Tanuki Swinging His Coin Pouch – How Did Japanese Woodblock Artists See This Rascal?

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Just when we thought nothing in Japanese folklore could surprise us anymore…

Tanuki is a creature that holds a place in Japanese culture as honorable as it is… incomprehensible to the rest of the world. It looks like the result of an illegal experiment between a badger, a raccoon, and a dog, but don’t be fooled. This is no ordinary animal—it’s a Japanese master of transformation, a prankster who’s been playing tricks on humans since the Nihon Shoki of the 8th century, and the only mammal in cultural history whose scrotum made it into the arts with such flair, as if he were a national hero. The tanuki is a real animal (Nyctereutes procyonoides), but its legendary version long ago broke free from biology and rushed headlong into the realms of mythology, absurdity, and delightful madness.

Tanuki can do it all: transform into a teapot, a monk, a samurai, a banknote, or a beautiful lady. He vanishes, appears suddenly, leaves leaves instead of money, and sometimes even helps people—but always with a prank up his sleeve. He’s a bit like the Japanese Loki, a bit like a fairy-tale trickster, but with the addition of sake, a prominent belly, and a disarming smile. And what about his famously epic scrotum—a motif as absurd as it is frequently depicted? The explanation lies in craftsmanship: during the Edo period, goldsmiths would wrap gold ingots in tanuki skin to gently hammer them into thin foil. The skin was elastic and strong—gold yielded without resistance. And thus the saying was born that one ingot could produce “a sheet the size of eight tatami mats.” And since kin no tama (金の玉 – golden ball) sounds almost identical to kintama (金玉 – slang for testicles)… well, Tokugawa Japan had enough of a sense of humor to turn a pun into a whole folklore. Tanuki doesn’t destroy—he disarms. He doesn’t threaten—he laughs at us, and we, whether we like it or not, laugh along with him.

Ukiyo-e—the ephemeral entertainment art of the Edo period—fell in love with tanuki from the first joke. When artists had had enough of proud samurai, melancholic moons, and lofty geisha, they reached for the tanuki like a cup of sake after a hard day. In his scrotum, they saw not only a joke, but artistic potential: a drum, a tent, a fishing net, or a parachute—serving simultaneously as social commentary and satire. Tanuki became the hero of comic (kyōga), erotic, parodic, and simply bizarre woodblock prints—and he hasn’t lost popularity to this day. On the contrary—he leaped from legend into pop culture, disguised as a talisman, mascot, Ghibli actor, and power-up in Mario Bros. But before he became a 21st-century celebrity, he had to travel a long, winding, and funny road—which we are now about to tell.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki in Japanese Folklore and Legend

Is it a badger? A raccoon? Or perhaps an eccentric hedgehog with extraordinary self-confidence? No, no—it’s the icon of Japan’s mischievous folklore: the tanuki, or Nyctereutes procyonoides, the Japanese raccoon dog—a canid that neither barks nor snores, but can… turn into a teapot. Tanuki is a creature of flesh, bone, and myth—present for centuries in both Japanese fauna and folklore. Though its real-life anatomy is not particularly extraordinary (well, maybe that mischievous little face, looking at you mockingly, and perhaps with a touch of pity), in legends it grows into a trickster demiurge—a being with magical powers, shape-shifting abilities, and an unpredictable, mischievous sense of humor.

From Legends and Chronicles

Tanuki appears in myths very early on—already in the Nihon Shoki of the year 720, where we read that in the province of Mutsu “tanuki transform into humans and sing songs.” In the Nihon Ryōiki from the late 8th century and the Shūi Monogatari from the 13th century, his abilities evolve: he can not only change shape but also possess humans, cast illusions, and leave behind a trail of chaos—always with a “smile beneath the mustache.”

Tanuki is the quintessential prankster—a cousin of the European fox, the African hare, and the Norse Loki. He loves playing tricks: he can turn a leaf into a coin, disguise himself as a monk, a samurai, or a distinguished patron of a pleasure house and pay the owner… with a handful of dry leaves. In many tales, people fall for his spells, but it rarely ends in tragedy—more often in laughter, confusion, and a moment of reflection on human greed or pride.

Tales from the Tanuki’s Life

One of the best-known stories is that of Bunbuku Chagama, or “the bubbling lucky teapot.” In this tale, a peasant rescues a tanuki from a trap, and the grateful animal repays him by transforming into a teapot, which the man then sells to a temple, profiting handsomely. Unfortunately, the tanuki cannot withstand the heat; midway through the transformation, a furry tail pops out of the teapot and the animal flees—only to later open a circus with the peasant, performing somersaults as a half-teapot, half-tanuki. Financial independence guaranteed.

In another story, a tanuki disguised as a monk (Soko-tanuki) works for years in a temple until one day he falls asleep and reveals his true face. The monks, instead of being angry, promote him for good conduct. In yet another tale, a tanuki impersonates a samurai and enters a pleasure house in Nagasaki. He enjoys all the services, but when he is unmasked, the money he paid with turns into leaves. Naturally—he escapes. Classic.

There’s also Bōzu-tanuki from the island of Shikoku, who shaves the heads of passersby as they cross his bridge—just because, why not?

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

A Scrotum the Size of Eight Tatami Mats

And now, let us turn to anatomy. What makes the tanuki such a peculiar star of Japanese folklore is his… scrotum. Yes, that’s not a typo. We’re not talking about testicles (睾丸 – kōgan), but the scrotum (陰嚢 – in’nō), which, according to legend, can stretch to a surface the size of eight tatami mats—about 12 square meters. Admittedly, this seems impractical, but that’s exactly why it resonates so deeply with the Japanese sense of humor—where grotesque meets magic.

Where did this idea come from? The answer lies in craftsmanship. In the Edo period, goldsmiths wrapped gold ingots in tanuki skin to hammer them into thin foil. The skin was elastic and durable, and the gold—pliable. This gave rise to the proverb that from a single piece of gold one could make “a sheet the size of eight tatami.” And since kin no tama (金の玉 – “golden ball”) sounds nearly identical to kintama (金玉 – slang for testicles)… there you have it. A linguistic joke straight from Tokugawa Japan.

Over time, the tanuki gained the status of a symbol of prosperity: the stretching scrotum came to symbolize the capacity to expand wealth. Attention—expand wealth—not necessarily anything else, though Western observers can easily fall into that trap of interpretation.

Tanuki is not just folklore—it’s a philosophy of laughter in the face of absurdity, an art of deception without victims, and a reminder that reality is not always what it seems. Or is it? With the tanuki, you never quite know.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki as a Hero of Ukiyo-e Art

When ukiyo-e artists had had enough of warriors, beautiful courtesans, and landscapes beneath Mount Fuji, they could always count on one companion who never failed: the tanuki. Mischievous, with a belly like a barrel of sake and a scrotum that could serve as the sail of a legendary ship—the tanuki became the perfect protagonist of woodblock prints, which themselves were somewhat subversive: an ephemeral art of entertainment, but also full of hidden meanings.

Why then did ukiyo-e so eagerly reach for this shaggy schemer? Because the tanuki was—and remains—the perfect symbol of Japanese irony and sense of humor. He combined a childlike joy in magic and pranks with subtle social satire. He could pretend to be a samurai, a monk, or even a teapot. His oversized scrotum was not so much a source of embarrassment as of creative invention—in woodblock prints it served as a drum, mat, raincoat, or even... a balloon. And since ukiyo-e was not afraid of erotic, bodily, or absurd themes, the tanuki fit perfectly into its aesthetic: as a folk hero, comical and philosophical at once.

The Masters of Tanuki: Kuniyoshi, Yoshitoshi, Kyōsai, and Others

The first and most important “illustrator” of the tanuki was Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1797–1861), the unpredictable genius of ukiyo-e who transformed ordinary tales into grotesque and humorous images. His tanuki are like children of the imagination: costumed, deformed, surprising. Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839–1892), the last great master of the Edo period, couldn’t resist the pleasure of depicting the tanuki in full splendor—although in his case, there is often also a note of melancholy and moodiness. Kawanabe Kyōsai (1831–1889)—a student of Kuniyoshi and a master of eccentricity—created compositions so fantastical that a tanuki could sing opera in them, fight demons, or play music on his own genitals. Utagawa Yoshitsuya (1822–1866), on the other hand, showed the tanuki as an unassuming hero of everyday life, who meddles in human affairs not so much maliciously as with an ironic twinkle in his eye.

And now it’s time for some concrete examples. Take a deep breath—because at times you won’t be sure whether it’s a joke or whether they really meant it.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Sick Tanuki / Tanuki as the Seven Gods of Fortune
狸の七福神

(Tanuki no Shichifukujin)

– Utagawa Kuniyoshi, 1844

ABOVE: Tanuki here... is suffering. From what exactly? No one knows. But the fact that he is wrapped in a blanket and lying down like a stereotypical man with a cold says a lot. It’s a gentle mockery of human hysteria and, at the same time, a compassionate portrait of a creature who usually plays pranks but now needs care itself. Humor meets empathy.

BELOW: Imagine that the tanuki decided to become... all seven gods of fortune at once. In this parody by Kuniyoshi, each divine figure (such as Daikokuten, Bishamonten, or Jurōjin) is replaced by a tanuki—of course, in his characteristic role. The patterns on the robes, the comical expressions, and the oversized coin pouches (both literal and metaphorical)—all of it combines into one of the most inventive reinterpretations of Shintō in folk art.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki on a Rainy Day
雨の日の狸

(Ame no Hi no Tanuki)

– Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, 1881, from the series Tōkyō Kaika Kyōga Meisho

(Comic Images of Famous Places in the Early Days of Tokyo)

This work by Yoshitoshi depicts a scene in which medicine vendors are surprised by a tanuki with an unusually large “coin pouch” on the plains of Hiroo in the Azabu district. The image is part of the series Tōkyō Kaika Kyōga Meisho, which portrays humorous scenes from the early days of Tokyo. In the original print, the lower section features this scene with the tanuki, while the upper section (not present in this reproduction) shows a comic scene with a tengu.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki and the Thunder God – Three Scenes of Grotesque
雷神と狸の戯れ

(Raijin to tanuki no tawamure)

– Kawanabe Kyōsai, 1864, Edo

This subversive triptych by Kawanabe Kyōsai, known for his love of grotesque and humor, presents three separate yet symbolically connected scenes. On the left, we see a tanuki scaring a terrified hunter, using his enormous scrotum transformed into a mask resembling a monster/god—Raijin. It’s a classic example of the tanuki’s ability to transform and deceive—at once humorous and slightly unsettling.

In the center of the frame, a mouse sits on a thin branch, staring into the void. Its presence is mysterious and seems to contrast with the dynamic neighboring scenes. In Japanese symbolism, a mouse can represent both cunning and escape—perhaps this is an ironic commentary on the chaos that tanuki and gods alike can stir up.

On the right side, we see the figure of the thunder demon Raijin, who... is trying to retrieve his lost drum. One of his characteristic “thunder drums” is stuck on the ground, and a man with a long pole—most likely an ordinary passerby or servant—is helping him, handing the instrument back up into the sky. The scene is subversive: the powerful storm deity—usually depicted as a wild, evil spirit that accompanies typhoons—does not send down lightning but patiently waits for someone to return his lost item.

It’s a subtle mockery of mythology: Raijin, the embodiment of chaos and unpredictability, becomes here dependent on the help of a mere mortal. Or perhaps it’s just another of the tanuki’s pranks, who in the previous scene is already sowing confusion? In Kyōsai’s work, the boundary between gods, animals, and humans blurs—and that’s the point.

This triptych is a textbook example of kyōga—“comic pictures”—but beneath the veil of absurdity lies something more: an ironic lesson about how easily humans are frightened, distracted, or deceived—especially by their own imagination.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki as the Monk Daruma
狸の達磨

(Tanuki no Daruma)

– Utagawa Kuniyoshi, c. 1840

In this illustration, the tanuki takes the form of the monk Daruma, a symbol of perseverance and self-discipline. However, with his characteristic humor, the tanuki uses his scrotum as the monk’s robe. This work is a satirical commentary on spirituality and religion, showing how the tanuki approaches serious topics with a wink.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki as an Archer
狸の弓術

(Tanuki no Kyūjutsu)

– Utagawa Kuniyoshi, c. 1840

Here the tanuki demonstrates his archery skills, using his scrotum as a target. The scene is full of energy and humor, presenting the tanuki as a master of improvisation. The tanuki who are shooting arrows don’t seem too concerned about the one serving as the target. Could this be a social commentary?

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki Fishing in the River
狸の釣り

(Tanuki no Tsuri)

– Utagawa Kuniyoshi, c. 1840

In this scene, the tanuki uses his scrotum as a fishing net, catching fish with extraordinary effectiveness. At the same time, the image presents a community (a fishing village) of tanuki working together in cooperation.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki as Belly Drum
狸の腹鼓

(Tanuki no Haratsuzumi)

– Utagawa Kuniyoshi, c. 1840

In this illustration, several tanuki play a drum that is—yes, you guessed it. This scene is full of energy, depicting the tanuki as a symbol of carefree joy and play.

These ukiyo-e works portray the tanuki as a figure full of contradictions: sacred and secular, serious and amusing, human and animal. Perhaps you also noticed a curious detail—many of the prints (especially those by Kuniyoshi) resemble other, more serious ukiyo-e works. That’s intentional—they are parodies. Could you identify some? Let’s take just one here—“Sudden Evening Shower”...

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

Tanuki Haunts Us Even in the 21st Century

Though the tanuki long ago stepped off the paper of ukiyo-e prints, he has by no means retired. On the contrary—this wild master of metamorphosis has adapted brilliantly to modern times. Today, we’re more likely to encounter him not in woodblock prints but… in front of an izakaya, a Japanese pub serving sake and grilled snacks. He watches us from the entrance, slightly tipsy, with his signature grin, a hat on his head, a bottle in one paw, and a scroll of fortune in the other. His mighty scrotum (this time captured in ceramic, not epic form) is no longer used for sails or umbrellas, but rather serves as a symbol of prosperity and success in business—all thanks to the ceramics of Shigaraki in Shiga Prefecture, where since the 1930s, the tanuki has acquired his modern, distinctive appearance thanks to the potter Tetsuzō Fujiwara.

The modern tanuki is a living talisman of commerce—the embodiment of the Japanese wish shōbai hanjō! (“may business thrive!”). The symbolism of his accessories is no accident:
– the hat protects from sudden poverty,
– the scrolls represent wisdom and prudence,
– the sake stands for life’s joy,
– the big belly symbolizes peace of mind,
– and the scrotum… well, that we already know: flexibility, luck, gold, humor… and basically everything else, too.

But the tanuki was not content with the role of a ceramic mascot. Thanks to the Studio Ghibli film Pom Poko (1994), in which the protagonists defend their forest from urbanization using transforming testicles (we’re not joking), he achieved cult status. He also appears in video games—Super Mario Bros. 3 introduced the world to the “tanuki suit,” a costume that lets Mario fly (yes, it’s a tanuki, not, as is sometimes mistakenly believed, a raccoon). The tanuki shows up in commercials, travel guides, and as the mascot of various regions—and consistently embodies the playful spirit of Japan, unafraid of absurdity, able to laugh at itself, and capable of turning myth into marketing.

Today, the tanuki is a paradoxical figure: a deity, a jester, and an entrepreneur all in one. He is simultaneously a mischievous spirit of nature who once deceived samurai and monks, and an icon of economic fortune with a ceramic coin pouch between his legs. There are few creatures that have leapt so gracefully from legend to advertisement, from mythology to business plan—and still have time to grin while doing it.

The Motif of the Tanuki in Ukiyo-e Art – As Seriously as the Subject Allows

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