Symbol of a Bygone Time

 

I know this is not the first time I've led off with the photograph of a Longhorn.  They are picturesque critters and I enjoy seeing the colorful beasts in the pasture.  This one is in fact a Corriente Cross cow and not a pure Longhorn -- whatever such might be.

Painted and splashed with colors galore
She grazes the Great Southern Plains
Not know how symbolic she stands
Of an era dimmed with age.

Once great herds of clicking horns
Trailed up from the brush 
To markets the railways had reached
On their transcontinental quest

Of populating the western reaches
Of a country just beginning to feel
The strength of the mightly economic engine
Swelling with power of imagination

Into the vast unknown lands
Of bewildered tribes who found a new enemy
Much stronger than their ancestral nemises
With whom they had fought for ages.

She and her kind fed the westering hordes
As well as those left behind 
In the growing cities where
Food must be imported from elsewhere.

Today, she is as much a relic
As the American Bison
And the painted natives
That she helped to displace.

U-turn for a Longhorn

Okay, I admit it; we stopped, turned around and drove back to take a few pictures of the Longhorns.  They were some impressive specimens of the breed and the one above was displaying an almost perfect classic set of horns.  I would bet they end up on someone's wall one of these days.  For now, though, they create a challenge for this old boy to move around among the trees.

This animal is carrying quite a bit of age to have horns of that size.  They also appear to have been trained.  Many raisers of Longhorn cattle will use horn weights to influence the growth pattern over time.  Completely natural growth can be a little more unpredictable with some turning down, or maybe they just aren't symmetrical.  The ones on this old steer are almost perfect.

When I think of Longhorns I see them in my mind on the trail up through the Plains where there isn't much in the way of natural obstacles for them to maneuver around except the occasional muddy river or, creek.  In this part of Texas, and down in the central and southern parts of the state where the trail drives originated, there was lots of brush, cactus, trees, rocks and other natural impediments to their travel.  They had to be constantly aware of the width of those ornaments in order to navigate effectively.  Yeah, it seems like a simple thing, but I hadn't really thought about it.

I find myself struggling through the woods and I'm not nearly as wide as those massive horns although I'm certainly wider than I once was.  I'm surprised he doesn't have a few tree branches hung on them that he likely tore off while passing through the brush.

I suppose this post isn't particularly deep, but sometimes I just need to record my meager thoughts in order to preserve them for the next time I forget.  Who knows, I might decide to plow into creating a novel about a cattle drive some day and need to recall this thought!  Well, maybe a short story is more likely.  Umm, a vignette?  I may have to be satisfied with this blog post that will perhaps aid some other writer who has more ambition.

I am happy we turned around.

A Chuckwagon and a Stew Contest

There are few things that draw attention faster than a chuckwagon.  This authentically restored wagon belongs to some good friends of ours who know how to make you feel you have stepped back in time to the cattle drives.  This weekend it is parked at the Hopkins County, Texas, world famous stew cook off.  This is the 50th anniversary of the event and our friends usually take home the Grand Prize.

The rig utilizes a large canvas "fly" that covers the food preparation area and provides room for some seating.  It is a cool and rainy year, so additional "drops" which create a wall along the north side were hung to keep the rain out.  Even the stakes for the fly are hand cut Bois d'arc reinforced with rawhide for extra strength.  The woven bottom chairs and wagon-slat tables are also authentic.

Ignore the plastic trash can and bag of charcoal and focus on the chuck box which has a foldout work table as well as storage boxes and trays.  On the table in the foreground, the box is full of handmade from Mesquite, wooden utensils, including ladles, spatulas, stirring paddles, serving spoons and scoops for flour and sugar.  The keg at bottom right contains the sourdough starter which is used for the bread which includes loaves as well as Dutch Oven biscuits.

Everything is cooked in cast iron.  The firebox is used to build a large bed of coals which are then placed on and under the Dutch Ovens and as a source of heat for the coffee pots and the cauldron of beans you see cooking.

The Dutch Ovens sit over a bed of hot coals and have additional coals on top to create even heating.  These contain potatoes and onions while others contain Beef Brisket and still others are used for Cobblers.

The contents of each oven are periodically checked to ascertain readiness.  Everything is timed to come out to perfection at just the right moment.

Although you can barely see it for the steam, this is one of the Briskets.

Here the brisket is being sliced for serving.  The potatoes and onions are in the foreground and in the top right corner is the cauldron of beans and pork sausage.

It's hard to beat the taste of properly prepared Brisket.  Notice the "bark" along one edge.

Here is a view of the steaming cauldron of beans and sausage.  There was quite a line ready to be served by the time the meal was ready.

Of course, the meal wouldn't be complete without Dewberry Cobbler made in the Dutch Ovens from locally picked wild Dewberries.

The only thing that might have made the meal any better would be some Blue Bell Ice Cream to go on top of the cobbler.  Although it is thoroughly Texan, it just wasn't around when the wagons followed the herds to market.

Chuckwagons weren't typically seen in this part of Texas back in the late 1800's, but this one adds a real sense of that period to the annual Stew event.  It's a lot of work, but it is a labor filled with joy and a love of the authentic cowboy lifestyle of long ago which is still practiced on many ranches in the western states.

A Little Trail History

The period just after the "War of Northern Aggression" was a tumultuous one.  The cattle of central and southern Texas had multiplied and gone wild while most of the adult male population was serving the Confederate cause in states far to the east.  Without fences, the animals had spread into the rugged Edwards Plateau region to the west of the primary settlements where ownership was questionable.  The opportunity to gather some of the unbranded stock and send it to northern and eastern markets allowed many entrepreneurial types to establish empires that last even today.

The National Road which connected the old, yet fast-growing village of San Antonio to the fledgling community of Dallas and further points, offered a guideline for herds heading north and east toward the railroads which were slowly making their way west across the plains after the war.  Missouri was the obvious choice and a few small bunches of cattle had been driven across The Territory by way of Fort Towson to Fort Smith, Arkansas, on the old Military Road and then up through Missouri as far as Saint Louis.

Because of the fear of Texas Fever, the good folks in Missouri soon refused to allow the Texas cattle into their state and a more direct route up the Shawnee Trail became the favored passage north. It connected to the National Road where it crossed the Red River north of Dallas and headed toward Fort Gibson and Baxter Springs before following the eastern edge of Kansas to the stockyards in Kansas City where eager buyers awaited.  It was 1865 before Jesse Chisholm, a long-time half-breed trader, established a wagon road from near the site of present-day Oklahoma City northward toward Council Grove and Fort Leavenworth in Kansas.

Much like the highways of today, the cattle were driven up various connecting trails that led in the general direction of their destination.  Those trails were a bit "fuzzy" because the routes varied slightly, depending on available grass and water.  Modern highways often follow the same general trails.  It is interesting to me to think about those cattle drives and the hazards they faced any time I travel those highways which I know followed their paths across the plains.

Time Travel

The trail is long,

The days are hot,

The dust chokes,

The sweat soaks,

The bugs bite,

Yet, there is delight

In thudding hoof

And cattle bawls

And clicking horns

And swishing tails

And drifting smells

Of the herd.

Big Tracks

No matter where you go in this old world, people have been there ahead of you.  I think that's why history appeals to me as much as it does -- I want to know what they saw before I got there.

Several times each year I pass through the small community of Saint Jo, Texas.  It lies on U.S. Highway 82 to the Northwest of Fort Worth.  It is one of those places that tend to slide right by as you travel by automobile across the country.  It was once a very important community.

It was founded in 1849 by Prince Singletary who entered the area in a fruitless search for gold.  He found it to be an ideal place to settle near the head of the Elm Fork of the Trinity River.  It grew in importance as various military expeditions crossing the area discovered it as an excellent camping spot.  Later, it was considered to be a crucial way point on the cattle drives as they headed north.  It was one of the last places to obtain supplies before heading across the Red River into Indian Territory.

Only in the imagination can you see signs of the old cattle trails.  The land forms suggest the likely path the cattle were driven on their long journey north.  Of course "the trail" wasn't what we might envision when we hear the word, it was spread out and varied somewhat in course depending on which herd was passing through.  The cattle had to forage for the grass as they walked, so each herd's path would diverge slightly in search of grazing.  The common points of convergence would be water sources and river crossings which constricted their flow to specific points.

Saint Jo is still in the heart of cattle country although it is not far from the thriving cities of Fort Worth and Dallas as well as smaller, but quickly growing communities in the surrounding area.  Some day it will likely be swallowed by suburbs that seem to expand in an endless quest for more land on which to build houses and industry.

I'm sure the citizens of Saint Jo would initially disagree, but there is value in preserving our heritage in places like this.  There is even greater value in conserving the precious resources that made this an important point on the early trails crossing the area.  At the head of an important watershed crossing the eastern portion of the state, it is critical that natural land forms and plant communities be maintained to protect quality for those downstream who are dependent upon it as a source of clean water.  The real issue however, isn't currently the land use around Saint Jo, it is the land use further downstream where urban and suburban development have engulfed the river and surrounding watershed with concrete and asphalt which causes frequent and severe flooding in the event of heavy rainfall.

The best solution to those issues is to ensure the land continues to be used for grazing which is the ideal way to maintain grasses and tree belts to mitigate rapid runoff and provide natural filters for water entering the system.  Saint Jo was important for the cowboys heading north because it provided relief and supplies from the trail.  It is important today because it is at the heart of a way of life that protects millions of people downstream.  The ranchers that come to the The Lazy Heart Grill or, the Stonewall Saloon seen in the photo above, probably aren't aware of how important their operations are to preserving the quality of life for the myriad people who live down state.

Drifting Mind, Drifting Herds

The period just after the Civil War is one of my favorite in American history.  It was a time of rapid westward expansion into the sparsely settled Plains and mountain fastnesses of the young and growing country.  It was the time of great herds moving northward from the brushy wildness of Texas to the nearest rail head.  Sometimes my mind thinks on what it would be like to be upon those great drives....

Tired from weeks upon the trail

The steers stood slowly.

Colorful hides contrasted with the green lushness

Of early Spring grasses

That drew them ever northward

To the markets that awaited

At the end of the trail.

Squeaking leather signaled

That the horsemen were mounting

For another day of monotonous,

Plodding steps upon the sod

As ever forward moved

This mobile feast toward the rails

Which would carry them eastward

To their demise

And resurection

As sustenance for the growing,

Thriving,

Westward advancing

Civilization.

Travel, Trails and Historical Perspective

This was a day of travel. We're talking 630 miles of travel from south of Amarillo, Texas, to Lincoln, Nebraska. After the break of a long weekend in the mountains, work called me back to reality.

Driving is my preferred mode of travel for my work. There are times when I fly, but most travel through the Plains is about as fast by automobile as it is by air because of multiple stops and then renting a car, etc. Besides, driving time is often productive time. I get a lot of thinking done across the miles.

As I travel I also think about the old trails that crossed the Plains. For the first leg of my trip, the highway followed the old Dodge City to Amarillo trail. Next, I picked up the old Western Trail south of Dodge City and crossed the creek where the cattle herds were held while awaiting their turn into the stockyards for shipment east. At Dodge City I began following the old Santa Fe Trail until turning up US 156 at Great Bend and heading to Ellsworth, Kansas, which was one of the famous "wild west" frontier towns. From there I headed east to Salina and then north toward Nebraska. I crossed a couple of branches of the old trails to the Colorado gold fields of the 1850's and then after entering into Nebraska, I crossed the Pony Express route and the old Overland Route from Independence, Missouri, that angled northwest to the Platte River.

When we think about the wild west we usually don't think about the fact that it started in Kansas. The Kansas cow towns were wild a woolly places until the railroads brought civilization. The Texas Panhandle wasn't settled until after 1876 when the last of the Comanche were driven to the reservations of Indian Territory (Oklahoma).

One of the things that intrigues me about the old trails is how they followed the features of the land. Water was critical, fords across the occasional rivers were important, wood or other fuel for fires was needed, natural features that allowed easy travel for wagons was desired. Campsites were determined by speed of travel as well as by location of water and fuel. Many of the towns of today which dot the Plains, originated with the campsites. That is one reason the space between towns is often somewhat uniform. The distance was determined by the daily travel of an ox drawn wagon. It wasn't really until the advent of the Interstate Highway system that we began to get away from the old trails that crossed the country. Even those roughly follow the old trails. A perfect example is Interstate 80 across Nebraska. It follows the same route as the great westward migration to Oregon and California.

The next time you're traveling across the country, think about why those roads are located where they are and why the towns grew up in their particular locations. It might put a whole new slant on your perspective of history.

A Look at Longhorns

I have been re-reading “The Longhorns” by J. Frank Dobie. Being something of a history buff, especially history that relates to Texas and even more particularly, that relates to the Panhandle region, I have really enjoyed getting reacquainted with this classic work.

When we look at the cattle that cover the plains today, what we see is a far cry from the tough-hided, multi-colored Longhorns of legend. We see fine-haired cattle with rarely a stubby set of horns that is descended from British breeds that were first brought to this country to “upgrade” the breed that could be considered the first in Texas.

Considering Longhorns a breed is probably not especially accurate. There was little uniformity in the original Longhorn cattle that developed in the brush country of central and southern Texas. They were descendants of Mexican corriente and crillo cattle that escaped the first ranchers to venture into the wilds of Texas. But that wasn’t all of the blood that flowed through their veins. Oxen that transported the first Anglo inhabitants from the fledgling ports of the 1830’s often escaped to run wild in the brush and add their genetic diversity to what came to be called the Longhorn. Along with the oxen, Old Bossy, the family milk cow added her characteristics as well.

Longhorns were a product of survival. It took horns to fight off wolves and bears which inhabited the brush country in those early days. It also took fleetness and a sort of natural cunning that enabled the Longhorns, in country beset by cactus, drought, and thickets of thorny shrubs that rabbits could hardly penetrate, to survive.

During the period between establishing the first colonies in Texas until after the Civil War, the wild cattle of Texas were rarely bothered. They were commonly hunted like deer for table beef or for their hides. The hides were generally used as rawhide to make many common items that early settlers were unable to obtain by other means.

During the Civil War, a number of these wild South Texas cattle were trailed north and east to help meet the needs of the Confederacy for beef. It was not until after the war was over and thousands of former soldiers and displaced people headed west to make their fortunes that the Longhorns were seen as a potential treasure.

Beginning in the late 1860’s, the cattle were trapped and gathered into herds to make the trail north or east to railroads where they could be shipped to slaughter houses to meet the growing demand for beef. Those cattle trails really weren’t trails at all. They were marked by general way points where good water could be found. The trails were constantly shifting westward as the prairies became tamed and settlers ventured into lands previously under the control of the Indians.

The first Longhorns to trail into the Texas Panhandle arrived compliments of Charlie Goodnight in 1876. The Goodnight cattle came from the brush country of the Nueces River in South Texas. The cattle likely came west on the Goodnight-Loving trail which headed up the middle branch of the Concho River before heading across country to Horsehead Crossing on the Pecos. Goodnight supplied cattle to John Chisum at Bosque Redondo in New Mexico as well as to a few other hardy ranchers that were able to hold onto large chunks of range by negotiating, sometimes with lead, an uneasy truce with the Apache and Comanche Indians that still ruled. He also supplied beef that ended up at some of the far-flung outposts of the U.S. Cavalry. Ultimately Goodnight decided to establish a ranch on the upper Arkansas River in Colorado. Some of his first stock was purchased from John Chisum and trailed up the Pecos and then cross-country into Colorado.

In 1876, Goodnight decided to pull up stakes in Colorado and move into the newly “tamed” country of the Texas Panhandle. The natural features of Palo Duro Canyon made it easy to hold his Longhorns. It also provided good grass along the banks of the creek and in the various side canyons that fed into it. The high walls provided shelter from the storms that swooped down from the north. Ranching had come to the Panhandle.

Close on his heels came other ranchers and efforts to upgrade the stock from the wild critter that was built for running and for fighting wolves into the tame creature that we see today. The Texas Longhorns helped to tame the land that no longer needed their survival characteristics.

Trails and Travel

Historic trails have always interested me. As a child, when we crossed the Chisholm Trail, I expected to see a well-worn and clearly defined path. It was many years before I realized that virtually all traces of the trail had been plowed under, or grown over for years.

This morning I awoke in North Platte, Nebraska. North Platte lies on the great westward immigrant routes of the Oregon Trail, the California Trail, the Mormon Trail, The Pony Express Trail, and the first trans-continental railroad. It also lies not far east of one of the more important cattle trails -- the Texas and Ogalalla Trail, aka Texas and Montana Trail, aka Dodge City and Montana Trail (the one they supposedly followed in "Lonesome Dove"). Today as I travelled south from Nebraska, I basically followed the route of this important cattle trail of the late 1800's.

It is approximately 270 miles from North Platte to Dodge City. I took the most direct route, which is also one of the least travelled routes. South of Oberlin, KS, I took Kansas Highway 23 south into Cimarron, KS, (which lies on the old Santa Fe Trail and is basically where the Cimarron Cutoff branched from the main trail) and then into Dodge City from the west. Of course, Dodge City lies on the Santa Fe Trail and was one of the most important delivery points for cattle moving north from Texas on the Western Trail.

Dodge City was important for the Texas Panhandle in its formative years. The buffalo hunters that eventually wiped out the great herds that roamed the Southern Plains used Dodge City as their outfitting and "jumping off" point. It was the place they brought the hides from the slaughtered buffalo for shipment east. It was also the place to which the bleached bones of the buffalo were delivered some years later for eventual grinding into fertilizer.

When settlers began moving into the Texas Panhandle, many of them arrived first in Dodge City to purchase wagons and supplies for the trip south. For several years, it was the "jumping off" point to the frontier that until 1876 had been the home to the Kiowa and Comanche tribes.

It is interesting to me how few people I saw on the highway as I headed south toward Dodge City. I passed through several small towns, including Gove, KS, the county seat of Gove County, with a population of only 105 people. There were many highway stretches of over 10 miles in which I did not meet another vehicle.

Much of the land that I passed through is in grassland with cattle grazing on it. The early spring rains have been good and the grass is beginning to green. The few areas that were in cultivation had beautiful stands of winter wheat that are nearing the stage when they will shoot up the head of grain. It is beautiful country to one with a Plainsman's eye. I suppose to most people it would be considered pretty barren. I for one, relish the emptiness. I need my space.