Two Feathers
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Howdy folks
Name here is Stoney. I've been a singer/songwriter since the 60's but recently took the notion to write stories. After asking permission/advice about this from one moderator, he encouraged me to post this story here. It's a semi-fictional story about a fur trappin' Mountain Man and his dog in 1800. There IS some truth and fact to this story, and I'll tell you up front it Ain't finished quite yet! Let me know what y'all think? I don't work on this every day, so it could take awhile to get this thing finished?
Stoney
If only he had a buck for every time he said that! A buck wasn’t much, but then this was 1749 and a buck was a half day’s wages. Back in his home of Boston Mass, David Westerfield was what one would consider, a “Dandy,” quite the ladies’ man. But here in the Colorado Rockies, he was just another fur trapper trying to eke out a living with his old hound dog Bill. David was ruggedly handsome, athletically built, and 29 years old. Now a lot of that was gone from living in the mountains. He still had his athletic build, but his face was now covered in a gnarled bushy beard. Having lost the luxuries of city life, the daily shavings and bathes, he’d decided to let his beard grow. David or Two Feathers as he was known in these parts, Two Feathers was the name he’d been given by the Ute Indians. David had 2 turkey feathers he always kept stuck in his beaver skin hat. That turkey was the first thing David had shot for dinner after settling into his new camp with Bill, and he liked the way the feathers looked, There were times though, when he figured he might get his head blown off by some other trapper looking for a meal and saw only those feathers bounding through the woods. David wasn’t certain what exactly had prompted him to move west. Maybe it was the suffocating hustle and bustle of the city he’d been raised in, or the fact that his family had died in a tragic house fire while he was at his Law office, Yes, David had been a very successful lawyer back in Boston. Now, with his family gone he had no reason to stay in Boston, so he decided to see the country, and where better to start than out West in the land of clean air, majestic mountains, and critters worth trapping; Where anyone could stake his claim to a piece of government land through the Homestead Act as long as he agreed to farm it. Two Feathers had NEVER been the farming type and there wasn’t a whole lot of tillable land in the mountains, but he managed to “farm” his little piece of property, AND he figured that being this far from civilization, no one would ever check up on him to make sure that he was living up to his end of the bargain. Besides…what was the worst thing that they could do to him, make him leave? He’d just find another place to set up camp and trap there. Wilderness was abundant so that wasn’t a problem. And, as a lawyer, he knew the ins and outs of the Homestead Act. He knew that he’d be OK, even though he also knew very well that you can’t fight city hall.
Today would be like every other day he thought. Check his traps in the morning, reset what had been sprung, then go back later today and check again. He doubted that he would find much of anything in his traps, it was getting colder. He was surprised to find a nice beaver in his first trap. He’d set it in the stream close to camp and used the tender bark of a young birch tree as bait. It was one of the beaver’s favorite foods. He was debating whether to take the beaver back to camp before he continued on or have to lug it with him for the rest of the trap line. Carrying that beaver was going to be a chore, but leaving it back at camp, unattended, was asking for trouble with scavengers. He decided to take it back to camp and hoist it up into a tree to keep it safe until his returned.
As Two Feathers walked along through the woods on his trap line with Bill, he couldn’t help but reflect back on all the things he’d learned while being here. Things like how to start a fire with just a flint and steel, or how to keep his knife sharp using a flat rock and the water from the stream close by, how to smoke the meats that he had harvested while hunting. He could tell time by looking at the sun and find his directions using the sun and sometimes the moss on the trees. He had come a long way and learned many things in the year since he’d moved here. But nothing impressed him as much as the beauty he saw everywhere he turned, it wasn’t like the industrial smog of Boston. He saw Blooming birches, wild flowers, baby squirrels playing in the tree tops, chipmunks scurrying around looking for food. Yes, life was good!
Once David has established his camp and rights to his land, he set about building a cabin for him and Bill to live in. A solid cabin was much safer than the tent. It offered protection from predators, the weather, AND Indians. David had chosen this particular place for its openness, view of the mountains, and the available stands of tall straight poplar and pine trees. These trees would make a great cabin.
All that David knew about cabin building had come from the books he’d studied back in Boston once he decided to actually make this foolhardy attempt at life in the Western mountains. He soon found that, like most things, it looked easier in books than it really was. He cut the amount of logs that he had figured he needed, proceeded to notch the ends so they’d “lock” together making the stacking of the logs more secure. Everything was going pretty well, until he got past the 5<sup>th</sup> or 6<sup>th</sup> Log, then they became too heavy to lift. He needed help. Again, the books he’d studied paid off. Using a series of ropes and pulleys he had brought along with him, and the surrounding trees, he was able to lift the heavy logs to the upper parts of the walls and roof. Once he had finished with the basic construction, he needed to “Chink” or fill the cracks with mud and grasses to keep out the weather. There wasn’t much grass in the mountains, so David improvised and used leaves and pine needles mixed with the mud. This not only helped hold the mud in the seams, but added some insulation as well. Now he needed to build a fireplace for heat. The mountains provided a nice assortment of rocks for the job. He knew he couldn’t use rocks from the stream; because they had been water soaked, and even though they were solid rock, they still retained some moisture and if they were used near his fire they would heat up and explode when the water inside turned to steam and expanded. David had to carry a lot of rocks, but built a very nice, serviceable fire place and chimney. Now he just needed to christen it with fire. Yes, it was summer, but Two Feathers needed to be certain that it would work before the winter’s cold got here. Now he just needed to create some furniture and move in. There were no windows, David had no glass. He cut square openings in the walls and covered them with homemade shutters.
In the warmer weather he simply left the shutters open, and in the winter he kept them closed. All he ever had to worry about in the summer was the occasional Timber Rattler of Raccoon getting into his cabin, but that rarely happened, unless he and Bill were gone for a long period of time. Then, the lack of noise gave the critters no cause for concern, and they looked at the cabin as a safe hiding place.
Fall was coming on fast and successful trapping was slowing down. Two Feathers would get the occasional Beaver here, or Muskrat there, but no larger animals like Wolverines or Wolves, who’s fur brought good money, those animals had moved down to the foothills where food was easier to find because of the warmer weather. There was more grass and leaves down there for deer and sheep to feed on. Wolves were pack hunters and Carnivores. They lived on smaller animals like the deer and wild sheep whose diet was made up of those very same leaves and grasses. The deer and sheep moved to the lower elevations when the cooler fall weather started to set in. Wolverines, while not pack hunters, were carnivores as well and often times lived off the “left overs” from the wolves or the bears. Two Feathers had to watch himself where the Indians were concerned. While not a terribly hostile people. The Utes did have the occasional raiding party whose job was just to keep the government soldiers on their toes, by killing off trappers and settlers. The Utes were not happy that the government soldiers and the “Great White Father” in Washington D.C. was forcing the tribes onto reservations and taking their land to sell off to developers and more homesteaders. PLUS, the railroad had an interest in the West as well. So Two Feathers had to watch himself whenever he came across some Utes. They might be friendly or they might not. His concern was twofold, stay alive while keeping his hair on his head and making a living trapping. So far he’d done well at both. With Greenhorn Easterners moving West, Indian troubles, and the trapping getting worse he was being forced to find good trapping in other places. This particular day, he and Bill were moving quietly through the forest looking for good beaver trapping locations. Beavers brought the best money for what Two Feathers could trap. Trapping was very difficult work at best. After finding the perfect location, he had to make a set that was undetectable. This required cutting poles for the trap to be attached to, digging the perfect hole in which to set the trap, and sometimes, in the really cold weather, it meant getting into the frigid water and reaching down into that hole to check his trap. Two Feathers preferred to use drown sets. They caused less damage to the animal’s fur because there was no thrashing around when it got trapped. It was fairly humane, or at least as humane as it could be when you were killing an animal. The drown sets kept the beaver from being seen by poachers or smelled by scavengers who would destroy the pelt and eat the beaver leaving Two Feathers with nothing to show for his hard work.
Today, Two Feathers and Bill were moving alongside a stream and near a large cave, possibly a bear den. Two Feathers wasn’t going to go in to find out. Just then, he spotted four Ute Indians with scalps tied to their hunting bows. Two Feathers was pretty sure he and Bill needed to get out quick, but there was no place for them to hide. Well… “guess I’m gonna’ find out about that bear den he thought? He was scared that Bill might bark and get them killed, but Bill kept quiet and they both crawled into the cave, keeping a close eye on the Indians. In warmer weather there probably would have been a Timber Rattler in there, but the air was cold now and that had driven the snakes deeper into the other smaller abandoned caves where it was easier for the “ball” of them to stay warm. When Snake got cold they coiled together in a large ball, often times 20 or 30 in one ball in each den.
Two Feathers recognized the raiding party Indians. He knew they were on a killing spree and NO ONE with White skin was safe. The Indians decided to camp there by the water for the night. Two Feathers knew this was indeed going to be a very long night. He couldn’t sleep, if he did he might snore and the Indians would hear that which would lead to him and Bill being killed. In the middle of the night one of the Indians woke to go to the bathroom. He was very near the cave which unsettled Two Feathers and caused Bill to make a small growl. The Indian heard this and came to investigate. Two Feathers had no idea what to do so he did the only thing he could. He quietly whispered to Bill to run like Hell and not stop. As soon as Bill took off the Indian was on his trail like a shot. He thought it was a Wolf or a Coyote and was determined, to kill it. It was still too dark for the Indian to get a good shot with his bow, and Bill was too quick and too smart for him. Bill scurried up over the rocks and off into the woods. Two Feathers had no idea if Bill had made it out alive, he sobbed quietly for Bill, not wanting to meet the same fate if he was heard. Bill had been his best friend since Two Feathers got into Colorado. Bill had chosen Two Feathers as his new master the day Two Feathers’ wagon train had arrived. Bill just kind of attached himself to Two Feathers and they were best friend ever since. Two Feathers took care of Bill like he was family and Bill did the same for Two Feathers, they were inseparable. About 5:00 am the Indians broke camp and left. Two Feathers breathed a sigh of relief. Now his immediate concern was to find Bill, if Bill was still alive?
Two Feathers had a hard time concentrating on anything while he worried about Bill. Did Bill run fast enough, did he get away OK, did he get wounded, if he did, did a wild animal find him and kill him? These were all thoughts running through his mind. This wasn’t Boston; there were mountain lions, wolves, wolverines, and cougars in these mountains and Bill would be an easy meal for any of them if he was wounded. Two Feathers needed to get back to camp, quick! He knew that if Bill was there, he might need help. Along his way to camp, Two Feathers saw at least three beaver in the stream, but NOT in his traps, this was promising. He couldn’t risk being heard if he fired his rifle, and besides, if he shot the beaver he would ruin the fur, trapping did far less damage. The sun had been up for a few hours and the temperature was nicely warm, for a fall day. Two Feathers stopped to have a quick light lunch. He really wanted to get back to camp, but he knew that he had to eat something too or he’d never be able to make the trek.
Two Feathers’ lunch consisted of venison jerky, some ice cold water from the mountain fed stream, and bannock, Bannock was hard unleavened bread usually baked on a rock over a camp fire in the wild. The Indians made similar bread they called Fry Bread. Bannock kept very well due to its lack of moisture. Without moisture there was no mold, so bannock could keep for weeks, or months, even a year. The three things that NO mountain man would ever be caught without was Bannock, some type of jerky, be it Venison, Turkey, Elk, Moose, or Buffalo, and his rifle.
Two Feathers carried a 50 caliber St. Louis Hawken with percussion ignition. It was a large enough caliber to take down a bear, deer, elk, or moose, and still protect him and Bill from Indians. When he first arrive in Colorado he bought a 50 caliber Flint Lock Hawken from the trading post there, but soon found the flint lock to be somewhat unreliable in cold, damp weather, so he traded it along with some beaver pelts for this better percussion version. This one was MUCH more reliable, and with the percussion caps he didn’t need to carry along the priming horn for priming the frizzen pan. That made the whole rig a little lighter, and lighter was much better when you were walking everywhere.
Two Feathers couldn’t get Bill off his mind. His thoughts kept drifting back to all the time they’d spent together. When Two Feathers finally did get back to the cabin, there was Bill laying on the porch, curled up, waiting to be let in. Two Feathers couldn’t have been more thrilled. His mountain dwelling partner had survived. Two Feathers cooked up a huge Venison steak just for Bill, because he was so happy! Now life was back to normal, or as normal as it could be in the 1800’s in the mountains surrounded by Indians and wild animals?
Two Feathers had decided to take Bill and go back to that place where he had seen the 3 beaver in the stream. He figured if he set his traps just right he might get some pelts to sell or trade at the Summer rendezvous.
The Rendezvous…
The mountain man rendezvous’ were really something to see! They generally lasted anywhere from a week to a month every summer. All the “mountain men” would get together in a predetermined place for, what amounted to, one big party. Remember, these guys had been alone in the mountains for a year, so they had a lot of pent up energy and a real yearning to associate with others of their kind.
Usually, the first day, it was a lot of saying howdy and recalling stories of the past year of solitude. Stories of the Big one that got away, or the bear that he’d shot or wrestled with and killed “hand to paw.” Often times it was the tale of a near death experience at the hands of some Indian raiding party in the middle of the night. More than anything else it was a lot of Drinking, eating, swapping tales, and competing. There were contests. These were designed to show off the best of what abilities each man possessed. Shooting, Knife and Tomahawk throwing, trap setting, musicianship, Indian style wrestling, and cooking. One night, each week, during the rendezvous, the men would have a “trade session.” This was where each man would spread out his blanket and cover it with “Trade goods,” items for trade, sale, or barter. The men would go around looking to see what the others had to offer for trade. There was a code of honor among these mountain men, so no man feared leaving his blanket unattended. These were things that he had either made, or traded the local Indians for, the friendly Indians. There were handmade knives; handmade powder horns, beaver pelts, pots and pans, Indian made items, like belts, knife sheathes, and Choker necklaces, there were rifles, Black powder, rifle balls, dried fish, Jerky, and Whiskey….lots of Whiskey. Some of these things were items that the mountain man could use to barter with, or trade for other things that he needed over the winter. What’s the difference between barter and trade? Barter usually involved trading an item for some sort of labor, whereas trading was just that, trading what you had for something you liked that someone else had. There was a lot of trading and most times each man came away happy with his trades. There were a few times when someone thought they had been cheated, and even then, the final “battle” was fought with guns. NO, NOT shooting each other, but rather, a shooting competition. The one who shoots the best, gets the decision in his favor, many Disagreements were settled this way, and it was common practice that the loser just accepted the decision. Still, there was always ONE who wasn’t happy and continued to make trouble. In this case, that man was “run off” and not allowed to return to the next years rendezvous. If he tried to sneak in, there would be consequences! The whole thing, while being somewhat archaic, was still well organized and run. News of these rendezvous’ was spread by word of mouth. Each man would tell someone he saw in the woods about it and when and where it would be held. Since no one actually had a calendar; arrival was, at best, sporadic, this is one reason why it lasted so long, to give each man a fair chance to get there and trade.
Two Feathers and Bill had done very well with the trading. When the rendezvous was over and all their goodbyes had been said, they left to trek back home for another year of solitude. But, they had picked up some very useful items, like new cooking pots, a used still and some glass jugs for making whiskey, the whiskey would come in handy for next year’s rendezvous, some seed corn, you can’t make Whiskey without corn, a new bullet mold, a nice patch knife, some new buckskin britches, sewing thread and needles, and a great new 8 point Hudson Bay Blanket. That was the best blanket that Hudson Bay made. Just that blanket by itself would keep Two Feathers warm this winter, even without the cabin or fireplace. Yes, he and Bill had done very well. While heading back to the cabin, he and Bill ran into a porcupine. Of course, Bill being a dog and curious, despite Two Feathers yells and loud warnings to stay away, Bill made an attempt at befriending the porcupine, which the critter took as a hostile act. That mistake cost Bill a few quills in his side and nose. Two Feathers knew that he had to remove the quills or Bill could die from infection. He also knew that Bill wouldn’t be able to make the 20 mile trip to the cabin with the quills in him, so Two Feathers tried to use his knife to remove a few of the quills from his nose at least. He used some of the Whiskey he had gotten from the rendezvous as an antiseptic; it was after all, alcohol! He was able to remove most of them but Bill didn’t care for it much. Two Feathers just kept saying “ Damn Fool Dog, if I didn’t love ya’ so much, I’d let ya’ lay here and die.” He and Bill both knew that wasn’t true. Bill was the closest thing to a best friend that Two Feathers ever had, even back in Boston, David had very few friends. He had business acquaintances, but no actual friends to speak of, and now he’d be Damned if he’d lose the only one he ever did have! Bill made it back to camp OK, but Two Feathers could see that Bill was having trouble walking and knew that he had to get the rest of the quills out. Using some old forge tongs and some whiskey, Two Feathers was able to pull the quills out, painfully for Bill, but he knew that Bill would live. He also knew that Bill would probably NEVER get close to a porcupine again!
The rest of the day was spent just sitting out in the sun watching the animals, enjoying what was left of the warm sunny days before winter set in, and being with his best friend Bill. David decided that, since their meals were mostly meat, that he’d take Bill and they’d go try their hand at fishing in the nearby stream. He knew there were some nice sized trout in that stream and two trout would make a good meal for him and Bill, and it would be something other than red meat for a change. David did have an assortment of forest vegetation stored in his larder along with a few vegetables that he had grown in the small area of open ground that he used as a garden. The open area was one of the reasons that he had chosen this location for him and Bill to call home and why he had built a cabin here. It was also close to the stream with the beaver, muskrat, mink and trout. Yup, this place had it all, open ground, sun, shelter, forest, animals to trap and fish to catch. This was him and Bill’s “Utopia.”
The last time he had fished was in Boston, in the ocean, AND with a fancy fishing pole and great bait. This time he was at a loss for any ideas about what to do, so he improvised. He knew fish ate bugs, worms, and other smaller fish. Using his knife, he cut a willow switch about 6 feet long for his “pole”, then he found a briar bush and cut a small thorn crotch to use as a hook. Using his knife again he carved the thorn crotch into a sort of J to resemble a fish hook. He used some deer sinew as fishing line, found some grubs under a rock, stuck one on his “hook” and went fishin’. He knew where the water was very still in a little sunny pool, so that’s where he tried first. He could see the trout, he knew they were there, but getting them to bite was a different story. This was much easier back in Boston he thought to himself, but he wouldn’t give up. He kept just missing the trout and he was running out of bait. He decided that IF he did catch a fish, then he’d weave a fish basket to set in the stream for the next time. A fish basket was a pretty simple fish trap. You wove a basket out of willow switches, then you wove a tapered “funnel” looking piece which you inserted into the open end of the basket. The idea was, that the taper led into the larger basket and when the fish swam through the taper into the basket, they couldn’t find their way back out. It worked like the Lobster traps that he had used back in Boston. If this DID work, then he and Bill would have fresh fish every day for as long as he could catch them. On his last piece of bait he hooked a nice fat trout. He looked under some rocks and found a few worms, so he decided to try again before leaving. The “fish Gods” must have been with him, because he hooked another trout. He decided that two trout were enough and he should leave some for another day. He and Bill ate very well that night. They dined on grilled trout; fried potatoes that he had grown this past summer, fresh mushrooms he found in the forest, coffee for him and water for Bill, and bannock, a meal fit for a King. When the meal was over he lit a fire in the fire place and him and Bill drifted off to sleep thinking about how great his life had really become here in the mountains.
With all that food in their bellies, he and Bill had slept well past their normal wake up time. It was about 9:00 in the morning, or so he reckoned? Without any type of time piece, clock, or watch, Two Feathers had to learn to tell time (as best he could), by the position of the sun. He’d gotten pretty good at it too, but given that there was no actual clock for reference, maybe he just believed that he had gotten good at it? Normally they got up at sunrise. When Two Feathers, and Bill did finally wake up. Two Feathers was not hungry, so he decided instead of breakfast, they’d get going on the trap line.
He woke Bill. There were two traps set at the first location. This is where Two Feathers had seen the 3 beaver playing in the water on his way back to the cabin to find Bill after the Ute Indian trouble. At the first trap site, Two Feathers found a Coyote and the remains of a beaver. Apparently the smell of the trapped beaver had lured in the coyote and he had gotten caught in the second trap while eating the beaver. Being very upset that he had lost the beaver to the coyote, Two Feathers was thrilled with the coyote in his trap. The coyote fur would bring a nice price, probably better than the beaver? Still, either way he looked at it, that coyote had cost him cash money! Two Feathers re-set the trap, hoisted the coyote carcass up into the trees to avoid more predators and continued on his way.
The mountain air was getting cold, winter was moving in, and Two Feathers wasn’t certain that he and Bill were ready for it just yet? Two Feathers had wanted to build a new smoke house before winter arrived. He wanted to get another deer hunt in before winter too. The deer meat would help hold him and Bill over through the lean times, when the snow began to fly. He wanted to get more fish to smoke as well. Bill really liked the fish and a strict diet of just Red meat wasn’t good for him OR Bill. Deer meat is very lean. Two Feathers and Bill needed the calories and energy from the fat that wasn’t present in the lean deer meat to keep them alive through the cold winter. A nice fat raccoon or possum would give them the fat and calories that they needed. This was Two Feather’s first year, but second winter in these mountains and he knew what mountain life would do to a person in the winter if they didn’t have the right food. Two Feathers decided that after checking his trap line that he and Bill would go on a hunt maybe he’d find a nice Mule Deer, or better still an Elk. An Elk would give him and Bill enough meat for the winter, and if he made Jerky out of some of it, that would hold him when he and Bill went on the trap line this winter, or on another hunt. Now, it was just a matter of finding one of those critters.
Last year, before he knew about the summer rendezvous, he had come up pretty short on balls and powder for his 50 Caliber Hawken leading him to very carefully watch each shot he took. Now, with all the trade goods he had gotten at the summer rendezvous, (including a good supply of powder and balls, plus a new 50 caliber ball mold and lead), he was able to concentrate more on hunting and less on missing, and wasting powder and ammo.
Name here is Stoney. I've been a singer/songwriter since the 60's but recently took the notion to write stories. After asking permission/advice about this from one moderator, he encouraged me to post this story here. It's a semi-fictional story about a fur trappin' Mountain Man and his dog in 1800. There IS some truth and fact to this story, and I'll tell you up front it Ain't finished quite yet! Let me know what y'all think? I don't work on this every day, so it could take awhile to get this thing finished?
Stoney
Two Feathers
Author’s note: This work is purely a fictional account of one mountain man’s life. It is meant only for reading enjoyment. Similarities to anyone living or dead are pure coincidence. There is little historical accuracy within this story.
April-, 2017 Author: David A. Slusser
“Git up Bill, we’re burnin’ daylight!”If only he had a buck for every time he said that! A buck wasn’t much, but then this was 1749 and a buck was a half day’s wages. Back in his home of Boston Mass, David Westerfield was what one would consider, a “Dandy,” quite the ladies’ man. But here in the Colorado Rockies, he was just another fur trapper trying to eke out a living with his old hound dog Bill. David was ruggedly handsome, athletically built, and 29 years old. Now a lot of that was gone from living in the mountains. He still had his athletic build, but his face was now covered in a gnarled bushy beard. Having lost the luxuries of city life, the daily shavings and bathes, he’d decided to let his beard grow. David or Two Feathers as he was known in these parts, Two Feathers was the name he’d been given by the Ute Indians. David had 2 turkey feathers he always kept stuck in his beaver skin hat. That turkey was the first thing David had shot for dinner after settling into his new camp with Bill, and he liked the way the feathers looked, There were times though, when he figured he might get his head blown off by some other trapper looking for a meal and saw only those feathers bounding through the woods. David wasn’t certain what exactly had prompted him to move west. Maybe it was the suffocating hustle and bustle of the city he’d been raised in, or the fact that his family had died in a tragic house fire while he was at his Law office, Yes, David had been a very successful lawyer back in Boston. Now, with his family gone he had no reason to stay in Boston, so he decided to see the country, and where better to start than out West in the land of clean air, majestic mountains, and critters worth trapping; Where anyone could stake his claim to a piece of government land through the Homestead Act as long as he agreed to farm it. Two Feathers had NEVER been the farming type and there wasn’t a whole lot of tillable land in the mountains, but he managed to “farm” his little piece of property, AND he figured that being this far from civilization, no one would ever check up on him to make sure that he was living up to his end of the bargain. Besides…what was the worst thing that they could do to him, make him leave? He’d just find another place to set up camp and trap there. Wilderness was abundant so that wasn’t a problem. And, as a lawyer, he knew the ins and outs of the Homestead Act. He knew that he’d be OK, even though he also knew very well that you can’t fight city hall.
Today would be like every other day he thought. Check his traps in the morning, reset what had been sprung, then go back later today and check again. He doubted that he would find much of anything in his traps, it was getting colder. He was surprised to find a nice beaver in his first trap. He’d set it in the stream close to camp and used the tender bark of a young birch tree as bait. It was one of the beaver’s favorite foods. He was debating whether to take the beaver back to camp before he continued on or have to lug it with him for the rest of the trap line. Carrying that beaver was going to be a chore, but leaving it back at camp, unattended, was asking for trouble with scavengers. He decided to take it back to camp and hoist it up into a tree to keep it safe until his returned.
As Two Feathers walked along through the woods on his trap line with Bill, he couldn’t help but reflect back on all the things he’d learned while being here. Things like how to start a fire with just a flint and steel, or how to keep his knife sharp using a flat rock and the water from the stream close by, how to smoke the meats that he had harvested while hunting. He could tell time by looking at the sun and find his directions using the sun and sometimes the moss on the trees. He had come a long way and learned many things in the year since he’d moved here. But nothing impressed him as much as the beauty he saw everywhere he turned, it wasn’t like the industrial smog of Boston. He saw Blooming birches, wild flowers, baby squirrels playing in the tree tops, chipmunks scurrying around looking for food. Yes, life was good!
Once David has established his camp and rights to his land, he set about building a cabin for him and Bill to live in. A solid cabin was much safer than the tent. It offered protection from predators, the weather, AND Indians. David had chosen this particular place for its openness, view of the mountains, and the available stands of tall straight poplar and pine trees. These trees would make a great cabin.
All that David knew about cabin building had come from the books he’d studied back in Boston once he decided to actually make this foolhardy attempt at life in the Western mountains. He soon found that, like most things, it looked easier in books than it really was. He cut the amount of logs that he had figured he needed, proceeded to notch the ends so they’d “lock” together making the stacking of the logs more secure. Everything was going pretty well, until he got past the 5<sup>th</sup> or 6<sup>th</sup> Log, then they became too heavy to lift. He needed help. Again, the books he’d studied paid off. Using a series of ropes and pulleys he had brought along with him, and the surrounding trees, he was able to lift the heavy logs to the upper parts of the walls and roof. Once he had finished with the basic construction, he needed to “Chink” or fill the cracks with mud and grasses to keep out the weather. There wasn’t much grass in the mountains, so David improvised and used leaves and pine needles mixed with the mud. This not only helped hold the mud in the seams, but added some insulation as well. Now he needed to build a fireplace for heat. The mountains provided a nice assortment of rocks for the job. He knew he couldn’t use rocks from the stream; because they had been water soaked, and even though they were solid rock, they still retained some moisture and if they were used near his fire they would heat up and explode when the water inside turned to steam and expanded. David had to carry a lot of rocks, but built a very nice, serviceable fire place and chimney. Now he just needed to christen it with fire. Yes, it was summer, but Two Feathers needed to be certain that it would work before the winter’s cold got here. Now he just needed to create some furniture and move in. There were no windows, David had no glass. He cut square openings in the walls and covered them with homemade shutters.
In the warmer weather he simply left the shutters open, and in the winter he kept them closed. All he ever had to worry about in the summer was the occasional Timber Rattler of Raccoon getting into his cabin, but that rarely happened, unless he and Bill were gone for a long period of time. Then, the lack of noise gave the critters no cause for concern, and they looked at the cabin as a safe hiding place.
Fall was coming on fast and successful trapping was slowing down. Two Feathers would get the occasional Beaver here, or Muskrat there, but no larger animals like Wolverines or Wolves, who’s fur brought good money, those animals had moved down to the foothills where food was easier to find because of the warmer weather. There was more grass and leaves down there for deer and sheep to feed on. Wolves were pack hunters and Carnivores. They lived on smaller animals like the deer and wild sheep whose diet was made up of those very same leaves and grasses. The deer and sheep moved to the lower elevations when the cooler fall weather started to set in. Wolverines, while not pack hunters, were carnivores as well and often times lived off the “left overs” from the wolves or the bears. Two Feathers had to watch himself where the Indians were concerned. While not a terribly hostile people. The Utes did have the occasional raiding party whose job was just to keep the government soldiers on their toes, by killing off trappers and settlers. The Utes were not happy that the government soldiers and the “Great White Father” in Washington D.C. was forcing the tribes onto reservations and taking their land to sell off to developers and more homesteaders. PLUS, the railroad had an interest in the West as well. So Two Feathers had to watch himself whenever he came across some Utes. They might be friendly or they might not. His concern was twofold, stay alive while keeping his hair on his head and making a living trapping. So far he’d done well at both. With Greenhorn Easterners moving West, Indian troubles, and the trapping getting worse he was being forced to find good trapping in other places. This particular day, he and Bill were moving quietly through the forest looking for good beaver trapping locations. Beavers brought the best money for what Two Feathers could trap. Trapping was very difficult work at best. After finding the perfect location, he had to make a set that was undetectable. This required cutting poles for the trap to be attached to, digging the perfect hole in which to set the trap, and sometimes, in the really cold weather, it meant getting into the frigid water and reaching down into that hole to check his trap. Two Feathers preferred to use drown sets. They caused less damage to the animal’s fur because there was no thrashing around when it got trapped. It was fairly humane, or at least as humane as it could be when you were killing an animal. The drown sets kept the beaver from being seen by poachers or smelled by scavengers who would destroy the pelt and eat the beaver leaving Two Feathers with nothing to show for his hard work.
Today, Two Feathers and Bill were moving alongside a stream and near a large cave, possibly a bear den. Two Feathers wasn’t going to go in to find out. Just then, he spotted four Ute Indians with scalps tied to their hunting bows. Two Feathers was pretty sure he and Bill needed to get out quick, but there was no place for them to hide. Well… “guess I’m gonna’ find out about that bear den he thought? He was scared that Bill might bark and get them killed, but Bill kept quiet and they both crawled into the cave, keeping a close eye on the Indians. In warmer weather there probably would have been a Timber Rattler in there, but the air was cold now and that had driven the snakes deeper into the other smaller abandoned caves where it was easier for the “ball” of them to stay warm. When Snake got cold they coiled together in a large ball, often times 20 or 30 in one ball in each den.
Two Feathers recognized the raiding party Indians. He knew they were on a killing spree and NO ONE with White skin was safe. The Indians decided to camp there by the water for the night. Two Feathers knew this was indeed going to be a very long night. He couldn’t sleep, if he did he might snore and the Indians would hear that which would lead to him and Bill being killed. In the middle of the night one of the Indians woke to go to the bathroom. He was very near the cave which unsettled Two Feathers and caused Bill to make a small growl. The Indian heard this and came to investigate. Two Feathers had no idea what to do so he did the only thing he could. He quietly whispered to Bill to run like Hell and not stop. As soon as Bill took off the Indian was on his trail like a shot. He thought it was a Wolf or a Coyote and was determined, to kill it. It was still too dark for the Indian to get a good shot with his bow, and Bill was too quick and too smart for him. Bill scurried up over the rocks and off into the woods. Two Feathers had no idea if Bill had made it out alive, he sobbed quietly for Bill, not wanting to meet the same fate if he was heard. Bill had been his best friend since Two Feathers got into Colorado. Bill had chosen Two Feathers as his new master the day Two Feathers’ wagon train had arrived. Bill just kind of attached himself to Two Feathers and they were best friend ever since. Two Feathers took care of Bill like he was family and Bill did the same for Two Feathers, they were inseparable. About 5:00 am the Indians broke camp and left. Two Feathers breathed a sigh of relief. Now his immediate concern was to find Bill, if Bill was still alive?
Two Feathers had a hard time concentrating on anything while he worried about Bill. Did Bill run fast enough, did he get away OK, did he get wounded, if he did, did a wild animal find him and kill him? These were all thoughts running through his mind. This wasn’t Boston; there were mountain lions, wolves, wolverines, and cougars in these mountains and Bill would be an easy meal for any of them if he was wounded. Two Feathers needed to get back to camp, quick! He knew that if Bill was there, he might need help. Along his way to camp, Two Feathers saw at least three beaver in the stream, but NOT in his traps, this was promising. He couldn’t risk being heard if he fired his rifle, and besides, if he shot the beaver he would ruin the fur, trapping did far less damage. The sun had been up for a few hours and the temperature was nicely warm, for a fall day. Two Feathers stopped to have a quick light lunch. He really wanted to get back to camp, but he knew that he had to eat something too or he’d never be able to make the trek.
Two Feathers’ lunch consisted of venison jerky, some ice cold water from the mountain fed stream, and bannock, Bannock was hard unleavened bread usually baked on a rock over a camp fire in the wild. The Indians made similar bread they called Fry Bread. Bannock kept very well due to its lack of moisture. Without moisture there was no mold, so bannock could keep for weeks, or months, even a year. The three things that NO mountain man would ever be caught without was Bannock, some type of jerky, be it Venison, Turkey, Elk, Moose, or Buffalo, and his rifle.
Two Feathers carried a 50 caliber St. Louis Hawken with percussion ignition. It was a large enough caliber to take down a bear, deer, elk, or moose, and still protect him and Bill from Indians. When he first arrive in Colorado he bought a 50 caliber Flint Lock Hawken from the trading post there, but soon found the flint lock to be somewhat unreliable in cold, damp weather, so he traded it along with some beaver pelts for this better percussion version. This one was MUCH more reliable, and with the percussion caps he didn’t need to carry along the priming horn for priming the frizzen pan. That made the whole rig a little lighter, and lighter was much better when you were walking everywhere.
Two Feathers couldn’t get Bill off his mind. His thoughts kept drifting back to all the time they’d spent together. When Two Feathers finally did get back to the cabin, there was Bill laying on the porch, curled up, waiting to be let in. Two Feathers couldn’t have been more thrilled. His mountain dwelling partner had survived. Two Feathers cooked up a huge Venison steak just for Bill, because he was so happy! Now life was back to normal, or as normal as it could be in the 1800’s in the mountains surrounded by Indians and wild animals?
Two Feathers had decided to take Bill and go back to that place where he had seen the 3 beaver in the stream. He figured if he set his traps just right he might get some pelts to sell or trade at the Summer rendezvous.
The Rendezvous…
The mountain man rendezvous’ were really something to see! They generally lasted anywhere from a week to a month every summer. All the “mountain men” would get together in a predetermined place for, what amounted to, one big party. Remember, these guys had been alone in the mountains for a year, so they had a lot of pent up energy and a real yearning to associate with others of their kind.
Usually, the first day, it was a lot of saying howdy and recalling stories of the past year of solitude. Stories of the Big one that got away, or the bear that he’d shot or wrestled with and killed “hand to paw.” Often times it was the tale of a near death experience at the hands of some Indian raiding party in the middle of the night. More than anything else it was a lot of Drinking, eating, swapping tales, and competing. There were contests. These were designed to show off the best of what abilities each man possessed. Shooting, Knife and Tomahawk throwing, trap setting, musicianship, Indian style wrestling, and cooking. One night, each week, during the rendezvous, the men would have a “trade session.” This was where each man would spread out his blanket and cover it with “Trade goods,” items for trade, sale, or barter. The men would go around looking to see what the others had to offer for trade. There was a code of honor among these mountain men, so no man feared leaving his blanket unattended. These were things that he had either made, or traded the local Indians for, the friendly Indians. There were handmade knives; handmade powder horns, beaver pelts, pots and pans, Indian made items, like belts, knife sheathes, and Choker necklaces, there were rifles, Black powder, rifle balls, dried fish, Jerky, and Whiskey….lots of Whiskey. Some of these things were items that the mountain man could use to barter with, or trade for other things that he needed over the winter. What’s the difference between barter and trade? Barter usually involved trading an item for some sort of labor, whereas trading was just that, trading what you had for something you liked that someone else had. There was a lot of trading and most times each man came away happy with his trades. There were a few times when someone thought they had been cheated, and even then, the final “battle” was fought with guns. NO, NOT shooting each other, but rather, a shooting competition. The one who shoots the best, gets the decision in his favor, many Disagreements were settled this way, and it was common practice that the loser just accepted the decision. Still, there was always ONE who wasn’t happy and continued to make trouble. In this case, that man was “run off” and not allowed to return to the next years rendezvous. If he tried to sneak in, there would be consequences! The whole thing, while being somewhat archaic, was still well organized and run. News of these rendezvous’ was spread by word of mouth. Each man would tell someone he saw in the woods about it and when and where it would be held. Since no one actually had a calendar; arrival was, at best, sporadic, this is one reason why it lasted so long, to give each man a fair chance to get there and trade.
Two Feathers and Bill had done very well with the trading. When the rendezvous was over and all their goodbyes had been said, they left to trek back home for another year of solitude. But, they had picked up some very useful items, like new cooking pots, a used still and some glass jugs for making whiskey, the whiskey would come in handy for next year’s rendezvous, some seed corn, you can’t make Whiskey without corn, a new bullet mold, a nice patch knife, some new buckskin britches, sewing thread and needles, and a great new 8 point Hudson Bay Blanket. That was the best blanket that Hudson Bay made. Just that blanket by itself would keep Two Feathers warm this winter, even without the cabin or fireplace. Yes, he and Bill had done very well. While heading back to the cabin, he and Bill ran into a porcupine. Of course, Bill being a dog and curious, despite Two Feathers yells and loud warnings to stay away, Bill made an attempt at befriending the porcupine, which the critter took as a hostile act. That mistake cost Bill a few quills in his side and nose. Two Feathers knew that he had to remove the quills or Bill could die from infection. He also knew that Bill wouldn’t be able to make the 20 mile trip to the cabin with the quills in him, so Two Feathers tried to use his knife to remove a few of the quills from his nose at least. He used some of the Whiskey he had gotten from the rendezvous as an antiseptic; it was after all, alcohol! He was able to remove most of them but Bill didn’t care for it much. Two Feathers just kept saying “ Damn Fool Dog, if I didn’t love ya’ so much, I’d let ya’ lay here and die.” He and Bill both knew that wasn’t true. Bill was the closest thing to a best friend that Two Feathers ever had, even back in Boston, David had very few friends. He had business acquaintances, but no actual friends to speak of, and now he’d be Damned if he’d lose the only one he ever did have! Bill made it back to camp OK, but Two Feathers could see that Bill was having trouble walking and knew that he had to get the rest of the quills out. Using some old forge tongs and some whiskey, Two Feathers was able to pull the quills out, painfully for Bill, but he knew that Bill would live. He also knew that Bill would probably NEVER get close to a porcupine again!
The rest of the day was spent just sitting out in the sun watching the animals, enjoying what was left of the warm sunny days before winter set in, and being with his best friend Bill. David decided that, since their meals were mostly meat, that he’d take Bill and they’d go try their hand at fishing in the nearby stream. He knew there were some nice sized trout in that stream and two trout would make a good meal for him and Bill, and it would be something other than red meat for a change. David did have an assortment of forest vegetation stored in his larder along with a few vegetables that he had grown in the small area of open ground that he used as a garden. The open area was one of the reasons that he had chosen this location for him and Bill to call home and why he had built a cabin here. It was also close to the stream with the beaver, muskrat, mink and trout. Yup, this place had it all, open ground, sun, shelter, forest, animals to trap and fish to catch. This was him and Bill’s “Utopia.”
The last time he had fished was in Boston, in the ocean, AND with a fancy fishing pole and great bait. This time he was at a loss for any ideas about what to do, so he improvised. He knew fish ate bugs, worms, and other smaller fish. Using his knife, he cut a willow switch about 6 feet long for his “pole”, then he found a briar bush and cut a small thorn crotch to use as a hook. Using his knife again he carved the thorn crotch into a sort of J to resemble a fish hook. He used some deer sinew as fishing line, found some grubs under a rock, stuck one on his “hook” and went fishin’. He knew where the water was very still in a little sunny pool, so that’s where he tried first. He could see the trout, he knew they were there, but getting them to bite was a different story. This was much easier back in Boston he thought to himself, but he wouldn’t give up. He kept just missing the trout and he was running out of bait. He decided that IF he did catch a fish, then he’d weave a fish basket to set in the stream for the next time. A fish basket was a pretty simple fish trap. You wove a basket out of willow switches, then you wove a tapered “funnel” looking piece which you inserted into the open end of the basket. The idea was, that the taper led into the larger basket and when the fish swam through the taper into the basket, they couldn’t find their way back out. It worked like the Lobster traps that he had used back in Boston. If this DID work, then he and Bill would have fresh fish every day for as long as he could catch them. On his last piece of bait he hooked a nice fat trout. He looked under some rocks and found a few worms, so he decided to try again before leaving. The “fish Gods” must have been with him, because he hooked another trout. He decided that two trout were enough and he should leave some for another day. He and Bill ate very well that night. They dined on grilled trout; fried potatoes that he had grown this past summer, fresh mushrooms he found in the forest, coffee for him and water for Bill, and bannock, a meal fit for a King. When the meal was over he lit a fire in the fire place and him and Bill drifted off to sleep thinking about how great his life had really become here in the mountains.
With all that food in their bellies, he and Bill had slept well past their normal wake up time. It was about 9:00 in the morning, or so he reckoned? Without any type of time piece, clock, or watch, Two Feathers had to learn to tell time (as best he could), by the position of the sun. He’d gotten pretty good at it too, but given that there was no actual clock for reference, maybe he just believed that he had gotten good at it? Normally they got up at sunrise. When Two Feathers, and Bill did finally wake up. Two Feathers was not hungry, so he decided instead of breakfast, they’d get going on the trap line.
He woke Bill. There were two traps set at the first location. This is where Two Feathers had seen the 3 beaver playing in the water on his way back to the cabin to find Bill after the Ute Indian trouble. At the first trap site, Two Feathers found a Coyote and the remains of a beaver. Apparently the smell of the trapped beaver had lured in the coyote and he had gotten caught in the second trap while eating the beaver. Being very upset that he had lost the beaver to the coyote, Two Feathers was thrilled with the coyote in his trap. The coyote fur would bring a nice price, probably better than the beaver? Still, either way he looked at it, that coyote had cost him cash money! Two Feathers re-set the trap, hoisted the coyote carcass up into the trees to avoid more predators and continued on his way.
The mountain air was getting cold, winter was moving in, and Two Feathers wasn’t certain that he and Bill were ready for it just yet? Two Feathers had wanted to build a new smoke house before winter arrived. He wanted to get another deer hunt in before winter too. The deer meat would help hold him and Bill over through the lean times, when the snow began to fly. He wanted to get more fish to smoke as well. Bill really liked the fish and a strict diet of just Red meat wasn’t good for him OR Bill. Deer meat is very lean. Two Feathers and Bill needed the calories and energy from the fat that wasn’t present in the lean deer meat to keep them alive through the cold winter. A nice fat raccoon or possum would give them the fat and calories that they needed. This was Two Feather’s first year, but second winter in these mountains and he knew what mountain life would do to a person in the winter if they didn’t have the right food. Two Feathers decided that after checking his trap line that he and Bill would go on a hunt maybe he’d find a nice Mule Deer, or better still an Elk. An Elk would give him and Bill enough meat for the winter, and if he made Jerky out of some of it, that would hold him when he and Bill went on the trap line this winter, or on another hunt. Now, it was just a matter of finding one of those critters.
Last year, before he knew about the summer rendezvous, he had come up pretty short on balls and powder for his 50 Caliber Hawken leading him to very carefully watch each shot he took. Now, with all the trade goods he had gotten at the summer rendezvous, (including a good supply of powder and balls, plus a new 50 caliber ball mold and lead), he was able to concentrate more on hunting and less on missing, and wasting powder and ammo.
