Tag Archives: Mountain men

Anybody Seen A Mule

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Anyone seen a mule? He’s 19 hands tall, sort of a creamy color with a big dark splotch on his face, one ear’s been chewed on pretty good and he’s got two different colored eyes. Tends to be moody and prone to bite. Occasionally answers to the name of Get Back Here.

Mountain men have a special relationship with their animals. They need them for every thing they do from riding them, packing on them, helping to keep watch at night by causing all kind of hell if there’s something around that shouldn’t be. Plus they’re good companions. Normally they’re well behaved and tend to stay close to their owners.

There are exceptions however, and old Get Back Here is a prime example of just how contrary they can be. He’s a master of the quick escape. Hobble him and he can jump walk three miles by morning. Tie him to a picket line and he’ll get that knot loose like Houdini. Stake him out on a tether and come morning he’s gone, stakes gone and you’re on foot thinking, just how tough would mule meat actually be.

Course the rest of the fellows in the group are going to make comments and suggestions about how to handle that mule. Nobody will laugh outright at him because the mules owner has been known to be unpredictable after he’s chased that mule all over the canyon.

He’s going to be fortunate this morning because some of the boys that were watering their own stock down at the creek latched on to him and he was soon back in camp. History does not relate what happened or was said between mule and owner but that’s probably a good thing. There’s a lot of sensitive folks that read the blog and we’re pretty darn careful about offending them.

Waitin’ On Friends

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After a long winter of solitary life the Mountain men and trappers could not wait for the summer rendezvous to take place. There they would get to see old friends that they hadn’t talked to for a year, maybe more, and let off some steam. They had a lot to talk about. Where the trapping was good and the plews (hides) were plenty. Who wasn’t there and did his hair get lifted. Which tribes were friendly this season and where to stay away from if you knew what was good for you. And whether or not the traders had brought in enough tobaccy and whiskey.

I sort of threw that whiskey in there like an afterthought but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Whiskey was all they thought about when they were standing knee deep in the freezing water of some creek back behind no where. Well, maybe they thought of women a little but it had been so long since they had seen one, at least a white one anyway, it didn’t pay to spend time thinking about them. No, whiskey is what they thought of. How gloriously they were going to get monumentally drunk. Thinking of whiskey is was what filled their days. If they were sitting around the campfire on the rare occasion that a friend showed up, they would talk of the rendezvous and the outrageous drunks they had been on. How Andy Stillson had convinced Lars, the Earless, Who had got his ear chewed off in a fight, to let him shoot a cup of whiskey off his head to show everybody what a great shot he was and promptly blew off Lars’ other ear. Man, they laughed at that one every time it was brought up and it was brought up enough to become legend amongst the campfire crowd.

When they did make rendezvous the most favorite pastime was drinking huge, prodigious amounts of whiskey. They also would have foot races, horse races, card playing, wrestling, shooting sports, or just plain shooting for the sheer joy of it. They told stories, some of which were true, they threw knives at targets, hatchets too, traded mules and horses, got new gear, and spent nearly every penny they had made through the winter. But mostly they liked to drink whiskey.

When supplies began to run low and the rendezvous was thinking about drawing to a close any body that had squirreled away some whiskey was the man of the hour and seriously sought after by his friends both old and new. He was invited to all the doings and hailed and treated as a most splendid fellow. At least as long as the spirits held out.

The gentlemen above are waitin’ on friends that managed to keep a bottle or two from getting consumed and had promised to share them with their new found buddies. The shadows are getting long so by the time this night is over they will have had the last of it, maybe not a drunk to make it into the legendary category but a good one none the less. Tomorrow brings a new day. Time to start tearing down camps, packing horses and deciding where they’ll head off to this time. It’s been a great rendezvous, one for the stories of future campfires.

Ol’ Whistlebutt No. 39

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Many of you that don’t know much about the lives of Mountain men, trappers, traders, and adventurers of the mid 19th century, tend to think that they didn’t have much to do when they were hanging around the fort. That they had little responsibility and no one to answer to. After all they had turned in their hides, made their trades, told their stories and were free to just be shiftless and no account if they felt like it and some of them did. However for the more seasoned among them nothing could be further from the truth.

They had responsibilities. Big ones some times. There were plenty of things that had to be seen to and followed up. Take walking around the inside of the fort for instance. Someone had to be on the look out for tripping hazards such as drunken trappers, trappers were notorious for drinking themselves legless and thus just collapsing where they happened to be, or those with bullet holes in them, an irregular but unfortunate occurrence, and unclaimed burro droppings that could be stepped on in the dark of night. They didn’t have to clean those up, they had staff for that but they needed to be on top of it so that it was handled, so to speak.

And what about making sure the neer-do-wells hogging up all the space in the bar, sitting on all the best stools like they belonged there, were dispersed in a timely manner. Some of those guys would be in there from early morning until late in the afternoon when the professional drinkers got there. That was just uncalled for. Someone had to spell out the rules for these Johnny-come-lately’s before the whole place went to rack and ruin. That’s where seniority came into play. Being old timers and regulars they could just toss them out on their keesters with impunity.

But the single most important duty they had, without question, was making certain the liquor served was the best possible stuff that could be obtained. Many a bartender thinking to make a little extra cash at the expense of the regular hardcore visitors would tinker with the spirits, adding turpentine or rattlesnake squeezing’s to the bottle to top them off to make a few extra bucks, who then soon found themselves at the displeasure of these brook-no-nonsense senior patrons and minus a nose tip or ear.

That’s why several of the most senior, dedicated and experienced drinkers among the current residents would take it upon themselves to sample all the latest fine spirits that had arrived to test them for purity and remarkability. Here we see a couple of them fulling their duties and making sure the spirits were not only up to snuff but safe for others to drink. Think of them as early Food and Drug Administration inspectors. After sampling several bottles to make sure of their findings they pronounced Ol’ Whistlebutt No. 39 to be an excellent choice and safe enough for the less experienced drinkers to partake. Just another example where they fulfilled their responsibilities when they were in residence at the fort. I think we all owe them a round of applause for their steadfast adherence to the health and safety of all. Thank you men.

Christmas Festival at Bent’s Old Fort – The Blacksmith

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One frigidly cold night at Bent’s Old Fort out on the nearly deserted plains of Southeast Colorado, it was 12° in the plaza. It was the celebration of Christmas and the fort was decorated with evergreen boughs brought down from the mountains and hung on all the post holding up the second story deck. There were ribbons and Christmas decorations in the various rooms and the festive feelings of the holidays were everywhere. Under the empty cloudless sky brimming with stars whose light did little to provide warmth, log fires burned around the grounds valiantly trying to keep the cold away and provide light. It worked if you stood right up next to the fires, so close you risked setting yourself on fire, but at the time that didn’t seem like a bad idea. It was the annual Christmas Festival at the fort and the crowds filling up the central plaza hadn’t been there long enough to let the cold seep into their bones.

Shadows of the people casually milling around the open plaza were cast up onto the towering adobe walls. Mountain men and women carrying lanterns with candles inside kept tours of guests moving from one room to the next as their various occupants within explained their jobs, their lives, and how things were when the fort was in use back in the early 1800’s.

The rooms quickly filled up as the groups entered and clustered together for warmth. As the rooms were not heated in many cases, the more people gathered together the better and warmer it felt. Some places had small adobe fireplaces in the rooms that gave off heat as long as you kept them stoked with the split wood that appeared to be in endless supply. For some reason it took the tours a little longer to go through those heated rooms than the ones that were unheated.

There was one place however that was very popular. The Blacksmith shop. The roaring fire in the forge, the ringing of the hammer against the anvil, the lanterns hung about with their glowing dancing candlelight, the gathering groups of people all eager to soak up the warmth of the shop. Many questions were asked of the blacksmith and his assistant, so many in fact that the tour leaders had to move one group out so the next could enter. It was amazing how much folks wanted to know about the art of blacksmithing especially when someone would open the door letting that refreshing 12° air into the room. The door would quickly be shut and the blacksmith would pull the chain on the huge bellows and the fire in the forge would come roaring back to life again shooting sparks up the adobe brick chimney like a Roman candle.

The project in the shop that evening was creating delicate hammered iron hooks, hand-fashioned and bent and pounded into shape by the skilled hands of the blacksmith. Knowing the exact color needed in the heated metal rods he would pull them out of the fire, place them on the anvil and strike with his small heavy hammer until they were formed exactly as he needed them to be. The process was fascinating. It was mesmerizing and almost hypnotic watching the gorgeous red metal slowly fade to a darker shade until it had to be placed back in the forge and be reheated.

The Christmas Festival at Bent’s Old Fort was a wonderful event. After a while the crowds seemed to forget about the cold as the warmth of the season and the good fellowship of the folks sharing their love of the fort and its history spread throughout the plaza. All of the guests seemed to have a great time and enjoyed immensely the atmosphere of a treasured part of history. If you get the opportunity to attend the Christmas Festival at Bent’s Old Fort don’t miss it, the memories will stay with you forever.

Looking To The Future

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It’s at the end of the day at the Green River Rendezvous. The night fires have been started, meals are being prepared, it’s a quiet time where folks wander out onto the green and talk a little. In a little while the kids will be sent to bed and the grownups will gather to sing and tell stories and laugh and talk about the good old days. But right now it’s time for a little introspection. A time to hold a loved one.  To think about what the future might bring and to wonder if all will be well. It will be of course, but still when you hold that small bundle of love and feel that tiny beating heart next to yours you wonder. What does the future hold. Goodness, we hope, love, maybe even happiness.

Woman On Horseback Crow Fair

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                                  click image to enlarge

This is a portrait is of a woman on horseback in the Sunday morning parade held during Crow fair. The original photo was taken during the 2014 fair. It has been enhanced to appear as if it is a painting in the style of the old masters and was done to bring out the beauty and strength of the subject and to feature her regalia in the best possible light. Be sure to click on the image to see it full size on your monitor.

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Crow Fair, called the “Tipi Capital of the World,” is an annual event held the third weekend in August on the Crow Reservation at Crow Agency in Montana. It is one of the largest Native American events in North America and is run by a committee of the Crow tribe. There can be over a thousand teepees set up during the fair, along with parades, powwows, rodeos and other events too numerous to mention. To see more posts about Crow Fair simply type in CROW into the search box at the top of the page and hit enter. There are dozens of posts about Crow Fair with many pictures to show all aspects of the fair. Also be sure to visit our sister site http://www.OpenChutes.com to see more posts of Western Events. OpenChutes is a blog exclusively dedicated to Powwows, Rodeos, Cowboys, Indians, Indian Relay Races, Mountain Men, Rendezvous and any other western event that may occur in the Rocky Mountain West. Enjoy your visit.

He Who Watches

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This post has been moved to OpenChutes.com. All future postings of Powwows, Indian Relay Races, Rodeos and Rendezvous will be posted there from now on exclusively. So if you’re looking for new images and posts for all those events attended this year, plus all the old posts posted on BigShotsNow.com check out OpenChutes.com. See you there!

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16th Annual Indian Market and Powwow at  The Fort Restaurant

This past weekend, May 14th and 15th, was the 16th Annual Indian Market and Powwow held at the Fort restaurant in Morrison Colorado. It was an incredible affair with Indian vendors showing off amazing art and jewelry, members of various tribes participating in the accompanying powwow and re-enactors dressed as people of the late 1800’s telling stories of times long past. There were informational exhibits that portrayed life in the 1800’s and various Raptors were on display as well. The fact that the setting included the extraordinary Red Rocks that made this area famous as a backdrop just made a good thing better. All in all an exciting event and a great time was had by all.

Jeremy is one of the re-enactors and greeted those arriving through the main entrance in a welcoming but stoic manner. Mountain men tended to be somewhat taciturn when amongst town folk anyway. They were more comfortable in the high country, but like you and I, came to town occasionally to see the sights. Costumes of the period were extremely well done as were the regalia worn by the powwow participants.  This is an extremely interesting gathering and the atmosphere and architecture of The Fort Restaurant is more than worth the trip itself. Especially if you get to order one their Buffalo Burgers.

Over the next few weeks we will be bringing you more images of the Powwow and other events from the Tesoro Indian Market and Powwow featuring Powwow participants from the various tribes that attended and other events that took place. Over 50 tribes were represented plus drum groups and singers to round out the festivities, so there was plenty to see, hear and enjoy.

If you get a chance to attend this event make sure you do, you don’t want to miss experiencing this spectacular event held at the Fort Restaurant. Even if the Indian Market is not happening treat yourself to a wonderful meal. It’s worth the trip.