In folklore and humor, snow monkeys are sometimes depicted as wise, but just as often they appear as living symbols of mischievous ingenuity. In children's tales, macaques often outsmart other animals, escaping certain death or winning food through a clever ruse.

Increasingly, however, Japan's treasured primate is coming into conflict with the nation's people, in large part because the Japanese have cleared away nearly half of the monkeys' forested homelands and built farms and towns nearby. In some areas, for instance, it has become routine to see macaques marauding through farm fields and orchards; according to government statistics, they destroy or damage at least 15,000 acres each year.

Though aggressive, macaques rarely injure humans during such rampages. Last year, however, snow monkeys terrorized a seaside town south of Tokyo, injuring 30 people and sending eight to the hospital with bite wounds. "My wife tried to scare them with a mop, but they chased her all the way to the train station," reported one witness.

To stave off problems, officials have tried everything from creating feeding stations far from populated areas and installing electronic fences to leaving food laced with birth control chemicals for wild macaques. But the government also allows a more chilling solution: since 1980, it has permitted farmers and others to kill up to 5,000 snow monkeys per year. Although Japan's snow monkey population as a whole is not endangered, some biologists fear that such culling, in addition to continued habitat destruction, could drive some local populations to extinction.

The knowledge that scientists have gained through studying snow monkeys such as Mozu and her family, however, promises to help conservationists protect the species. And there is little doubt that Mozu's remarkable story has helped people around the world to see snow monkeys in a new light -- as close relatives of ours, capable of tenderness, devotion, and courage.

Photos: Masashi Koizumi