Reminisences Of 1873-4

Taken From: Pioneer Sketches Nebraska and Texas

During one cold night in the winter of 1873-4 the squall of a chicken woke father, and he yelled so loud that the wolf which was after the chicken left it. But in a short time the animal tried to get the fowl again, and once more father yelled, which caused the intruder to leave. The fowl was found next morning to be unharmed. For some reason the dog was not at home.

During this winter we dug a well. It was 63 feet deep and was walled up with stone for about 15 feet, and was never walled any farther. This well did not cave so long as the water was kept from running in at the top. We drew the water with a windless, which was used to take out the dirt while digging the well, and was a rather slow process. But sister and I could draw the water by having a handle at each end of the rope beam. The first summer this well was in use we kept it covered with boards – the sideboards off the wagon. At one time a sow with her pigs were in the yard, and while the dog was chasing her away she ran across one end of the boards tilting up the other end under which one of the little pigs ran into the well. We heard the splash. The little fellow swam around until we got the half barrel, which had been used to haul the dirt up in, which we lowered into the water and the pig swam into the tub and was hoisted out unhurt, after a fall of 63 feet. It was a happy pig, and glad to get back to its mamma. This well was also used as a refrigerator in which we kept our butter firm and cool by lowering the pail containing the cakes down quite a distance attached to a cord.

We lost the best yoke of oxen we had during the winter. They were of the long horn Texas variety. They threw themselves one night, and becoming chilled their legs were soon frozen, and they would not try to get up. These animals were brown and each had a set of horns which measured some four feet from tip to tip. I used to feel very small when they would stick up their heads and look wild like at me. I could not do anything with them unless they were yoked up, as they were not very tame.

We had the native yoke of cattle left, but they were old. We put in our crop of corn and began to break out more land.

In the summer we could see he grasshoppers flying north, and they were so thick that a person could look at the sun at noonday without dazzling the eyes.

Our corn was a little late, and one afternoon about four o'clock the 'hoppers began to light in on us from the north, and in half an hour the yard was completely covered with them, as also was the corn. They made a roaring noise in eating the corn plants. The next day there wasn't a blade left. The garden was eaten up too – nothing but the holes where the turnips and onions were planted were left.

We had no wheat that year; but those who did had a good crop. We planted squash when we planted the corn, and the grasshoppers almost destroyed the vines, but after the 'hoppers left we were blessed with several good rains, and the vines began to bloom nicely and finally made a good yield.

We put the squashes away in a dug-out for winter; father also sold $25 worth at 10 cents each.

We did not have butter to put on our squash, as we had no feed to keep the cattle up. So father thought the cows would do better to let them go through the winter without giving milk, and they were turned dry in the fall – consequently we had neither butter or milk. To our surprise the cattle kept fat all winter from running on the buffalo grass on the prairies. When there was no snow on the ground the stock would go out and pick the buffalo grass like it was summer – they would not eat nice bright hay when they could get the buffalo grass and there was plenty of it, as the upland had very little of any other kind.

During the fall we had to butcher the two or three hogs we had to keep them from starving to death, and they were so poor that they did not contain grease enough to fry themselves in.

Other states sent aid to this section during the winter. Our distributing point was Edgar. Father would go after a load early in the morning and make the trip in a day. He would start from Edgar with 2000 pounds of supplies, and by the time he reached home he had made a trip of about 40 miles, and they would set him out a 50 pound sack of corn meal for his day's work. We had to sift out the mouse nests from some of it before we could eat. We always had plenty of such as it was to keep from starving, but it was corn- bread seven days in the week. We often had callers who were as hungry as we to share the cornbread with, but had nothing with which to pay for what they ate, yet no one was turned away hungry or refused a night's lodging; every man was a brother whether we had ever seen him before or not.

Father traded a neck yoke to a neighbor for a bushel of potatoes. Mother would boil one or two for the younger children, and the older ones would eat the peelings; this would make mother cry, but we did not know we were hurting her feelings by potato peelings.

Sometime in the latter part of the winter or early spring father traded his oxen and wagon for a team of horses and wagon – just changed drivers.

The nearest grist mill was at Hebron, thirty miles away. We had no corn or oats with which to feed the horses, so we got some wheat through the "aid," which we boiled and gave to each animal a quart at a feed, and they did nicely on this ration. Today, what could we do with one small team for breaking prairie and raising a crop? Then, in a short time, we traded for a span of small mules, but they had been overheat and when warm weather came were not much force; these we traded for another team of horses, one of which was said to be balky, but we never saw him balk – these animals were small, in fact most all the horses here at that time were small; I do not remember seeing a team that would weigh over 1200.

The grasshoppers had laid their eggs in the sod in the fall, and during a warm spell of weather the following spring they hatched out, and then we had about three weeks of cold, chilly, rainy weather which caused the 'hoppers to perish. During that time father was setting back the sod and the young 'hoppers would get into the furrow for shelter and by the time the team came around in plowing the 'hoppers were so thick they would cause the horses to slip. If they had been full grown they would have filled the furrow. In the winter we placed a pod of the eggs on a fire-shovel and then poured boiling water on the eggs, and. instead of cooking them, in five minutes we had a full-formed 'hopper in each egg.

During the first year we were here Indian relics were so common we did not take any notice of them. We found lots of arrow-heads and stones for grinding food; we also found brass rings, buckels, a canteen, arrow-points and empty cartridge hulls around the carcass' of the buffalo; in those days many deer and elk horns were quite plentiful, which today would be valuable as relics, but we never thought of saving them, and they lay around the house until lost or picked up by people visiting from other states.

The first five years, from '73 to '78, were the trying times. We never heard a sermon for four years, and had no Bible schools until years after. You look at this country now and see the wealth and everything civilization brings, but you can never realize the cost of it all to the pioneer. I feel like taking off my hat when I meet these old men of courage who had hearts of steel, and who always gave a warm welcome to the stranger in need of food or shelter. In these men and women still is found the greatest hospitality today. There are very few exceptions to these principles of the pioneer life. We cannot show to high appreciation for what they have done for us.