PORTRAIT OF A TRAPPER BRIGADE
The character of the barbarian elements that encircled the Yellowstone
area has been given. Their position was sufficiently menacing to prevent
penetration of the continental crown except by a chosen few. The
relation of the trapper's activity to the Park can only be appreciated
by an examination of the subject himself.
The Rocky Mountain fur trappers were a distinct group. They were just as
singular in dress, interests, skills, and general characteristics as the
cowboys and miners who succeeded them. When was their genesis and
exodus? It falls entirely within the scope of nineteenth century
history. Hence, the record is clear; it has few legendary figures.
However, a generalized characterization would seem appropriate. Their
predecessors were the earlier explorers of several nations, French,
Spanish, English, with a sprinkling of other races. All of these
elements pressed ever westward, chained by neither time nor distance. In
their migrations from Kentucky to the River of the West (Missouri)
excitement had become as necessary as life itself; adventure, as the
breath of their nostrils. Until 1810 those woodsmen found hunting and
trapping on the plains sufficiently challenging, but after the return of
Lewis and Clark they donned buckskin suits and moved into the Rockies.
From these shining mountains they were not to emerge until they learned
by heart the geography upon the sundown side of the wide Missouri.
The French couriers of the woods were best endowed by nature for this
roving life. Their easygoing temperament inclined them toward song and
laughter. Their courage and gallantry adorned the barren path of life
with the varied hues of their mercurial spirits. They never failed to
adjust to the circumstances at hand, and the speculative character of
enterprise could not wear them down. The Englishman had the necessary
foresight and tenacity to effect such an organization and procedure as
best calculated to bring adequate financial returns.
[Illustration: Beaver at Work.]
However, the supreme mountain scouts were of American vintage. The best
in the west were cool, longheaded, deadly-shooting backwoodsmen from
Kentucky and Virginia. They had what it took to deal with Indian
treachery, wild beasts, and constant danger in a thousand forms. The fur
business demanded men of great force and energy. Hence, the successful
trappers were hard-working, hard-fighting men inured to hardship and
exposure. Their vanity was in fast riding, straight shooting, prowess in
trapping and trailing, and enduring privation without wincing. However,
most of them were capable of complete relaxation in the fashion of
drinking and gambling. In fact, they were "white Injuns" and proud of
the same class of achievements. The tides of trapper fortune were
capricious. One year they rolled with promise; the next were empty as a
beach. The competition was always keen, and they were ever on the move.
"Old Roustabout," "Perpetual Motion," "Never Quit," and "Knock 'Em Stiff
Hawkeye" were current nicknames in the Order. Some of them became
veritable walking maps possessed of uncanny perception of distance,
condition, and landmarks. All this knowledge was susceptible to sudden
erasure by one deft blow of a tomahawk. Surely every trapper fully
understood the meaning of the old Hudson Bay Company motto, "A skin for
a skin."
The passing of time, together with kindly, indiscriminate sentimentality
toward the lore of the Old West, has enveloped all of her
buckskin-fringed denizens in an enchanting blanket of romance. Legend
endows them with a uniform mantle of heroism and self-sacrifice. No
great effort ought to be made to drag frontiersmen from these generous
folds of fiction, because such a course might evoke the other extreme of
shouting "Ichabod." However, a correct comprehension of reality should
be the intelligent observer's constant aim.
Tramping this western wilderness was hardy-man's-pie, and one may search
in vain for "cream puffs" in the trapper fraternity. Among this advance
guard of the human flood were turbulent spirits. Surely persons of the
wild and reckless type have their place in pioneering the way for the
more conforming populace. Although they were generally of a kindred
spirit, no company personnel ever conformed to a particular type.
Indeed, a more heterogeneous assemblage could not be imagined. Some were
cross-grained and lazy; some, young or superannuated; others, half-breed
and faithless--a real challenge to the leadership of their employer. In
time the ordinary men were weeded out, but those remaining were still as
diverse as humans could be.
However, it was not as conscious agents of civilization that these
rowdies entered the west. They reacted to the eternal impulse of
personal curiosity and profit. For such ends they willingly perambulated
the dreariest wastes, always at home, living from meal to meal, from day
to day. Chance and danger were their daily lot and they gained the rare
capacity to accept whatever came with good graces. Pleasant experiences
produced rollicking good humor; hardships and trying scenes were soon
forgotten. They became absolutely fearless, for destruction stalked them
on every side in the form of famine, blizzard, wild beasts, and wilder
savages. Death was a constant threat, but its grimaces only tended to
develop men of nerve and hardihood who delighted in reckless feats. The
trapper's universal insensibility to danger proves that the human mind,
habituated to constant risk, becomes callous like the body subjected to
exposure. There was the hazard of perishing from hunger and thirst, of
being cut off by war parties of the Sioux who scoured the plains, of
having their horses stolen by Absarokas who infested the skirts of the
mountains, or of being butchered by the Blackfeet who lurked among the
defiles.
Trapping did not require literacy, but skill was indispensable to
success. The trapper had his A-B-C's to master. Any neglect of these
lessons was at his peril. They were fur, meat, and danger. Signs of
beaver, buffalo, and Indians must be read with the utmost accuracy. How
did he perfect his craft?
Beginning with the objects about him, the trapper observed everything
minutely. He learned to read the meaning of a turned leaf, a broken
twig, and the behavior of domestic and wild animals. He achieved an
intimate association with nature, and she talked to him. Not only did he
form indelible impressions of topography by discerning senses, but he
talked about them around the campfire. Each trapper learned from the
others. One referred to this process as the Rocky Mountain college
course.
[Illustration: W. S. Chapman
Part of a Trapper Brigade.]
By reason of such apprenticeship frontiersmen were able to differentiate
buffalo and grizzlies at astonishing distances. They read the clouds,
understood bird flights, and sensed ambuscades. Practiced eyes, ears,
and noses enabled them to classify Indians as to tribe, place, and even
intent. They could converse with the representatives of many different
nations and tribes. A smattering of French, Spanish, and several Indian
languages--supplemented by signs--made conversation possible under all
circumstances.
The trapper was not always at liberty. There were organization
responsibilities. The fur brigade was under strict discipline. A junior
partner in the company was usually in charge, and he was the law. There
was a semi-military set of regulations regarding division of work; guard
duty was rigorously enforced; efficient service and prompt obedience
were required of every trapper.
Sometimes terrific exertion was involved in reaching a given trapping
ground at the most opportune time. Upon one occasion Alexander Ross
fairly forced his caravan to cleave a road through a snowbound pass.
Said he:
Making this road through the snow (seven feet deep) took the united
labour of fifty men and 240 horses, with all the other available means
within our power, for twenty-one days. It must be allowed to have been
an arduous undertaking, with such a medley of people and so difficult
to manage; and more so, when it takes into consideration that our
supper at night depended on the good or bad luck of our hunters during
the day. To their exertions and perseverance, indeed, no small merit
was due.[77]
Such a time of travail was enough to elicit an occasional prayer from
these sons of the wild. Men of few words, they could say what was needed
in simple eloquence:
Oh, God, may it please Thee, in Thy divine providence, to still guide
and protect us through this wilderness of doubt and fear, as Thou hast
done heretofore, and be with us in the hour of danger and difficulty
as all praise is due to Thee and not to man. Oh, do not forsake us,
Lord, but be with us and direct us through.[78]
One of the greatest among trappers was brigade leader Jedediah Smith,
sometimes called "The Knight in Buckskin." Carrying a Bible and a rifle,
he was equally proficient with each and had complete reliance upon both.
Mr. Ross has left a fine description of trapping routine:
A safe and secure spot, near wood and water, is first selected for the
camp. Here the chief of the party resides with the property. It is
often exposed to danger, or sudden attack, in the absence of the
trappers, and requires a vigilant eye to guard against the lurking
savages. The camp is called headquarters. From hence all the trappers,
some on foot, some on horseback, according to the distance they have
to go, start every morning, in small parties, in all directions,
ranging the distance of some twenty miles around. Six traps is the
allowance for each trapper; but to guard against wear and tear, the
complement is more frequently ten. These he sets every night, and
visits again in the morning; sometimes oftener, according to distance,
or other circumstances. The beaver taken in the traps are always
conveyed to the camp, skinned, stretched, dried, folded up with the
hair in the inside, laid by, and the flesh used for food. No sooner,
therefore, has a hunter visited his traps, set them again and looked
out for some other place, than he returns to the camp to feast and
enjoy the pleasures of an idle day....[79]
In this account there is an element of suppressed excitement and danger.
Taking game is invariably a thrilling experience. Besides that, the
covetous savages were frequently so menacing as to require almost
constant vigil along the trap line. Trapper camps remained stationary
only so long as two-thirds of the men were getting satisfactory results.
Setting beaver traps involved keen judgment, a deft touch, and precise
arrangement. Indeed, it was a considerable art. Joe Meek left an
accurate picture of his technique:
He has an ordinary steel trap weighing five pounds, attached to a
chain five feet long, with a swivel and ring at the end, which plays
round what is called the float, a dry stick of wood about six feet
long. The trapper wades out into the stream, which is shallow, and
cuts with his knife a bed for his trap, five or six inches under
water. He then takes the float out the whole length of the chain in
the direction of the center of the stream, and drives it in, so fast
that the beaver cannot draw it out; at the same time tying the other
end by a thong to the bank. A small stick or twig, dipped in musk or
castor (found in certain glands of the beaver) served for bait, and is
placed so as to hang directly above the trap, which is now set. The
trapper then throws water plentifully over the adjacent bank to
conceal any footprints or scent by which the beaver would be alarmed,
and, going to some distance, wades out of the stream. In setting a
trap, certain things are to be observed with care; first, that the
trap is firmly fixed, and at proper distance from the bank--for if the
beaver can get on shore with the trap, he will cut off his foot to
escape; second, that the float is of dry wood, for should it not be,
the animal will cut it off at a stroke, and swimming with the trap to
the middle of the dam, be drowned by its weight. In the latter case,
when the hunter visits his trap in the morning, he is under the
necessity of plunging into the water and swimming out, to dive for his
game. Should the morning be frosty and chilly, as it very frequently
is in the mountains, diving for traps is not a pleasant exercise. In
placing the bait, care must be taken to fix it just where the beaver,
in reaching it, will spring the trap. If the bait stick be placed
high, the hind foot of the beaver will be caught, if low, the
forefoot.[80]
Each trapper had two horses, one to ride and one to carry his trapping
equipment and furs. Sometimes good fortune yielded a fur harvest that
exceeded the trapper's carrying capacity. In that case he employed a
device called a cache. A dry spot of earth on an incline was selected,
well-camouflaged from Indian view. A hole large enough for a man to
crawl into was then dug. As depth was attained it was widened to the
desired proportions. Furs well wrapped would keep indefinitely in a
properly constructed cache.
Essentials in the trapper's equipment were a bowie knife, ammunition, a
hatchet, a revolver, and a rifle. The trapper's powder horn and bullet
pouch, with flint and steel and other "fixins," were thrown over his
left shoulder. These articles were his constant companions, ever ready
for action.
[Illustration: W. S. Chapman
Gun and Powder horn.]
Wearing apparel was pretty much standardized--a five-piece suit of
buckskin, including smoked skin moccasins which would not shrink from
the frequent wettings incident to the trapping season. The pants, shirt,
long coat, and hat were made of the same material. Fringes at the seams
gave a dash of ornamentation and hastened drying. Clothing was mostly
"homemade" during the wintertime.
These accouterments were not only durable, but they were comfortable as
well, and they were pleasant to the eye. That the latter item was a
desideratum there can be no doubt. Indian maidens were fair to behold,
and after all the trapper was human.
This phase of the trapper's life was cogently summarized by one
observer:
From all that I hear I conclude that in the palmy days of the fur
trade, the bands of white trappers in the West were little more than
bands of white Indians, having their Indian wives, and all the
paraphernalia of Indian life, moving from place to place, as the
beaver became scarce, and subsisting like the Indians upon the
products of the country.[81]
Squaw men were both numerous and respected. Lisa, Bridger, Provot,
Ogden, Meek, Carson, Rose, McKenzie, and Beckwourth were wise and
judicious men. They well knew the utility of the willing, efficient, and
respectful Indian women for their own sakes. Then, too, there were
political considerations which account for the fact that in some cases
several squaws were taken at once, or in rapid succession. Marriage has
always been employed as a means of ingratiation by the outsider. It may
be said to their credit, with a few exceptions, genuine mountain men
were faithful to their Indian wives.[82]
The Earl of Dunraven has left an excellent description of a squaw man's
camp which he visited in Yellowstone Park during the summer of 1874:
These men looked very happy and comfortable. Unquestionably the proper
way for a man to travel with ease and luxury in these deserts is for
him to take unto himself a helpmate chosen from the native population.
No amount of art, industry, and study can rival the instinct displayed
by savages in making themselves comfortable, and in utilizing for
their own benefit all the accidents of Nature. Nobody can choose a
camp as they can: nobody knows how to make a fire so quickly or so
well: nobody can so wisely pick a shady, cool place in summer heat, or
choose one sheltered from wind and storms in winter. With an Indian
wife to look after his bodily comforts, a man may devote himself to
hunting, fishing, or trapping without a thought or care. He may make
his mind quite easy about all household matters. His camp will be well
arranged, the tent-pegs driven securely home, the stock watered,
picketed, and properly cared for, a good supper cooked, his bed spread
out, and everything made comfortable; his clothes and hunting-gear
looked after, the buttons sewn on his shirt--if he has got any shirt
or any buttons; and all the little trivial incidents of life which, if
neglected, wear out one's existence, he will find carefully attended
to by a willing and affectionate slave.
They had a lot to tell us also about their travels and adventures,
about the wood and water supply, and the abundance or deficiency of
game. So we sat down on bales of beaver-skins and retailed all the
civilized intelligence we could think of; and the women came and
brought us ember for our pipes, spread out robes for us and made us at
home; and the little fat, chubby children, wild and shy as young
wolves, peered at us from behind the tent out of their round, black,
beady eyes.[83]
The premier social event among mountain men was the annual rendezvous.
This institution was inaugurated on Green River in July, 1824, by
General William H. Ashley, owner of the interests that evolved into the
Rocky Mountain Fur Company. The Ashley men traveled to the fur region in
concert. Upon arrival, they were divided into "brigades" and dispersed
into various districts with instructions to reassemble at an appointed
time and place. In this manner the rendezvous became a sort of roving
trading place; it served in lieu of a post. These shifting locations
were occasioned by the need of forage for large numbers of horses. For
sixteen years this combination of market, fiesta, and carousal held sway
in such romantic spots as Green River, Ogden's Hole, Pierre's Hole--now
Teton Basin in Idaho--and the Horse Creek-Green River country south of
Jackson's Hole in Wyoming. In her book, _The River of the West_, Frances
Fuller Victor tells of a rendezvous held by Jim Bridger and his
trappers. The place was Hayden Valley; the season, 1838.[84]
Thither the company men, free trappers, and Indians foregathered. The
business of exchange and supply was quickly transacted with beaver skins
serving as money. Then came the celebration, and what a gala event it
was. Trappers sought to indemnify themselves for the sufferings and
privations of a year in the wilderness. Squaw men parted with their
"hairy bank notes" in order to bedeck their spouses in bright cloth and
gewgaws. Here were men with reputations to sustain, proud men with a
streak of wild vanity: "Old Knock Him Stiff," "Old Straightener,"
"Dead-Eye Dick," "Broken Hand," Kit, Joe, and Jim. Most mountain men
were openhanded, and they squandered a year's earnings in a few days of
prodigal indulgence. Coffee and chocolate were prepared; the kegs were
emptied; all pipes were kept aglow; free and generous spirits moved by
day and night.[85] Truly this burnt and seamy-faced band was an
all-American aggregation.
The veterans boasted "most enormous adventures" in mountain experience.
Each represented himself as more than a match for any possible array of
Indians or grizzlies. Narrations waxed romantic in the desire to
astonish the new recruits. Extravagant and absurd as their yarns were,
there was always a current of rude, good humor that allowed each
listener to believe as little as he liked. There were rollicking, fiery,
boisterous, swaggering southerners; quiet, steel-eyed northerners;
mercurial French; loquacious Irish; calculating Scots; greedy middlemen;
shrewd dealers; squaw men; Indian haters; Indians of many nations; pals;
rivals; and enemies. Everyone was invited; no one was missing. It was a
self-propelling circus, one show a year, the antecedent of roundup,
rodeo, fair, and tournament.
Contests of skill were carried to a point of jeopardizing life. There
were William Tell episodes and no mistakes, trials of speed and strength
for both horse and man. There was plenty of flirting, feasting,
carousing, and outright debauchery. All were on friendly terms today,
but each was unconsciously aware that tomorrow their relationships would
change, and woe unto him who was caught unaware!
The rendezvous was perhaps the most colorful, spontaneous, lusty, and
romantic institution ever known among civilized men. It was conceived,
nurtured, and abandoned within a score of years (1824-1840). A fleeting
climax to a picturesque band--they came from everywhere, wrote a saga
that reads like an epoch from a long-forgotten age, then vanished from
the scene.
Actually they did not make a definite exit; they just faded away. Some,
like Colter, turned into prosaic farmers; others became guides, only to
lag superfluously upon the stage; some turned to trade; some, to
government appointments as Indian agents. A few lingered on as trappers,
sighing for the life that was gone forever. Trappers of the Great
West--they had given their all and there were no regrets. Their levity
and valor, their hardships and pleasure, what a medley it made. One of
the French Canadians has left this testimonial:
I have now been forty-two years in this country. For twenty-four I was
light canoe-man; I required but little sleep, but sometimes got less
than I required. No portage was too long for me; all portages were
alike. My end of the canoe never touched the ground till I saw the end
of it. Fifty songs a day were nothing to me. I could carry, paddle,
walk, and sing with any man I ever saw. During that period, I saved
the lives of ten Bourgeois, and was always the favourite, because when
others stopped to tarry at a bad step, and lost time, I pushed
on--over rapids, over cascades, over chutes; all were the same to me.
No water, no weather, ever stopped the paddle or the song. I have had
twelve wives in the country; and was once possessed of fifty horses,
and six running dogs, trimmed in the first style. I was then like a
Bourgeois, rich and happy; no Bourgeois had better-dressed wives than
I; no Indian chief finer horses; no white man better harnessed or
swifter dogs. I beat all Indians at the race, and no white man ever
passed me in the chase. I wanted for nothing; and I spent all my
earnings in the enjoyment of pleasure. Five hundred pounds, twice
told, have passed through my hands; although now I have not a spare
shirt to my back, nor a penny to buy one. Yet, were I young again, I
should glory in commencing the same career again.[86]
The significance of the fur trade is graphically depicted by the
National Park Service with charts, diagrams, illustrations, models, and
dioramas in the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial, Scotts Bluff,
Guernsey Lake, Fort Laramie, Grand Teton and Yellowstone National parks.