The Prairie Schooner

by William Francis Hooker

Before railroads were built in the country west of the Missouri River there was, nevertheless, considerable doing in the transportation line. And even after the Union Pacific was built from Omaha to Ogden to connect with the Central Pacific, which carried the rails to the Golden Gate, most of the transportation of the then great Wild West, in the mountains, on the plains and the "Great American Desert," was done by ox-teams. These were run in trains of from ten to fifty or sixty teams, the teams consisting usually of from five to seven yokes of oxen and lead and trail wagons built for the purpose.

These wagons were called prairie schooners, because they were supplied with canvas coverings. The first of these, made in St. Louis, were called "Murphys," and were provided with iron axles. Later many of them were made in Indianapolis, Chicago, and Kenosha, Wis., the latter known as the Bain. The Schuttler and the Bain wagons were almost as big and substantial as a box car and were well painted and put together to stand hard knocks on mountain "breaknecks" or in Bad Land sands.

The lead wagon would carry an average of 6,500 pounds, while the trailer—fastened to the lead by a short tongue—had a capacity of perhaps two tons. In a sandy place or on a mountain road, the bullwhacker (teamster) would slacken his team, pull a coupling pin from an iron half-circle arrangement on the axle of his lead wagon, drop his trailer to one side of the road and proceed to the top of the hill, if in the mountains, or to an "island" of hard ground in the desert, unhook his wheelers and go back for the trailer. Sometimes a "bull outfit" would spend a whole day doing this. Lead wagons were parked one at a time and the trailers brought on later and hooked up. These parkings were in the shape of an oval, called a corral, a narrow opening being left only at each end.

Inside this corral, when it came time to yoke up, the cattle were driven in by the herders, if the camp had been for over night or a long mid-day stop. Then the bullwhackers, carrying the heavy piñon yokes over their left shoulders, hickory bows in their right hands and iron or wooden pins with leather strip fastened to them in their mouths, would seek out their teams, yoking them together and leading them to their wagons.

When a "whacker" had his "wheelers," or pole oxen, in place, he would bring on his "pointers," and the rest, including the leaders. The wheelers were always the heavyweights, old and trained, and able to hold back the load or their unruly teammates until the whackers could throw on a brake or "rough lock," the last named a log chain fastened at one end to the wagon, thrown through the wheel spokes in such a way as to be between the ground and the wheel on the "near rear hind wheel" of the lead wagon.

New cattle just being trained to yoke were always put in the center of the team, where they were easily managed with the assistance of the "leaders," which were always light weights and most always long-horns from Texas—long horns, long legs and bodies, thin as a razorback hog. These leaders were always the best broken oxen, and would respond to the low-spoken word of "haw" or "gee," especially if the word were uttered in the peculiar musical tone of the whacker which cannot be described in print, not only because it is impossible to convey sound in that manner but because the language that goes with the music—the request to gee or haw—would not be pleasant reading. Alone, the leaders would trot like horses.

The average person outside of Texas and the southwest and some of the western states has a mental picture, perhaps, of the Texas steer of the long-horn variety. Those who lived thirty or forty years ago, even in the East, remember him as a member of the quadruped family consisting largely of horn, for it was not an infrequent thing to see him in a cattle car on a sidetrack. He was, as a matter of fact, also entitled to a reputation for his legs, for they were unusually long. His body, too, was slim, and he never was fat for the reason that while free to roam the ranges at will he devoted most of his time to using his horns in goring his mates and neglected to eat. He raced about from place to place, whereas, if he had no horns he would have been a peaceful animal and consequently much more valuable for the market.

The old-time Texas steer often was as fleet-footed as a Kentucky racehorse of the thoroughbred variety, and it took a good horse to catch him when he made up his mind to run.

Nevertheless, thousands of these Texas steers were broken to yoke, and used in overland transportation; and once broken they were good workers, even though their horns were always in the way, and the cause of a great deal of trouble in a herd.

While I have no authority for the statement, I believe practical dehorning began with the bullwhackers of the plains, for they frequently bored holes in the horns which in a few weeks caused the horns to drop off. Then it was noted that if the dehorned cattle were kept separate from those with horns, the dehorned ones, even when working hard every day, took on flesh and were better workers. Finally nearly all the work-oxen were dehorned, and they were as meek and quiet as lambs.