Tag Archives: Trappers

Visiting the Trader

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When there were trappers and mountain men staying in the fort for awhile it was time for them to replace worn out gear, maybe buy a new pistol or rifle if they got a good price for their pelts. And to decide to pick up anything they thought would make life easier when they were out on the trail.

This old boy decided he needed a new pistol to balance out the one he wore on the other side of his sash. Now today this would be a rather simple matter. He’d go into a gun shop and choose the appropriate gun then meet the following easy requirements.

  • The buyer must be a current citizen of the United States or a permanent resident (green card holder).
  • The buyer must not be under indictment for a crime punishable by a year in prison, or to have been previously convicted of a crime with a similar punishment.
  • The buyer must not have a current restraining filed by an intimate partner or child, and the buyer must not have been convicted of domestic violence. This means that ex-wife. The mean one.
  • The buyer must not be a fugitive, or a user of controlled substances.
  • The buyer must not be committed currently to a mental institution. Or have done really crazy stuff like Andy Stillson shooting off Lars the Earless’s ear.* This last requirement would have caused a certain amount of apprehension for the buyer as it was thought that you had to be a little crazy to be a mountain man in the first place.

Then complete the following.

You’ll need to furnish a photo ID and fill out Form 4473. This is used to confirm your status as a citizen who is qualified to own a firearm in the United States. Then a background check is made. While this is going on you wait. Sometimes the retailer provides comfortable seating while you wait, sometimes you wait in your car listening to country and western music, sometimes you just go home and they call you to inform you that you are indeed a splendid fellow and worthy to buy a gun. So you race back there to pick up your brand new weapon.

When the image above was taken things were much more difficult. To buy a weapon during this time the customer went to see the trader in his store there in the fort, tried to bargain him down from the outrageous price the customer thought the trader was charging, and the trader did his best to convince the customer of the incredible deal he was getting, and the third guy stood there at the ready to whack one or both of them on them on the forehead with his Hawkins 50 if the negotiations got out of hand.

Once the price was set the buyer would many times load the weapon, walk over to the door, and shoot one of the chickens roaming around in the plaza to see how good the gun worked. It usually worked just fine. Payment was concluded and that was that. He owned a new pistol. Difficult I know but you got to remember these were the old days. Things were harder then.

So it’s up to you. Do you want the easy way of doing things like we have today, or do you want the old difficult way they had back then. Course if you choose the old difficult way, you have to go back there. That means new leather clothes, moccasins, mules or horses, a quick course in how to trap animals, and how to get along with the neighbors out in their lodges. Let us know what you decide.

*http://www.bigshotsnow.com/waitin-on-friends/

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.

Scouting New Country

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During the 1830’s there was a lot of movement by those courageous men seeking opportunities in the west. Trappers, traders, adventurers, and others, stricken with the desire and wanderlust of being first to see what was over the next mountain, or lying at the bottom of the innumerable valleys between them. What riches could be found, what adventures were lurking just around the next bend waiting to change their lives forever.

Everything was new to them and usually dangerous. This group of men on the scout were picking their way through the high country, perhaps looking for new trade routes, or a likely place where gold or silver might be found. Or possibly marking the area where the Indians had set up their camps as places to be avoided.

One thing for certain, they were the ones scouting this new country for whatever opportunities presented themselves in this time where new beginnings could bring wealth and a better life in this big, new country of the West.