. Under the misty cover, the hunters paddled slowly after their quarry.
It was nearly impossible to see through the haze, and the vaporeons appeared to by our guides as we approached the lapras. When we got in proximity of the lapras pair, the vaporeons ducked underneath the dark water, disappearing entirely. We waited to move forward until they emerged again, this time blasting ice beams at the lapras.
The calf squealed and tried to hide behind its mother as one of the aurora beams hit it, but instead was frozen solid. The mother trumpeted, a piercing cry that would echo in my ears even after I returned home. Lapras generally have a reputation as gentle creatures, that is, until their mates or offspring are threatened. She charged towards the nearest vaporeon, slapping it with one of her fins. It yelped as it was repelled away from the lapras.
Meanwhile, the hunters had surrounded the calf, casting nets. It squealed as it was trapped in hand-made ropes, and wriggled feebly, but otherwise could not fight back.
The mother was fierce as her calf was being led away, and ignored the vaporeons and charged straight towards the hunters with calf in tow. She slammed herself into the side of the canoe, nearly breaking it in half. The ends of the net dropped into the water, and the hunters struggled to try to keep their vessel steady and together. One of them scrambled for the net's rope and managed to grasp it before it slipped out his hands. The calf now freed, its mother let out another bellow and rushed to its side, trying to untangle it from the net.
The vaporeons surrounded the struggling creature, diving in close. Instead of using any special attacks, they bit into the lapras's flesh, drawing blood. She dove under the water, though received no reprieve from her aquatic pursuers.
It seemed someone had shouted an order that I had not heard, for all at once the hunters removed their mittens and each pulled out a ball made up of a yellowish substance. It took me a second to recognize it as combee wax. I couldn't imagine how hard it was to obtain in the frozen northern regions, and I started to ask what it was for. I never heard an answer, though. It seemed I had been forgotten in the rush as everyone around me began to plug their ears with the wax.
Just as someone remembered to give me wax as well, the lapras emerged from the water. I could see several gashes on her, bright red blood spilling out from her multiple wounds. I watched, completely entranced, to see what she would do next. Weakened, it was obvious that there would be no escape for her.
What she did was something I would have never expected.
She sang.
It was the sound of infinite sadness that I cannot begin to describe in words. It was the sound of loss. I felt a coldness overtake me, something that had nothing to do with the already below freezing temperatures. I started crying, for a reason I didn't understand. It didn't take them long to notice the tears falling out of my eyes, dripping off my chin. I didn't know what was going on, didn't know that my life was suddenly in danger, and I didn't care.
The hunters, however, knew exactly what was happening. They started paddling furiously towards the lapras. Injured at it was, she still fought back, releasing an ice beam. The ice settled on the waves, but not before the hunters had thrown their spears at the poor creature. One pierced her neck, and she fell under the ocean water. I felt as though something had been torn from me as she died. I found myself screaming.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in Keneil's hut, with Drake nearby. I sat up slowly while Drake explained what had happened. The lapras, knowing that it would be unable to escape, sang what the Kehm call its "Perish Song". The ability is so rare, it is still a mystery to pokéologists. The song is said to link the injured lapras to any person who hears it. After a certain amount of time, both parties will die if the lapras is not killed before time runs out. The hunters who plugged their ears with expensive wax were safe from the deadly song, and I was fortunate to make it out alive.
The weight of the lapras's sadness lifted from me as I emerged from the hut, and was surprised at the celebration that awaited me. The hunt had been a success, and the lapras had provided enough meat and blubber for every family in the tribe. Its bones and horn would all be made into tools, and its hard shell and thick skin would become protective gear, to be used during other dangerous hunts.
But more importantly, no hunters had been lost, and only three vaporeons had been killed. I asked about the calf, and was informed that it had swam away. This was unfortunate, Drake explained, because calves are usually unable to survive on their own. The Kehm have sold some claves to various zoos around the world, but also release them back into the wild if there is another lapras in the area. It was one way they could control the population.
Though there is no easy answer to the question of lapras hunting, its importance in the Tenma Kehm culture is not to be understated. The Kehm rely on the harsh environment not just for survival, but to preserve their way of life—a way of life which is rapidly disappearing.