Last
month I was scheduled to present a program on local history at the Water’s Edge
Nature Center located on Smith Lake, north of Algona. However, influenza had other plans for me and
I had to reluctantly ask that the program be postponed. Trust me, you would not have wanted to be
around me. I didn’t want to be around
me. The wonderful staff at Water’s Edge
were very understanding and graciously postponed the program for a month to
allow me to recover. So we are going to
try again this Thursday, March 9th, at 1:00 p.m. The program will be about some of the
adventures of William Ingham, one of the earliest settlers in Kossuth
County. The program is open to the
public so if you are hankering to take a step back in time, come on out.
In
keeping with the Ingham theme this week, I thought I would share a story or two
that I was not able to include in the program.
The story “Big Elk Antlers” comes from a book entitled, “Ten Years on
The Iowa Frontier” written by Harvey Ingham, William’s son. Here is that story:
BIG ELK ANTLERS
 |
| W.H. Ingham when he served in the Northern Border Brigade |
When
the storm was over, bringing out the home-made snow shoes of the winter before,
Seeley and Ingham set forth on an elk hunt. After going up the Black Cat from
their cabin to the grove now known as the Frink Grove, they came upon a buck
elk carrying the largest antlers they had ever seen. Of their efforts to capture those antlers Mr.
Ingham writes:
“We saw a fine buck
standing some thirty rods back from the creek, within easy rifle range from a
tree we had selected from which to approach.
He was small of size but carried the largest and most perfect set of
antlers I have ever seen. We went around
the creek channel some rods on the leeward side, and then turned down as far as
we thought it safe to walk. We then
crept on the wind swept ice. When within
some four rods of the tree we saw elk ears moving on the crest of the bank some
eight feet above us. As we came to the
tree we ran into a number of does on the ice below the bend and they saw us as
we saw them. There was now nothing for
us but to rush the steep bank in the chance of getting a shot at the buck before
he could take the alarm. We sprang to
our feet and started up the bank. When almost to the top we saw the old buck
standing unconcerned within short range. Just then my feet slipped and when I
stopped my face was much nearer the ice than I cared to have it. Seeley had fared no better. By this time the elk were crashing through
the brush. We rushed again for the bank
and this time made it, only to see big antlers disappearing over the ridge not
far away.”
As
it was already growing dark, and too late in the day to think of following him,
the hunters turned back to the cabin, fully intent on resuming the hunt in the
morning. They were up early and started
off by moonlight, and found their elk bunched together on the prairie not two
miles from where they had been the night before. The buck with the antlers was alert and on
the windward side of the herd. He became
restless as the hunters neared and they were forced to shoot at long range,
killing a young buck. It did not take
them long to discover that those big horns were the reward of sagacity and
watchfulness on the part of the wearer.
After a long pursuit they sent the dog out after the elk in the hope to
scatter the herd. He killed another
young buck, and it being time to return they decided to drag the two elk to the
cabin. Mr. Ingham writes: “Seeley
always referred to this afterwards as the hardest thing he ever did.”
On
reaching the cabin they fully decided to go again in the morning with loaded
sleds and pursue big antlers to a capture, but when morning came Seeley found
he had been lamed by the work of the day before. It took some arguments to keep Mr. Ingham
from setting out alone, and frequently later he expressed regret that he was
dissuaded. He believed that alone he
could have captured the elk.
ANDREW SEELEY’S MEMORIES
Mr.
Seeley writes: “The winter of ’56 and ’57 will be remembered by all living in the
west. We did some good traveling on snow
shoes that winter. We went up the Black
Cat Creek in December, saw about 30 elk, wounded one. As it was late in the afternoon we thought it
best to leave them till morning and come home.
The elk were not over one-half mile off when we started for home. The next morning we were on their track
before it was light enough to see the tracks plainly. We came up to them between 9 and 10 o’clock,
killed one and left it lay and followed the rest for quite a distance and
killed one more, then it was noon. We
found a corner stake which said we were 15 miles from home. The snow was so deep we couldn’t get out with
a team or we might have killed all of them, as they were very tired. We had all we could get in with. They were not the largest, would have weighed
perhaps 200 pounds each. We did not
think we could get them both in. We
started with the last one we killed, snaked it to where we left the first
one. They dragged very easy on the start
but got very heavy before 10 o’clock. At
night when we made for Mr. Reibhoff’s for supper, which Mrs. Zahlten, then Miss
Reibhoff, got up for us. It was good,
you bet. I didn’t get mine quite to the
house. I left it on the ice in the
creek, gun and all. Peter and John
Reibhoff had to pull them a little ways.
He said he didn’t see how we did it. We were very tired and our feet got
very sore. It was fun on the start but
it got very old before we got through. I
think it the hardest day’s work I ever did.
We had snow shoes. I wanted to
leave them out eight miles; you that know the other fellow (Mr. Ingham) know the reason we did not. He was always tougher than I was and I
thought I could stand a little hardship those days.”
Can
you imagine dragging a large elk eight to fifteen miles across deep snow while
wearing snow shoes? I never cease to be
amazed by the super human feats some of these pioneers were able to pull
off.
THE TUTTLE WHISKEY BARREL
I
thought I would include one more brief story. At the beginning of the elk hunting story
there is a reference to the “storm that cached the Tuttle whiskey barrel.” I had not heard of that before and it made me
curious.
The
Upper Des Moines, of Algona, told the story of Mr. Tuttle’s troubles and
recalled this incident: ”Mr. Tuttle was a tall, heavy frontiersman,
pretty well along in years, who in the spring of 1856 had pushed north to a
little lake in southern Minnesota, which the Indians, with some sense of
beauty, had named ‘Okamampedah’, but which he succeeded in having known as
‘Tuttle’s Lake’, by which plain and unornamental designation it still holds its
place on the map. After locating his
family he had gone south with his boys for his winter’s supplies, and on the
last day of November arrived with his wagons at the Horace Schenck cabin. Mr. Schenck was pretty well fixed for the
winter and with characteristic hospitality he entertained his visitors. The last day of November was Saturday and it
had been one of those beautiful days that so frequently ushered in the fiercest
blizzards. In the evening a light snow
was falling. In the morning the snow was
coming faster and the wind was rising.
After some debate Mr. Tuttle decided to try for home. He succeeded in dragging his wagons into the
ravine northwest of the Reibhoff grove, and unhitching the teams turned in at
the John James cabin. Sunday night the
storm was at its height. All day Monday
and all day Tuesday it continued unabated, and although the break came on
Wednesday nobody ventured forth until Thursday, and then to look upon the heaviest
coating of snow ever seen by a white man in Kossuth county. The ravine in which the Tuttle wagons had
been left was drifted full. No trace of
the wagons could be discovered. The fact
that one of the chief items of Mr. Tuttle’s supplies was a barrel of whiskey
stirred him to great anxiety. The
thought of allowing that barrel of good cheer to lie buried all winter was too
painful to the old gentlemen, and the ingenuity of the settlement was called
upon to locate the wagons. By cutting
poles and pushing through the snow the wagon with the barrel was at length
found. Thereupon a well was dug directly
over the barrel, and during the remainder of that long winter the well was kept
open. Succeeding snows increased the
depth until finally a ladder was needed, which proved to be a temperance
measure in its way, as it was not safe at any time during that winter to be
incapacitated to clamber out of the well.
The Tuttles lingered until spring.
Finally the old gentleman insisted on starting for his home on foot,
dragging a hand sled with a jug and some other cargo.”
I
hope to see you on Thursday. Until then,
keep your whiskey barrel from being buried in the snow.
Until
next time,
Jean
If you enjoyed this
post, please don’t forget to “like” and SHARE to Facebook. Not a Facebook
user? Sign up with your email address in the box on the right to have
each post sent directly to you.
Be sure to visit the
KCHB Facebook page for more interesting info about the history of Kossuth
County, Iowa.
Reminder: The posts on Kossuth County History Buff are ©2015-17 by
Jean Kramer. Please use the FB “share” feature instead of
cutting/pasting.
No comments:
Post a Comment