- 1846 Buffalo Hunt – Installment 1 of 2 -
George A. Gordon was born in 1821 in Warren County, Ohio. His family moved to Indiana and he was a member of the Indiana Constitutional Convention and late in his life was the last surviving member of the Constitution that made Indiana a state. He later moved to Iowa and became a member of the Iowa Legislature. In 1867 George and his family moved to Greenwood County and he acquired land west of Eureka. This land was west of Fall River as you go across the Seventh Street low water crossing. In 1868, George Gordon was one of the ten original members of the Eureka Congregational Church. In 1902, George left the farm and moved into Eureka where he lived until he died in 1925, at the age of 104.
In 1911, Mr. Gordon wrote an article that appeared in The Eureka Herald, describing his adventures during a buffalo hunting trip through central and western Texas in 1846. This is the article in Mr. Gordon’s own words.
“The territory formerly called the “plains,” now included within the states of Kansas, Nebraska and the Dakotas, was the summer grazing ground of innumerable herds of buffalo. They were migratory animals, moving North in the spring as soon as the new grass afforded them pasturage, and when the frost of the early winter had turned the northern pastures brown, they commenced their return to their winter home in western Texas, and by the first of January, the majority of those herds that had covered the western plains during the summer, had passed south of the Red River.
“Into this winter home of the buffalo, the writer, with four companions on horseback, penetrated and wandered, between the 20th of February and the 15th of April, 1846. Between these extremes, correct dates cannot be given, as the diary I kept was written with common lead pencil, and on my way to the Gulf of Mexico, as hereafter stated (it became necessary for me to swim a river), got soaked and became illegible.
“Of my companions, two were old gray-headed French Canadians, who had spent many years as hunters and trappers in the service of the fur companies in the Northwest. Two were natives of Arkansas, one being a doctor: men of about my age. These men were each armed with a flint lock rifle and a huge bowie knife. One of the gray beards also had a small axe hung to his saddle, if it could be called a saddle, for I only had an article worthy of that name. My meeting with these men on the eve of their starting on this expedition was purely accidental.
“I had no weapon more dangerous than a pen knife, but one of the gray beards offered to loan me a rifle, if I would join them. I accepted the offer. They were already mounted, ready to leave their camp, and in less than fifteen minutes after our first meeting, I had joined a company of strangers, and had started to go into a hostile Indian country. Very foolish you will say. I will not dispute it. The gun given me was a long barreled, heavy rifle, that shot an ounce ball; also, plenty of ammunition was given to me. I named the gun “Long Tom.” As I believed a gun in the Navy was known by that name. It would not pay to shoot small birds with Long Tom, but if a ball from him struck a buffalo on the side near the termination of the long hair, his days were numbered.
“I will here anticipate the event by relating the following incident, to show of what Long Tom was capable of. One day in our rambles, coming to a circular hollow or basin perhaps one-half mile in diameter and fifty or more feet deep, with a sloping, grassy bank, with here and there an orchard-like tree, the sight was so pleasing that we dismounted and seated ourselves on the grass to admire it. The hollow had the appearance of having once been a lake, but had neither inlet nor outlet. The bottom of the basin was covered with a tall, course, dead grass. Presently I saw over the top of the grass the hump of a buffalo, near the opposite bluff, and expressed my intentions to shoot at it, but my comrades objected to my shooting at a buffalo so distant, as they thought it impossible to hit him. Regardless, however, of their wishes, I stepped to a tree farther up the bank where a plainer view of the buffalo could be had, and resting the barrel of Long Tom against the tree, I fired. The buffalo fell. At the report of the gun, a large herd that had been hidden by the tall grass, rushed up the bank. This was the longest shot made during our expedition. We now crossed the lake to the buffalo. The dead grass was as high as our heads on horseback, and every four or five rods, there was a small pool of clear water almost knee-deep to our horses. The buffalo was lying in one of those pools, the water being tinged red with his blood. He was not quite dead, and as one of the gray beards wanted his togue to roast, he wades into the pool and giving him a few taps with the axe, cut out his tongue, and I think ate all of it before morning. We killed many buffalo that we did not use even so much of as the tongue. Such “slaughter of the innocents” appearing to me inhuman, if not criminal, I proposed that we kill no more than we needed for food. This meant the killing of a least one buffalo a day, as we had fresh meat every night, but would not encumber ourselves with any unnecessary weight during the day.
“When we started on our trip, in addition to the weapons above mentioned, we took a small amount of cornbread, and a little salt. In two days, our corn was exhausted, and in a few more our salt likewise. To live on fresh meat alone without salt was not a new experience to the old trappers, but to three of us it was a dreaded experiment; however, after riding all day in an exhilarating climate, we found that tender roasted buffalo meat, even without salt, was not unpalatable.
“Our manner of proceeding during this trip was as follows: Sometimes before sunset we began to look for a place suitable to camp, a place as inconspicuous as possible being desirable, as we were in Indian country. The place for the camp being selected and our horses picketed, the young men set to work collecting fuel. If wood was not convenient, buffalo chips were generally plentiful. The gray beards brought the meat and marrow bones. The fire being converted into a bed of hot coals, the coals were speedily covered with slices of meat, or surrounded by rods, one end being stuck in the ground, and the other holding a piece of meat over the coals. The marrow bones were buried under the coals, and usually remained there till morning. Having finished our supper, the rods were replenished with meat for breakfast, as we seldom made a fire in the morning.
“The old trappers having spun out all the yarns that they had on hand for that evening, we went away from the fire and laid down; our guns by our sides, our bed the ground, our saddles our pillows, our covering the sky. No word above a whisper was spoken during the night. We posted no sentinel, but perhaps at no time were all asleep, for the hooting of an owl or howling of a wolf was sure to waken someone.
“In the morning when it was light enough for objects to be distinctly seen, we arose. Our first duty was to picket our horses on fresh grass; then we paid our respects to the meat and marrow bones that had been over, or under, the coals all night. The day we spent roving the country amidst countless bands of buffalo.
“I do not know how my companions expected to get pay for the time thus spent, but I expected improved health and gratification of the desire for adventure to compensate me.
“The old trappers having discovered fresh signs of Indians, it was thought best to return to the settlements. We had now spent several weeks in a part of the state that probably never before had been visited by white men.
“It was not always easy to find a suitable camping place, so we decided to supply ourselves with roast meat for a journey of two or three days before abandoning our present camp. Accordingly, on the following morning we left camp about sunrise, intending to return in a short time with the meat of a couple young buffalo. The doctor and I rode off together. In a little while we crossed the dry bed of an ancient stream, in the channel of which, now overgrown with luxuriant grass, were many buffalo feeding, all too old for our purpose, but as a long single file of buffalo- in which were a number of yearlings- was walking slowly past the head of a bushy ravine that terminated at the larger stream, I tied my horse to a bush and making my way as rapidly as possible up the ravine, got within twenty-five yards of them, undiscovered. In the rear was a nice, sleek, young fellow that looked like he might furnish some tender roasts. As he came opposite to me, I fired. I was so confident of getting him that I had not made proper allowance for his movement, and hit him, I suppose, too far back. On reloading my gun, I was shocked to find that it was my last ball. I had my powder, but had lost my bullets. On returning to my horse the Doctor was not to be seen, but supposing he would make his appearance in a short time, sat down to await his return. Time passed, but he did not come. I became uneasy. Had the old hunters gotten beyond the sound of Long Tom, that they did not come, or had some accident happened to them. From the bank of the dry stream the ground rose gradually to a ridge at the distance of about two miles. I left my hiding place in the brush, and rode out on this high ground where I could be seen at a distance by one on the low ground near the river. I moved about very slowly, and after the lapse of about an hour a low murmuring sound as of wind in the tops of pine trees attracted my attention; but pine trees were conspicuous by their absence. Could it be the buzzing of a bumble-bee? But of bees or winged insects of any kind there was none. Every effect must have a cause, and this constantly increasing sound must proceed from some source. I was slowly ascending the slope towards a cluster of small trees, that stood on the crest of the hill, when I was convinced that the unusual sound, which had now become a roar, was caused by the approach of an immense herd of buffalo. I stopped to consider what course to take to avoid them, but could form no opinion where they would pass. The roar became deafening, the ground trembled, my horse shook with fear. I must decide immediately what to do. That cluster of small trees in the distance appeared to be the only refuge. Toward it I put my horse at full speed, and before reaching it saw the buffalo coming. The grove was free from underbrush, the trees about a foot in diameter, straight and without a limb for twelve or fifteen feet except one that had three branches a few feet above the back of my horse. I stood on my saddle and with great difficulty on account of my heavy gun, clambered into the forks of the tree. I had run right into danger, for the center of the mass struck the little grove. In the fork of the tree, I was out of danger. But what of my horse? I believed my life depended upon the life of my horse. That he would be swept away or crushed seemed certain. The width of that mass of buffalo as shown by their trail after they had passed, was more than half a mile. For a short time, my terror was indescribable. Alone as I feared, far from civilization, without a horse, in a hostile Indian country, with my last bullet in my gun, a braver man than I was, might have despaired.
