TRIP TO THOMPSON CREEK~HOMESTEADERS TRY TO HUNT BUFFALO
Trip to Thompson Creek
“ On the 16th day of March 1865, Frank
Martin (our guide), Robert Hudson, Levi Johnson (who went for Ira Clark who had
turned ill), Elisha Scates, Perry Campbell and the writer[1]
started on a buffalo and homesteading hunt.
We left Ashland in the afternoon and headed westward toward the setting
sun. I had a wagon and two yoke of oxen,
Perry a wagon and a span of horses. The
plan was to secure enough meat to last until summer and to find homesteading
sites for the family. Mr. Martin,
claiming to be an expert buffalo hunter, was the guide; as the rest of the
party were from Missouri and admittedly knew nothing of this game or its’
habits. In our arms were common rifles
and a few revolvers. We took grub for
five days of hunt. The first afternoon
we saw some clouds and a raw wind from the north which did not look favorable
for the evening or the next day.”
“We camped
the first night on Oxhide Creek and during the night about an inch of snow
fell. The next morning our beds were
covered by snow as we had no tents, but we were warm under the snow. “
“March 17th was clear and the snow soon disappeared. Our next camp was on Turkey Creek, at least
that was what Mr. Martin called it[2]. “
“March 18th, no Indians nor
buffalo have been seen, but Levi Johnson stepped in a jack rabbit’s hole. He had to be dug out as the ground was frozen
solid. That was about the only
excitement for the day. We camped on
Cedar Creek that night.”
“March 19th, dawned cloudy with some fog and we turned our course
southwest up Cedar Creek and saw eight gray wolves. We did not try to kill any as we were looking
for bigger game.”
“March 20th, crossed the divide over to Cow Creek and camped for the
night. We were now in unknown territory
and except for our trail grub we had nothing of fresh game to eat. Were expecting Indians at any minute as they
were known to follow the buffalo herds.
Evening foretold bad weather on the morrow.”
“March 21st, Snowing as we began the day hunting along the creek and
killing a coon and wild cat which we cooked and ate on the spot. They tasted like the rarest beef steak to us
who hadn’t eaten in so long.”
“March 22nd, Weather is better today and we
decide to head for home before snow falls again. Just over the hill of Cow Creek on the west
side we saw what we supposed were about eight hundred head of buffalo. We did not count them as they were moving
quickly north and we soon saw the braves rounding them into cadres so as to
bring one down and then the next.”
“We went back to our camp so to refill
our weapons and attempt to bag a few ourselves.
One man stayed in camp to keep a fire going and the rest took off to
kill the largest game we had ever been near.
We heard the sound of rumbling of thunder on the wind as we neared the
herd. Indians were seen already cleaning
their kills at the back of the herd where they had already passed near enough
for their braves to quietly ride up to their chosen kill and stab them
repeatedly in the heart so efficiently that we were amazed at their expertise.”
“With the Indians so near we were afraid to let them know of
our presence and silently crept back to our haven on Cow Creek. By now all of us were hungry with nothing but
leftover coon and parched corn and wildcat (which was a skinny cat at
that). It turned cold again in the
night.”
“March 23rd, Snow blowing and
drifting. North wind sending snow flying
so thick we cannot see far ahead of us.
Difficult to tell whether we will freeze, starve or both. Snow drifts are difficult to get through and
fording the creek is difficult. My oxen
team seems to know the way home[3],
so I give them the lead and facing the storm they persevere until we strike
timber on a creek that runs into the Smoky River from the South. We follow the ox-wagon and cross the divide
and get onto a creek that has timber enough to shield us for the night.”
“March 24th, No one slept much, being both cold and hungry. Morning breaks with no wind and sun breaking through
the clouds. By mid morning the snow has
melted revealing a healthy creek with good timber. Around noon we pull into what we later find
out to be three habitable dugouts on Thompson Creek.
The dugouts afforded us such warmth we felt they would suit
up to three families. Perry decided one
should be for him and Serenia and their children. “Perry could barely wait to return to Ashland and he and I led
the party back to our families, anxious to relate our adventures, though not so
much about our lack of prowess in buffalo hunting.”
Included in my book, PIONEERS WITH PURPOSE
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