We've seen it (and heard it) many times in action movies with Japanese warriors: many of their 'surprise attacks' are exposed by the noise made by wooden floors when walking on them, or ninjas try to avoid them by attacking through the ceilings. The "Nightingale Floor" or "uguisubari" is perfectly real, and if you travel to Japan you can experience it yourself, but is it actually a revolutionary security system, or a simple side effect of the construction process?
The Land of Temples and Castles
There are many things to visit in Japan, perhaps too many. From its impressive cities to giant robots, via night train services and public baths, we are convinced that a single trip would not be enough. However, it would be a very rude mistake to ignore the country's historical and traditional profile. A large number of temples and castles await you, each with unique properties, but also several common elements.
The Nightingale Floor
One of these elements is the uguisubari, the Nightingale Floor. The name comes from uguisu, the local description for the Japanese bush warbler, Horornis diphone, a bird quite generous with its singing. In essence, the uguisubari makes a noise similar to that of the bird when we walk on it. The wooden boards creak naturally, but the additional noise is impossible to confuse.
Several sources suggest that the Nightingale Floor dates back to the 17th century. The floor is constructed in such a way that the nails used rub against the hooks that hold the planks. There are variants that use hooks placed diagonally or forming a 'V', but the end result is the same: If someone steps on the boards, it will not be silent.
Now, almost everyone presents the uguisubari as an alarm system. There was a time when it was not difficult to make enemies in Japan, and anyone could end up run through by a sword during the night. The simple act of installing noisy floors around the rooms could be enough to warn those sleeping, or alternatively, their guards. However, a pinch of literature in Nijō Castle in Kyoto suggests that the detail, at first, was not intentional. An initial defect turned into an advantage? Personally, I like that idea.
Source: Tablazed
