Wild Sports in the Far West

by Friedrich Gerstäcker

S. having sold most of his cattle, decided on parting with this farm, and removing to Oiltrove bottom. Our contract having been dissolved by Uhl’s departure and my frequent sickness, was no longer to be thought of. Preparations were made for moving; S. had been already to White river and made his purchase. When about to start, we found that two more oxen were necessary: we had four, but the load was too heavy with such soft boggy roads. So we rode into the woods, and drove a couple of wild bulls into the inclosure, threw nooses over their horns, and fastened them to trees. They made tremendous efforts to free themselves, jerking the leather thongs with all their force; and when they found all their struggles were in vain, they threw themselves on the ground and bellowed with rage. Thus they remained all the day and night, during which we gave them nothing but a little water to quench their thirst. About nine o’clock next morning they were yoked each with a steady old hand; the whips cracked, voices shouted, and partly from the shower of blows that fell on them, partly dragged along by their stout companions, after four or five hours’ useless opposition, they went as well as if they had done nothing all their lives but draw a cart.

The heavy wagon made slow progress along the muddy tracts, softened by the autumnal rains. We arrived at White river on the morning of the 4th November, and had to wait on the bank till evening, as it was blowing a storm, and it would have been dangerous to trust the heavy wagon to the ferry-boat in such weather.

White river is beyond all dispute the most beautiful river of Arkansas. Its clear waves form a striking contrast to those of the Mississippi and Red river; only towards its mouth the banks are low, and the land swampy; higher up it is enclosed by picturesque hills. It rises in the Ozark mountains, in the north-west angle of the State, where there is game in abundance; it divides into two arms, one of which falls into the Mississippi, and the other into the Arkansas.

As the wind fell, the dry cold air changed into a damp fog, which soon turned to rain, and we were glad to find shelter under the roof of a free negro, who kept a sort of tavern. Merry peals of laughter resounded from the well-lighted room, where a bright fire was blazing, and very comfortable did its warmth appear to us after our exposure to the weather. Three jovial looking fellows were sitting round it, telling stories, and roaring with laughter. Three long American rifles, with their shot-belts hanging on them, leaning in a corner, showed that the party, if not regular woodsmen, were at least out on a shooting excursion. A half empty whiskey-bottle stood on the table, and after a short conversation, I learnt that the little fat man, with sparkling eyes and ruby nose, sitting enjoying himself in the corner, and making constant love to the whiskey-bottle, was Magnus the distiller, who, with a couple of friends, was on his way to the swamps from whence we came, for the sake of buffalo hunting. The little man drank my health, and amused me very much with his drolleries. He could think of nothing but buffaloes, swore only by buffaloes, made bets in buffalo-skins, estimated every thing by their value, and tormented the small modicum of understanding which the whiskey had left in his brains, to devise how he should be able to transport at the greatest advantage the skins of all the buffaloes he meant to kill.

It was all in vain that I attempted to give him an idea of the almost impenetrable swamps, of the difficulty of finding the few buffaloes which were there, and of the almost impossibility when found of bringing their skins or any other part away; his countenance bore the same joyous, amicable expression as before. When I had finished my remarks, he handed me the bottle, which I put to my lips without drinking. In a voice trembling with emotion, he assured me that he was prepared to venture every thing, even life itself, for the sake of killing a buffalo, and when life was at stake, who could take into consideration a few insignificant swamp-holes or thorns! And then, as it struck him that he was a father of a family, his voice became weaker and more tremulous, his emotion increased, a flood of tears gushed from his eyes, and before I was aware, the little round figure was hanging to my neck. The heavy weight forced from me a sigh, which he took for sympathy, and he began to squeeze so hard that I was afraid I should be suffocated, when his two friends, who had been more moderate with the bottle, sprang to my rescue. But this was no easy matter, and as he clung to me he cried out, “Let me alone! he’s my friend—he, he will save me!” I escaped from him by a sudden wrench, and his companions carried him off to bed, he all the while throwing about his little fat arms and legs, and calling them good-for-nothing buffalo dogs. Then he again began to whine and cry, the sounds changing gradually, first into a groan and then into a snore.

We arrived at the new farm about noon next day, and found the former proprietors loading their wagon. They took their leave in the afternoon, and left as a memorial an incredible quantity of dirt. As soon as our wagon was cleared, and the things under cover, S. returned with the two drivers for another load, leaving me in the house alone. It was in the midst of a thick forest, with a field of about seven acres, surrounded by the largest trees. But I had not much time to contemplate the beauties of Nature, for in unloading and stowing away, the hours had flown on the wings of the wind. The sun had set before I had collected wood from the forest to keep up a fire for the night, or had had time to prepare my supper; the latter duty did not take long, for my whole store of provisions consisted of maize flour, dried venison, and wild honey.

Darkness, thick darkness, lay upon the slumbering earth: yielding up my imagination to memorials of old times, I drew the solitary chair to the blazing fire, took out my zither, and with soft mournful tones, soothed the home-sickness, which in loneliness forces itself on the heart. After a time, overcome by fatigue, I extended myself on my buffalo skin before the fire, and soon a succession of fantastic dreams flitted across my brain. The little fat distiller sat with me and mine in a garden at Leipzig, relating all the hardships and dangers which he had undergone at the buffalo hunt, while my dear mother listened to him with astonishment: many other loved forms were sitting round a large table, each with their coffee before them, when we were all disturbed by a loud knocking at the gate, and started up to see what was the matter, except the little distiller, who laughingly told us it was only a tame buffalo that he had tied up at the gate. The knocking growing louder and louder, I jumped up in alarm: the fire was burnt out, thick darkness surrounded me, but the repeated loud knocking shook off the remains of sleep, and I hastened to the door.

One of the drivers who had left the day before, stepped into the room, his teeth chattering with ague. I made haste to light the fire, which soon burnt up brightly, and then looked to my patient, who had sunk down on a chair, telling me with a weak voice that his last hour was come. Luckily, I had some coffee at hand, and made him drink a couple of cups as hot as possible, sweetened with honey. He then threw himself on the skin and was soon asleep. Next day he was somewhat better, and we passed the time as well as we could, till S. should come with his second load. I employed myself in collecting wood for the fire, and in shooting turkeys, to make our provisions last. After a week, during the last days of which we had lived on turkeys and pumpkins, taking the latter, which were very sweet and delicate, from the field of a neighbor at no great distance, S. arrived with the rest of his property, cows, horses, pigs, geese, cats, chickens, and dogs. Then there was all the bustle of arranging and settling, and then another attack of ague, which seemed regularly to have fixed itself on me in this unhealthy country. I bore up against it, but was not well enough to mount a horse till the 20th November, when I took a ride of four or five miles with my rifle, for a breath of fresh air.

These swamps and morasses partly realize the idea which Europeans entertain of the primitive forest, but in which they are frequently deceived, for the simple reason, that on the higher dry grounds which are covered with dry leaves and wood, fires are often made, not only by shooting parties, but by the settlers, for the sake of the grass, which comes up all the sooner when all these enormous quantities of leaves, &c., have been burnt; and the fire does not consume the young plants only, but considerably checks the growth of the older trees, excepting in the marshes, where the ground even in summer is moist; and there the trees grow to a colossal grandeur—I have seen some measuring seven, eight, and even nine feet in diameter.

Towards evening I saw a young buck, walking quietly and circumspectly through the wood; I dismounted, and left the horse to graze at leisure, while I crept nearer. He stopped when he saw the horse pawing the ground, raised his handsome head, and snuffed the air; my ball whistled through his ribs, and he fell lifeless to the ground. Weak as I was, it was some time before I could lift the not very large animal on to the horse, when I rode slowly homewards. Just before dark, I shot a turkey with the other barrel, and did not load again, not expecting to get another shot so late in the evening. The full moon set its soft silvery light among the dark shadows of the trees, to point out my path. I might have ridden for about an hour and a half through the thick forest on my heavily laden horse, and had gained a cattle track, which led to the house; the stillness of the night was broken by the cow-bells, the baying of the dogs and the neigh of my horse, in expectation of a good supper, when there was a sudden rustling among the bushes on my right. I pulled up, and a herd of swine rushed in wild haste across the path, just in front of me. I was about to ride on, when I heard further rustling amongst the dry leaves, and then one of the largest bears of the swamps stood in the path, not above six paces from my horse’s nose. He did not seem to know what to make of the figure looming through the glade of the forest by the light of the moon, and began to snuff the air. My rifle was not loaded, and the thought flashed upon me, that I should have to fight it out with the knife; but I resolved first to try and send him a bit of lead. I placed the butt of my gun on my left toe, and succeeded in loading; but, as I was about to place the copper cap, the horse, who had hitherto stood quite still, seemed inclined to examine the object before him a little closer, and giving a snort he made a step forward. Master Bruin, however, did not seem to like this, and with one bound he was in the jungle. Having finished my loading, I slipped off my horse, and crept into the bushes to get a shot, if possible. I may have gone about twenty paces over the dry leaves, when I stood still to listen. Not the slightest sound was to be heard; though I was firmly convinced that the bear could not be above ten paces off, for the leaves were so dry that if he had gone further I must have heard it. I raised my foot gently to make another step forward, when the bear, who had been standing so motionless before me that I took him for the root of a fallen tree, almost brushed my face, and took himself off with a growl; before I could recover from my surprise he had disappeared.