They Go Fishing By The

A Handy Kind of Almanac

They Go Fishing By The Nights Of The Moon

By Charles Brown, Jr.

Shortly after his arrival at Tahiti in the ship Endeavour, m 1769, to observe the transit of Venus, Captain Cook, recording his observations of the Tahitians, wrote:

"Benevolent nature hath not only ; supplied them with necessaries, but : with an abundance of superfluities.

The sea-coast supplies them with : vast variety of the most excellent fish. . . Fish seems to be one of their greatest luxuries, and they eat it either raw or cooked, and seem to relish it one way as well as the other.”

When he recorded these observa tions in his journal, Captain Cook did not know that the Tahitian fishermen, before going to fish at night, consulted a primitive almanac.

Called “Nights of the Moon”, this Polynesian calendar was, for its purposes, as accurate as the nautical almanac of the Endeavour. It in dicated the nights on which the fish would swarm and those when there would not be as much as a minnow to be caught.

The calendar was as old as the race itself.

Since Captain Cook’s day, the ancient almanac has been continu ously handed down from father to son. Among the present-day Tahitians there are, especially in the outermost islands of the Society group, many fishermen who, keep ing alive the venerable traditions and customs of fishing, fish by it.

“I am hungry for fish,” says the Tahitian. And forthwith, accom panied by two or three boon com panions, he takes his spear, hooks and line, or net, and goes out upon the lagoon, happy in the racial belief that if Hiro, the ancient Tahitian god of thieves and fisher men, wills it, the canoe will return home laden almost to the gunwhales with the fat of the lagoon.

Bounty and Poverty

But, before going to fish, the Tahitian, consulting his calendar of the- Nights of the Moon, notes the time for the various fishes to suc ceed one another, as shown by the phases of the moon.

Nights of the Moon!

Tiero is the night of the new moon, the time of “breaking forth” of the moon; and Hiro-hiti falls on the second night, when the fish abound along the sea-coasts and crabs leave their holes and sidle across the sandy bottoms of the lagoons.

The third night is called “Jester

of the Two Bodies”, the bodies be ing the dark and the bright sides of the new moon.

On this night appear swarms of fish which are not fat, just as the clams, crabs, lobsters, oysters, and other shellfish are shockingly thin at this time.

After “Jester of the Two Bodies”, there succeed the nights of the “emergence”. “Emergence” signifies the moon coming out of the dark side, and there are three of these emergencies: First Emergence, Inner Emergence, and Last Emergence: three good fishing nights.

The seventh and eighth nights are

the “unyielding” nights, when the boisterqus north wind, blowing and blustering across sea and lagoon, drives the fish to the security of the tranquil depths, beyond the reach of hook and line.

But the ninth night brings fullest joy to the hearts of the fishermen.

It is the night of Tamatea. the night of the "Fair-child”, and the bonitos are swarming at sea. Aye, far out beyond the coral barrier reefs, into the wide, open seas, will venture the fishermen on this night, to fill their canoes with the oily bonitos which must appease their hunger and the hunger of their families during the successive four days.

For all too soon will the night of the “Fair-child” be followed by the tempestuous nights of the tenth, eleventh and twelfth, when the fish will again seek the safety of the depths.

But the thirteenth night is auspicious: the moon is becoming circular.

And, by the night of Hotu, the fifteenth night, all is “fruitfulness”, and the fishermen are reasonably certain of taking home an abundant harvest of the sea and the lagoon. (Continued on page 99)

Mara’i, “Clear Sky”, is the name the Tahitian has given to the sixteenth night in his almanac. It is now the time of the full moon, and all of the fish, including the shellfish, are fat and very pleasing to the taste.

Battalions of crabs are feeding upon the warm, shallow floors of the lagoons, the lobsters are gorg ing themselves with the delicious tidbits of the barrier reefs, and in the lagoons and the seas a hundred and more species of fish are fight ing the battle of the survival of the fittest. Big fish are eating little fish, as they have been doing from the time, aeons ago, when some volcanic fury heaved the islands up above the level of the sea.

The night of “Clear Sky” is fol lowed by the three fearsome nights, when the ghosts of Tahitian fisher men and pig-hunters stalk and paddle by reef and palm.

Then the fishermen, restrained by superstitious fears as old as the race, remain under their roofs, and frequently say, “ Aue! We are hungry for fish!”.

Nor will they venture out upon the lagoon on the twenty-first, twenty-second, and twenty-third nights. Again has the north wind mounted in fury, moaning and shrieking across the mountainous, swiftly running seas, like a ghost locked out of home.

Ta’aroa-tahi means the night of the “First Severing”, and is the twenty-fourth night of the Nights of the Moon. It is a night on which many babies are born.

When the happiest event in the life of a Tahitian fisherman occurs, he, as a good father ought to do, does not go fishing that evening, but stays at home and anticipates the joyous day when he will first slip a tasty sardine into the mouth of his latest born.

On the three evenings which follow the night of the “First Sever ing”, however, he hastens off to the lagoon. He knows that the interstices of the rocks and ledges are then full of fish for him to take with his hand or spear, and that the red fish—which he eats with coconut sa u c e—are especially numerous.

Moreover, these are nights when he, drawing upon his inherent skill, is at his best; he will not leave the fishing-grounds until he has taken a sufficency of fish.

His almanac ever in mind, he is aware that on the succeeding night, the twenty-eighth, the fish will again become scarce.

Furthermore, but two nights re main on his calendar after the night of scarcity. On the first of these, the moon will be utterly “overtaken by oblivion”, and on the night of Motu, which means severed, the period of the almanac will end.

Once the characteristics of the

specific night of the moon have been noted, and the night is seen to be one after the heart of the fisher men’s god Hiro, the brown fisher man, accompanied by two or three boon companions, places himself and the fishing equipment in the primitive dug-out canoe Taking the handle of the paddle 1S TJu£ e the hand of an old friend, he pushes out into the lagoon, his heart as light as the sea-foam which falls t l ' ol ™ the paddle. The next instant, a § if possessed of life and volition the canoe glides ahead, holding its wa y towards the fishing-ground.