Wild Sports in the Far West

by Friedrich Gerstäcker

Our American friend, Jim by name, was very much afraid of snakes, which abounded in this neighborhood. He could not rest quiet, and repeated a number of stories of this person or that having been bitten by snakes in the night. I let him talk on, while I made preparations to go to sleep.

Half asleep, I still heard the snake stories, till, overpowered by fatigue, Morpheus took me softly in his arms; but there were snakes hanging about me, and some of them grew to an immense size, till at last it seemed as if a very wicked-looking one came straight towards me, crawled under my left knee, and there coiled himself down—yet he kept fidgeting as if he could not make himself quite comfortable. I awoke, and lay for a moment quite still; Jim was yet telling his snake stories to Uhl, who was listening attentively, when I positively felt something move under my knee, and hearing of nothing else, thinking of nothing else, of course I supposed it must be a snake. I dared not raise myself slowly for fear of pressing on the snake, when he would certainly have bitten me. I sprang up as quickly as I could, and at once burst away from my couch: my two comrades, with their brains full of all sorts of monsters, no sooner saw me start up so suddenly, than they followed my example, as if they had been fired from a gun, and we looked at each other in dismay.

I examined the place where I supposed the snake to be, and found a little twig of about eight or nine inches growing out of the ground, and which had been under my knee. We all laughed heartily at our fright, and were soon fast asleep.

Our appetites next morning were very sharp. In the course of a couple of hours Jim shot a squirrel, which afforded but a meagre breakfast for three people. After breakfast we tried again, and with better success on my part, for, happening to espy a deer in the jungle, I knocked him over, and we returned to S.’s well laden with venison. Although we had found several spots suitable for our tent, we had not fixed on any one in particular, and we were well pleased with the place altogether, notwithstanding snakes and mosquitoes.

Hitherto we had always eaten maize bread, because, although S. could grind wheat, he had no means of bolting it; and as it was stacked in the field he decided on sending it to a mill about fifteen miles distant. The wheat was in sheaves, but there was neither barn nor thrashing floor, neither flail nor winnowing machine, nothing to clean it from the straw; however, we set to work Arkansas fashion. The weather was bright and dry, the road before the door as hard as a stone, but dusty: a space about thirty feet in diameter was fenced in, and swept as clean as possible; the sheaves were unbound and laid in a circle, every two sheaves with their ears together, one with the straw to the centre, the other with the straw outwards; six horses were mounted, and ridden round and round, while two men kept shaking down fresh corn; when it had been well trodden out, it had to be sifted.

I had probably worked rather too hard, caught another attack of ague, and was obliged to lie down till evening, when I felt somewhat better. This evening we were visited by a friend of S.’s, or neighbor, as he called himself, though living at a distance of twenty-five miles; but there was neither house nor road between the two. He was called Jim Bahrens, but S. whispered to me that he was nicknamed “lying Bahrens,” and indeed Munchausen would have been obliged to hide his face before him. He was very talkative and amusing; amongst other things, he told us that he had but a small tract of land, but that it was the best and most fertile in the whole world; that he could grow every thing on it, except corn beans (the common garden bean), because the corn grows so fast, that it drags the beans out of the earth. He invited us to come and see him, telling us that he could kill as much game in a day as would weigh 1000 pounds for that he lived among large herds both of buffaloes and deer. We promised to come, and see all these wonders.

On the 1st of August, Uhl told me that he wished to go, being tired of this sort of life; and, indeed, I must allow that I myself was rather sick of it. I was so weak that I could hardly crawl, and saw so many sickly faces around me, that I could not try to persuade him to remain. We divided our property, for hitherto we had had all things in common, and on the same day he marched off to the west. I had no time to indulge in sorrowful thoughts, for the ague attacked me again; having brought some medicine with me from Cincinnati, I took an emetic, and then a dose of quinine, which succeeded in subduing it.

On August 3rd, I felt better, and decided in the afternoon on driving to the mill; but the grain had first to be cleaned. This, without a machine, was rather a difficult matter, but the sharp Americans know how to manage it. Two of the stoutest fellows hold a blanket by the four corners; a third stands on a chair with a sieve full of grain, which he shakes, not too fast, nor too long at a time, while the two with the blanket make as much wind as they can, by working it up and down; the chaff is blown away, while the wheat falls to the ground, and is at once gathered into the sack, though not quite so clean as it would be with our system.

By two o’clock we were able to start, the cart being drawn by oxen, and, owing to their slow discreet pace, it was pitch dark when we arrived at the mill. At so late an hour grinding was out of the question; we lighted our fire, broiled our supper, and laid down in the wagon to sleep till daylight. But the night was so beautiful, the stars shining so mildly down upon us, the wind blowing so soft and warm through the green branches, that we could not sleep, but went on talking. Both my companions were Americans, one of them a strict Methodist, and there was nothing more natural than that we should talk of the stars, then of heaven, then of religion; and as we entertained very different views, our conversation degenerated into a hot dispute, which was put an end to about midnight by a heavy shower of rain, that forced us to seek shelter for ourselves and our sacks.

Next day we began to grind, and slow work it was, for we had to turn the mill with our own oxen, who had no idea of inconveniencing themselves; however, we managed to reach home the same night. The season was now far enough advanced for the leaves of Indian corn to be stripped and laid up as fodder for the winter. This plant, in the southern States, will grow to a height of eleven or twelve feet, and often bears three cobs: the white sort is the best for bread, the yellow, containing more sugar, is best for fodder and for whiskey.