habits. They are at the present hour engaged in plundering
forays,—acting towards the emigrant trains of Californian adventurers
just as they did towards the Spanish caravans. But they usually meet
with a very different reception from the more daring Saxon travellers,
who constitute the “trains” now crossing their country; and not
unfrequently a terrible punishment is the reward of their audacity. For
all that, many of the emigrants, who have been so imprudent as to travel
in small parties, have suffered at their hands, losing not only their
property, but their lives; since hundreds of the bravest men have fallen
by the arrows of these insignificant savages! Even the exploring parties
of the United States government, accompanied by troops, have been
attacked by them; and more than one officer has fallen a victim to their
Ishmaelitish propensities.
It is not in open warfare that there is any dread of them. The smallest
party of whites need not fear to encounter a hundred of them at once;
but their attacks are made by stealth, and under cover of the night;
and, as soon as they have succeeded in separating the horses or other
animals from the travellers’ camp, they drive them off so adroitly that
pursuit is impossible. Whenever a grand blow has been struck—that is, a
traveller has been murdered—they all disappear as if by magic; and for
several days after not one is to be seen, upon whom revenge might be
taken. The numerous “smokes,” rising up out of the rocky defiles of the
mountains, are then the only evidence that human beings are in the
neighborhood of the travellers’ camp.
The Digger is different from other North-American Indians,—both in
physical organization and intellectual character. So low is he in the
scale of both, as to dispute with the African Bushman, the Andaman
Islander, and the starving savage of Tierra del Fuego, the claim to that
point in the transition, which is supposed to separate the monkey from
the man. It has been variously awarded by ethnologists, and I as one
have had my doubts, as to which of the three is deserving of the
distinction. Upon mature consideration, however, I have come to the
conclusion that the Digger is entitled to it.
This miserable creature is of a dark-brown or copper color,—the hue so
generally known as characteristic of the American aborigines. He stands
about five feet in height,—often under but rarely over this
standard,—and his body is thin and meagre, resembling that of a frog
stretched upon a fish-hook. The skin that covers it—especially that of
an old Digger—is wrinkled and corrugated like the hide of an Asiatic
rhinoceros,—with a surface as dry as parched buck-skin. His feet, turned
in at the toes,—as with all the aborigines of America,—have some
resemblance to human feet; but in the legs this resemblance ends. The
lower limbs are almost destitute of calves, and the knee-pans are of
immense size,—resembling a pair of pads or callosities, like those upon
goats and antelopes. The face is broad and angular, with high
cheek-bones; the eyes small, black, and sunken, and sparkle in their
hollow sockets, not with true intelligence, but that sort of vivacity
which may often be observed in the lower animals, especially in several
species of monkeys. Throughout the whole physical composition of the
Digger, there is only one thing that appeals luxuriant,—and that is his
hair. Like all Indians he is amply endowed in this respect, and long,
black tresses—sometimes embrowned by the sun, and matted together with
mud or other filth—hang over his naked shoulders. Generally he crops
them.
In the summer months, the Digger’s costume is extremely simple,—after
the fashion of that worn by our common parents, Adam and Eve. In winter,
however, the climate of his desert home is rigorous in the extreme,—the
mountains over his head, and the plains under his feet, being often
covered with snow. At this season he requires a garment to shelter his
body from the piercing blast; and this he obtains by stitching together
a few skins of the sage-hare, so as to form a kind of shirt or
body-coat. He is not always rich enough to have even a good coat of this
simple material; and its scanty skirt too often exposes his wrinkled
limbs to the biting frost.
Between the Digger and his wife, or “squaw,” there is not much
difference either in costume or character. The latter may be
distinguished, by being of less stature, rather than by any feminine
graces in her physical or intellectual conformation. She might be
recognized, too, by watching the employment of the family; for it is she
who does nearly all the work, stitches the rabbit-skin shirt, digs the
“yampa” and “kamas” roots, gathers the “mezquite” pods, and gets
together the larder of “prairie-crickets.” Though lowest of all American
Indians in the scale of civilization, the Digger resembles them all in
this,—he regards himself as lord and master, and the woman as his slave.
As already observed, there is no such thing as a _tribe_ of
Diggers,—nothing of the nature of a political organization; and the
chief of their miserable little community—for sometimes there is a head
man—is only he who is most regarded for his strength. Indeed, the nature
of their country would not admit of a large number of them living
together. The little valleys or “oases”—that occur at intervals along
the banks of some lone desert stream,—would not, any one of them,
furnish subsistence to more than a few individuals,—especially to
savages ignorant of agriculture,—that is, not knowing how to _plant_ or
_sow_. The Diggers, however, if they know not how to _sow_, may be said
to understand something about how to _reap_, since _root-digging_ is one
of their most essential employments,—that occupation from which they
have obtained their distinctive appellation, in the language of the
trappers.
Not being agriculturists, you will naturally conclude that they are
either a pastoral people, or else a nation of hunters. But in truth they
are neither one nor the other. They have no domestic animal,—many of
them not even the universal dog; and as to hunting, there is no large
game in their country. The buffalo does not range so far west; and if he
did, it is not likely they could either kill or capture so formidable a
creature; while the prong-horned antelope, which does inhabit their
plains, is altogether too swift a creature, to be taken by any wiles a
Digger might invent. The “big-horn,” and the black and white-tailed
species of deer, are also too shy and too fleet for their puny weapons;
and as to the grizzly bear, the very sight of one is enough to give a
Digger Indian the “chills.”
If, then, they do not cultivate the ground, nor rear some kind of
animals, nor yet live by the chase, how do these people manage to obtain
subsistence? The answer to this question appears a dilemma,—since it has
been already stated, that their country produces little else than the
wild and worthless sage-plant.
Were we speaking of an Indian of tropical America, or a native of the
lovely islands of the great South Sea, there would be no difficulty
whatever in accounting for his subsistence,—even though he neither
planted nor sowed, tended cattle, nor yet followed the chase. In these
regions of luxuriant vegetation, nature has been bountiful to her
children; and, it may be almost literally alleged that the loaf of bread
grows spontaneously on the tree. But the very reverse is the case in the
country of the Digger Indian. Even the hand of cultivation could scarce
wring a crop from the sterile soil; and Nature has provided hardly one
article that deserves the name of food.
Perhaps you may fancy that the Digger is a fisherman; and obtains his
living from the stream, by the side of which he makes his dwelling. Not
even this is permitted to him. It is true that his supposed kindred, the
Shoshonees, occasionally follow the occupation of fishermen upon the
banks of the Great Snake River,—which at certain seasons of the year
swarms with the finest salmon; but the poor Digger has no share in the
finny spoil. The streams, that traverse his desert home, empty their
waters into the briny bosom of the Great Salt Lake,—a true _Dead Sea_,
where neither salmon, nor any other fish could live for an instant.
How then does the Digger obtain his food? Is he a manufacturer,—and
perforce a merchant,—who exchanges with some other tribe his
manufactured goods for provisions and “raw material?” Nothing of the
sort. Least of all is he a manufacturer. The hare-skin shirt is his
highest effort in the line of textile fabrics; and his poor weak bow,
and flint-tipped arrows, are the only tools he is capable of making.
Sometimes he is even without these weapons; and may be seen with
another,—a long stick, with a hook at one end,—the hook itself being the
stump of a lopped branch, with its natural inclination to that which
forms the stick. The object and purpose of this simple weapon we shall
presently describe.
The Digger’s wife may be seen with a weapon equally simple in its
construction. This is also a stick—but a much shorter one—pointed at one
end, and bearing some resemblance to a gardener’s “dibble.” Sometimes it
is tipped with horn,—when this can be procured,—but otherwise the hard
point is produced by calcining it in the fire. This tool is essentially
an implement of husbandry,—as will presently appear.
Let us now clear up the mystery, and explain how the Digger maintains
himself. There is not much mystery after all. Although, as already
stated, his country produces nothing that could fairly be termed _food_,
yet there are a few articles within his reach upon which a human being
_might_ subsist,—that is, might just keep body and soul together. One of
these articles is the bean, or legume of the “mezquite” tree, of which
there are many kinds throughout the desert region. They are known to
Spanish Americans as _algarobia_ trees; and, in the southern parts of
the desert, grow to a considerable size,—often attaining the dimension
of twenty to twenty-five feet in height.
They produce a large legume, filled with seeds and a pulp of
sweetish-acid taste,—similar to that of the “honey-locust.” These beans
are collected in large quantities, by the squaw of the Digger, stowed
away in grass-woven baskets, or sometimes only in heaps in a corner of
his cave, or hovel, if he chance to have one. If so, it is a mere wattle
of artemisia, thatched and “chinked” with grass.
The mezquite seeds, then, are the _bread_ of the Digger; but, bad as is
the quality, the supply is often far behind the demands of his hungry
stomach. For vegetables, he has the “yampah” root, an umbelliferous
plant, which grows along the banks of the streams. This, with another
kind, known as “kamas” or “quamash” (_Camassia esculenta_), is a
spontaneous production; and the digging for these roots forms, at a
certain season of the year, the principal occupation of the women. The
“dibble”-like instrument already described is the _root-digger_. The
roots here mentioned, before being eaten, have to undergo a process of
cooking. The yampah is boiled in a very ingenious manner; but this piece
of ingenuity is not native to the Shoshokees, and has been obtained from
their more clever kindred, the Snakes. The pot is a _wooden one_; and
yet they can boil meat in it, or make soup if they wish! Moreover, it is
only a basket, a mere vessel of wicker-work! How, then, can water be
boiled in it? If you had not been already told how it is done, it would
no doubt puzzle you to find out.
But most likely you have read of a somewhat similar vessel among the
Chippewa Indians,—especially the tribe known as the “Assineboins,” or
‘stone-boilers’—who cook their fish or flesh in pots made of birch-bark.
The phrase _stone-boilers_ will suggest to you how the difficulty is got
over. The birch-bark pot is not set over fire; but stones are heated and
thrown into it,—of course already filled with water. The hot stones soon
cause the water to simmer, and fresh ones are added until it boils, and
the meat is sufficiently cooked. By just such a process the “Snakes”
cook their salmon and deer’s flesh,—their wicker pots being woven of so
close a texture that not even water can pass through the interstices.
It is not often, however, that the Digger is rich enough to have one of
these wicker pots,—and when he has, he is often without anything to put
into it.
The _kamas_ roots are usually baked in a hole dug in the earth, and
heated by stones taken from the fire. It requires nearly two days to
bake them properly; and then, when taken out of the “oven,” the mass
bears a strong resemblance to soft glue or size, and has a sweet and
rather agreeable taste,—likened to that of baked pears or quinces.
I have not yet specified the whole of the Digger’s larder. Were he to
depend altogether on the roots and seeds already mentioned, he would
often have to starve,—and in reality he often _does_ starve,—for, even
with the additional supplies which his sterile soil scantily furnishes
him, he is frequently the victim of famine.
There may be a bad season of the mezquite-crop, and the bears—who are as
cunning “diggers” as he—sometimes destroy his “plantations” of yampah
and kamas. He finds a resource, however, in the _prairie-cricket_, an
insect—or reptile, you may call it—of the _gryllus_ tribe, of a
dark-brown color, and more like a bug than any other crawler. These, at
certain seasons of the year, make their appearance upon the desert
plains, and in such numbers that the ground appears to be alive with
them. An allied species has of late years become celebrated: on account
of a visit paid by vast numbers of them to the Mormon plantations;
where, as may be remembered, they devastated the crops,—just as the
locusts do in Africa,—causing a very severe season of famine among these
isolated people. It may be remembered also, that flocks of white birds
followed the movements of these American locusts,—preying upon them, and
thinning their multitudinous hosts.
These birds were of the gull genus (_Larus_), and one of the most
beautiful of the species. They frequent the shores and islands of the
rivers of _Prairie-land_, living chiefly upon such insects as are found
in the neighborhood of their waters. It was but natural, therefore, they
should follow the locusts, or “grasshoppers,” as the Mormons termed
them; but the _pseudo-prophet_ of these deluded people could not suffer
to pass such a fine opportunity of proving his divine inspiration: which
he did by audaciously declaring that the birds were “heaven-born,” and
had been sent by the Almighty (in obedience to a prayer from him, the
prophet) to rid the country of the pest of the grasshoppers!
These prairie-crickets are of a dark-brown color,—not unlike the
_gryllus migratorius_ of Africa, and with very similar habits. When
settled thickly upon the ground, the whole surface assumes a darkish
hue, as if covered with crape; and when they are all in motion,—creeping
to and fro in search of their food,—a very singular effect is produced.
At this time they do not take to wing; though they attempt to get out of
the way, by making short hops from place to place, and crawling with
great rapidity. Notwithstanding their efforts to escape, hundreds of
them are “squashed” beneath the foot of the pedestrian, or hoofs of the
traveller’s horse.
These crickets, with several bug-like insects of different species,
furnish the Digger with an important article of food. It may appear a
strange provender for a human stomach; but there is nothing unnatural
about it,—any more than about the eating of shrimps or prawns; and it
will be remembered that the Bushmen, and many other tribes of South
Africa eat the _gryllus migratorius_; while, in the northern part of
that same continent, many nations regard them as a proper article of
food. Though some writers have asserted, that it was the legume of the
locust-tree (an acacia) which was eaten by St. John the Baptist in the
wilderness, it is easily proved that such was not the case. That his
food was the locust (_gryllus migratorius_) and wild honey, is strictly
and literally true; and at the present day, were you to visit the
“wilderness” mentioned by the Apostle, you might see people living upon
“locusts and wild-honey,” just as they did eighteen hundred years ago.
The Diggers _cook_ their crickets sometimes by boiling them in the pots
aforementioned, and sometimes by “roasting.” They also mix them with the
mezquite seeds and pulp,—the whole forming a kind of plum-pudding, or
“cricket-pasty,”—or, as it is jocosely termed by the trappers,
“cricket-cake.”
Their mode of collecting the grasshoppers is not without some display of
ingenuity. When the insects are in abundance, there is not much
difficulty in obtaining a sufficient supply; but this is not always the
case. Sometimes they appear very sparsely upon the plains; and, being
nimble in their movements, are not easily laid hold of. Only one could
be taken at a time; and, by gleaning in this way, a very limited supply
would be obtained. To remedy this, the Diggers have invented a somewhat
ingenious contrivance for capturing them wholesale,—which is effected in
the following manner:—When the whereabouts of the grasshoppers has been
discovered, a round hole—of three or four feet in diameter, and of about
equal depth—is scooped out in the centre of the plain. It is shaped
somewhat after the fashion of a kiln; and the earth, that has been taken
out, is carried out of the way.
The Digger community then all turn out—men, women, and children—and
deploy themselves into a wide circle, enclosing as large a tract as
their numbers will permit. Each individual is armed with a stick, with
which he beats the sage-bushes, and makes other violent demonstrations:
the object being to frighten the grasshoppers, and cause them to move
inward towards the pit that has been dug. The insects, thus beset, move
as directed,—gradually approaching the centre,—while the “beaters”
follow in a circle constantly lessening in circumference. After a time
the crickets, before only thinly scattered over the plain,—grow more
crowded as the space becomes contracted; until at length the surface is
covered with a black moving swarm, and the beaters, still pressing upon
them, and driving them onward, force the whole body pellmell over the
edges of the pit.
Bunches of grass, already provided are now flung over them, and upon
that a few shovelfuls of earth or sand; and then—horrible to relate!—a
large pile of artemisia stalks is heaped upon the top and set on fire!
The result is that, in a few minutes, the poor grasshoppers are smoked
to death, and parched at the same time—so as to be ready for eating,
whenever the _débris_ of the fire has been removed.
The prairie-cricket is not the only article of the _flesh-meat_ kind,
found in the larder of the Digger. Another animal furnishes him with an
occasional meal. This is the “sage-hare,” known to hunters as the
“sage-rabbit,” but to naturalists as the _lepus artemisia_. It is a very
small animal,—less in size than the common rabbit,—though it is in
reality a true hare. It is of a silvery, or whitish-gray color—which
adapts it to the hue of the _artemisia_ bushes on the stalks and berries
of which it feeds.
It is from the skins of this animal, that the Digger women manufacture
the rabbit-skin shirts, already described. Its flesh would not be very
agreeable to a European palate,—even with the addition of an onion,—for
it has the sage flavor to such a degree, as to be as bitter as wormwood
itself. An onion with it would not be tasted! But tastes differ, and by
the Digger the flesh of the sage-hare is esteemed one of the nicest
delicacies. He hunts it, therefore, with the greatest assiduity; and the
chase of this insignificant animal is to the Digger, what the hunt of
the stag, the elephant, or the wild boar, is to hunters of a more
pretentious ambition.
With his bow and arrows he frequently succeeds in killing a single hare;
but this is not always so easy,—since the sage-hare, like all of its
kind, is shy, swift, and cunning. Its color, closely resembling the hue
of the artemisia foliage, is a considerable protection to it; and it can
hide among these bushes, where they grow thickly—as they generally
do—over the surface of the ground.
But the Digger is not satisfied with the scanty and uncertain supply,
which his weak bow and arrows would enable him to obtain. As in the case
of the grasshoppers, he has contrived a plan for capturing the
sage-hares by wholesale.
This he accomplishes by making a “surround,” and driving the animals,
not into a _pit_, but into a _pound_. The pound is constructed something
after the same fashion as that used by the Chippewas, and other northern
Indians, for capturing the herds of reindeer; in other words, it is an
enclosure, entered by a narrow mouth—from the _jaws_ of which mouth, two
fences are carried far out into the plain, in a gradually diverging
direction. For the deer and other large animals, the fences of the
pound—as also those of the funnel that conducts to it, require to be
made of strong stakes, stockaded side by side; but this work, as well as
the timber with which to construct it, is far beyond the reach of the
Digger. His enclosure consists of a mere wattle of artemisia stalks and
branches, woven into a row of those already standing—with here and there
a patching of rude nets, made of roots and grass. The height is not over
three feet and the sage-hare might easily spring over it; but the stupid
creature, when once “in the pound,” never thinks of looking upward; but
continues to dash its little skull against the wattle, until it is
either “clubbed” by the Digger, or impaled upon one of his obsidian
arrows.
Other quadrupeds, constituting a portion of the Digger’s food, are
several species of “gophers,” or sand-rats, ground-squirrels, and
marmots. In many parts of the Great Basin, the small rodents abound:
dwelling between the crevices of rocks, or honeycombing the dry plains
with their countless burrows. The Digger captures them by various wiles.
One method is by shooting them with blunt arrows; but the more
successful plan is, by setting a trap at the entrance to their earthen
caves. It is the “figure of 4 trap,” which the Digger employs for this
purpose, and which he constructs with ingenuity,—placing a great many
around a “warren,” and often taking as many as fifty or sixty “rats” in
a single day!
In weather too cold for the gophers to come out of their caves, the
Digger then “digs” for them: thus further entitling him to his special
appellation.
That magnificent bird, the “cock of the plains,” sometimes furnishes the
Digger with “fowl” for his dinner. This is a bird of the grouse family
(_tetrao urophasianus_), and the largest species that is
known,—exceeding in size the famed “cock of the woods” of northern
Europe. A full-fledged cock of the plains is as large as an eagle; and,
unlike most of the grouse kind, has a long, narrow body. His plumage is
of a silvery gray color—produced by a mottle of black and white,—no
doubt, given him by a nature to assimilate him to the hue of the
artemisia,—amidst which he habitually dwells, and the berries of which
furnish him with most of his food.
He is remarkable for two large _goitre-like_ swellings on the breast,
covered with a sort of hair instead of feathers; but, though a
fine-looking large bird, and a grouse too, his flesh is bitter and
unpalatable—even more so than that of the sage-hare. For all that, it is
a delicacy to the Digger, and a rare one; for the cock of the plains is
neither plentiful, nor easily captured when seen.