Post by khickam on Feb 10, 2011 14:08:53 GMT -5
It was late July, the Lakota called it the Moon of Thunder, perhaps a reference to the frequent thunderstorms that rolled across the prairie. The spring had been wet, evidenced by the tall, green prairie grass that reached nearly shoulder high on his sturdy and sure footed mountain horse. The deep green of the lush grass contrasted sharply with the tawny, golden brown of his summer coat, when the snows came his coat grew thick and wooly.
He was about one days ride from Ft Manuel on the Missouri. He was riding roughly parallel to the Grand River following an ancient game trail and the wagon ruts from days gone by. A gentle cool wind blew out of the northwest, the smell of rain was evident on the cool breeze. His long colonial fowler rested easily across the pommel of his saddle and thighs, it was bored 20 balls to a pound and loaded with a stiff charge, just in case. This was Sioux country but they had been at peace with the whites for a long time. But, cougar, and prairie wolves, called coyote by the Spaniards prowled the plains and the deep draws leading down to the river, and red foxes also frequented the prairie dog towns on the plains near the river.
He scanned the prairie ahead squinting against the bright sunlight of a prairie morning, and spied a herd of swift footed antelope, they were paying him no mind as they grazed contently on the sweet clover of a nearby field. He caught a glimpse of a whitetail at the foot of the bluff, about a hundred yards from the antelope herd. It's red colored coat made the buck easily visible against the deep green of the clover fields, his ten point rack was still covered by a soft velvet that when the rut came in the fall, would be rubbed sharp and would be wicked weapons to be used against other bucks in the drive to win over the many does in the area.
He steered his horse towards a tall butte with a rock cairn on top of it, he didn't know who put them there perhaps the Sioux perhaps Aricara or Mandan, but his experience had taught him that in all but the driest years, a water hole was nearby. These prairie potholes were widely used by mallards, geese and other ducks to raise their broods of young. They also drew deer and antelope from a wide area on the prairie. As he approached the water hole to give his horse a well deserved drink of water. He spied a hen mallard with a brood of eight ducklings, make for the relative cover and safety of the tule's and cattails. A redtail hawk lifted from the prairie and as he rode by he saw what had drawn the avian predator to earth, a half eaten young grouse was laying in the short marsh grass, its downy feathers floating on the breeze from where the hawk had struck him with his sharp talons.
He climbed a series of buttes above the breaks of the river and across the wide river bottom full of huge cottonwoods he saw a herd of about fifty buffalo grazing on the lush grass of the rich river bottom, across the river. The hunter steered his horse along the top of the ridge skirting the head of several draws rich with buffalo brush and other plants and trees. His young cur dog spooked a mule deer doe with two fawns, they bounded away towards the next ridge, pausing for a time about fifty yards away to ascertain what he was before moving off quickly to the northwest.
He guided his strong mountain horse down a deep draw, following a game trail that he knew opened up into a wide expanse along the meandering river. Beaver sign was abundant along this section of the river, they dammed the river and made large ponds that drew hunters and trappers for centuries to this expanse of river. Men like Jed Smith, Andrew Henry, Jim Bridger and of course the undauntable Hugh Glass. He was drawn like those before him to hunt for beaver, otter and muskrat along this tributary of the Missouri River. A pond about a two hundred yards wide and twice that long was backed up by a large dam, and he spied fish cruising near the surface of the water, fish broke water now and again, perhaps Northern Pike or perhaps one of the other of the many species of fish that were abundant along the game rich drainage.
As he rode along the river bottom in the soft mud he saw the tracks of beaver, raccoon, bobcat, deer, elk and mink. He guided his horse up another deer draw and was startled by the sight of a rather large mule deer buck forty yards in front of him standing broadside offering a beautiful shot had he been so inclined to take it. He stopped his mountain horse and watched for five minutes or so as the buck grazed oblivious to his presence, before being startled and bounding away over the ridge. As he rode along he mused at the presence of elk tracks and sign along the river. They had not been seen in these parts for a long time, but he had heard that they were spreading out from the Black Hills once again, claiming the prairies that had been their home for eons.
He rode along back to the southwest along the river as it made a gentle sweep to the south before turning once more to the north towards the Yellowstone. As he rode near the top of yet another draw. He caught a glimpse of movement along the line of trees and brush below him, and shortly a prairie wolf appeared appeared carrying a young turkey in its jaws. He cocked the hammer of his long fowler and sighted down the barrel at the prairie wolf and fired as the animal was about forty yards away. He had been sure of his aim, but his horse was not the most steady platform to shoot from and his ball sailed a inch high over the back and shoulder of the small prairie wolf. He dismounted and looked for any sign of a hit and was not able to see any blood or hair that would indicate a hit on the prairie wolf. He reloaded and swung back up in the saddle and headed back to camp for dark clouds were appearing from the northwest and he did not want to be caught on the prairie in a fast moving thunderstorm. He spurred his horse up into a ground eating short lope that covered miles in a short period of time, and arrived back at camp and unsaddled and turned out his horse into the paddock and stepped into his house, shortly before the wind picked up and a heavy rain accompanied by lightning and thunder started falling.
He was about one days ride from Ft Manuel on the Missouri. He was riding roughly parallel to the Grand River following an ancient game trail and the wagon ruts from days gone by. A gentle cool wind blew out of the northwest, the smell of rain was evident on the cool breeze. His long colonial fowler rested easily across the pommel of his saddle and thighs, it was bored 20 balls to a pound and loaded with a stiff charge, just in case. This was Sioux country but they had been at peace with the whites for a long time. But, cougar, and prairie wolves, called coyote by the Spaniards prowled the plains and the deep draws leading down to the river, and red foxes also frequented the prairie dog towns on the plains near the river.
He scanned the prairie ahead squinting against the bright sunlight of a prairie morning, and spied a herd of swift footed antelope, they were paying him no mind as they grazed contently on the sweet clover of a nearby field. He caught a glimpse of a whitetail at the foot of the bluff, about a hundred yards from the antelope herd. It's red colored coat made the buck easily visible against the deep green of the clover fields, his ten point rack was still covered by a soft velvet that when the rut came in the fall, would be rubbed sharp and would be wicked weapons to be used against other bucks in the drive to win over the many does in the area.
He steered his horse towards a tall butte with a rock cairn on top of it, he didn't know who put them there perhaps the Sioux perhaps Aricara or Mandan, but his experience had taught him that in all but the driest years, a water hole was nearby. These prairie potholes were widely used by mallards, geese and other ducks to raise their broods of young. They also drew deer and antelope from a wide area on the prairie. As he approached the water hole to give his horse a well deserved drink of water. He spied a hen mallard with a brood of eight ducklings, make for the relative cover and safety of the tule's and cattails. A redtail hawk lifted from the prairie and as he rode by he saw what had drawn the avian predator to earth, a half eaten young grouse was laying in the short marsh grass, its downy feathers floating on the breeze from where the hawk had struck him with his sharp talons.
He climbed a series of buttes above the breaks of the river and across the wide river bottom full of huge cottonwoods he saw a herd of about fifty buffalo grazing on the lush grass of the rich river bottom, across the river. The hunter steered his horse along the top of the ridge skirting the head of several draws rich with buffalo brush and other plants and trees. His young cur dog spooked a mule deer doe with two fawns, they bounded away towards the next ridge, pausing for a time about fifty yards away to ascertain what he was before moving off quickly to the northwest.
He guided his strong mountain horse down a deep draw, following a game trail that he knew opened up into a wide expanse along the meandering river. Beaver sign was abundant along this section of the river, they dammed the river and made large ponds that drew hunters and trappers for centuries to this expanse of river. Men like Jed Smith, Andrew Henry, Jim Bridger and of course the undauntable Hugh Glass. He was drawn like those before him to hunt for beaver, otter and muskrat along this tributary of the Missouri River. A pond about a two hundred yards wide and twice that long was backed up by a large dam, and he spied fish cruising near the surface of the water, fish broke water now and again, perhaps Northern Pike or perhaps one of the other of the many species of fish that were abundant along the game rich drainage.
As he rode along the river bottom in the soft mud he saw the tracks of beaver, raccoon, bobcat, deer, elk and mink. He guided his horse up another deer draw and was startled by the sight of a rather large mule deer buck forty yards in front of him standing broadside offering a beautiful shot had he been so inclined to take it. He stopped his mountain horse and watched for five minutes or so as the buck grazed oblivious to his presence, before being startled and bounding away over the ridge. As he rode along he mused at the presence of elk tracks and sign along the river. They had not been seen in these parts for a long time, but he had heard that they were spreading out from the Black Hills once again, claiming the prairies that had been their home for eons.
He rode along back to the southwest along the river as it made a gentle sweep to the south before turning once more to the north towards the Yellowstone. As he rode near the top of yet another draw. He caught a glimpse of movement along the line of trees and brush below him, and shortly a prairie wolf appeared appeared carrying a young turkey in its jaws. He cocked the hammer of his long fowler and sighted down the barrel at the prairie wolf and fired as the animal was about forty yards away. He had been sure of his aim, but his horse was not the most steady platform to shoot from and his ball sailed a inch high over the back and shoulder of the small prairie wolf. He dismounted and looked for any sign of a hit and was not able to see any blood or hair that would indicate a hit on the prairie wolf. He reloaded and swung back up in the saddle and headed back to camp for dark clouds were appearing from the northwest and he did not want to be caught on the prairie in a fast moving thunderstorm. He spurred his horse up into a ground eating short lope that covered miles in a short period of time, and arrived back at camp and unsaddled and turned out his horse into the paddock and stepped into his house, shortly before the wind picked up and a heavy rain accompanied by lightning and thunder started falling.