Primitive Scouts and Cross-Time Encounters

[Timestepper]

I'm throwing this into the mix here simply to offer up a bit of an alternative to the modern survival mindset. I've nothing against modern survival methods, in fact I think more and more that a mix of modern and primitive methods is probably the way to go. At least for me.

I wrote this article for Muzzle Blasts magazine back in '04 (while still in Western Kansas - long before I ever thought of moving to East Tennessee) and, while it is chronicle more than how-to, the information contained might still be of some use. If not as a guideline, then at least as a way of understanding the mindset of those who choose an alternative way.

Hope you find it useful.

...TS...

*NOTE* John Curry, mentioned in the opening lines, has been an avid student of the eighteenth century frontier for 37 years and has organized and lead many historic forays into wilderness areas. He has written for several muzzle loading and living history magazines including Muzzle Blasts, Smoke and Fire, On the Trail, Dixie Gun Works, Black Powder Annual and Muzzleloader. Though we knew each other by reputation and writing, I didn't have the honor of meeting John in person until 2004 shortly after this article was published. For those interested, any article by him will be well worth the read.

A Kansas Kind of Experience

(Primitive Scouts and cross time encounters.)

Author’s note: Kansas, while not generally thought of when one speaks of mountain men and the fur trade, is none the less very rich in history. Containing a large portion of the Santa Fe Trail, Kansas has served as a gateway both to and from the western mountains since the time of Zebulon Pike and before.

“I’ll bet John Curry doesn’t do it like this!” my partner grumbled as he tossed another stick on the fire and artfully dodged yet another leak in our hastily thrown together “lean twice.” “John Curry doesn’t have to do it like this,” I reminded him. “John Curry has hills and trees and rockcastles to shelter in. We, on the other hand, have a fallen down willow and a six foot sand bank on the Arkansas River in west-central Kansas. Besides, John’s an Eastern long hunter and we, my friend are by-gawd Mountain men!”

My partner, Cord Sprague, and I were on a two day primitive trek/hunt along the Arkansas River in Pawnee County, Kansas. We’d selected this particular location for a number of reasons. First, having been born and raised in a small town not far away, I was intimately familiar with the terrain. Second, the Arkansas, though dry in this area except for beaver ponds, is still considered to be a Federal waterway. This means that except for points if ingress and egress, as long as we stay within the confines of the river banks, we cross no property lines and therefore need have no worry about accidental trespass. And there is a wonderful amount of brush laden sand bars between the banks, providing exceptional hunting opportunities. Third, and perhaps most importantly, we were only a few miles south of the Santa Fe Trail in a historically rich region. It was not far from here where a young Kit Carson was said to have shot his own mule while on guard duty. Of course historians have since proven this to be no more than a tall tale, but still, knowing that Carson, as well as a great many others had camped and hunted almost within a stone’s throw adds greatly to the experience.

Earlier that afternoon we’d dressed in buckskins and moccasins, picked up our smokepoles shouldered our tumpline bedrolls and said goodbye to the 21^st century. We hiked and hunted for the better part of 4 miles until, caught by darkness; we made a quick camp in the lee of the north bank.

Now there’s something you ought to know about my partner and I and our primitive hunts and that is that it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last moisture fell from the sky, or how oppressive the drought – When we go out, it rains! Not just buckets, but wagon loads! Honestly! In all the times we’ve gone out, it has never failed to rain at least one night. Our first night out on this particular occasion was no exception.

Typically, we’ll build long fire pits then cover the coals with a layer of sand for sleeping purposes, but owing to a 21^st century Dr.’s appointment earlier that day, we’d gotten a late start and had to “make do.” The rain quit during the night and the sun was almost shining the next morning as we rolled out of our blankets, making for a somewhat brighter, if considerably colder, day. And after a breakfast of dried pears, smoked bacon and coffee, we sat about improving our shelter. We’d draped our ground sheets over a large blown down willow the night before and decided that with a few improvements this same spot could be made quite homey. After building a framework of branches from the willow to the bank, we draped several arm loads of long stemmed prairie grass over the top and weighted it all down with a layer of logs. The result was a shelter which was quite cozy and dry, even if not overly roomy. The point is that it suited our needs and was produced in a historically accurate fashion and it wasn’t long before we were referring to it as home, sweet home. (Both of us being rather tall and the shelter rather short, we also referred to it by a few less flattering names!)

Breakfast eaten and shelter finished, we spent the next several hours hunting. This particular outing having been in the middle of January meant that there were still several hunting seasons open. Rabbit, squirrel, pheasant and quail among them. Equipped with an original (ca.1832) double barrel 12 gauge percussion shotgun and a little iron mounted .40 cal. Mowrey, the rabbits and squirrels didn’t stand much of a chance. Cord even made a beautiful running head shot on one rabbit that had gotten past me and the shotgun. On the way back to camp, we “met up with” three modern horsemen and invited them to camp to sit and jaw awhile.

Amazed at first at our mode of dress and our guns, the riders were intrigued and interested in our camp and various accoutrements and we spent nearly two hours talking with them, even showing them how to start a fire with flint and steel. When they left they thanked us for our hospitality and said how glad they were that they’d seen us. We neglected to tell them that we’d had them under observation for nearly thirty minutes before they “spotted” us. I might point out here that while we are in no way hostile to the public or other hunters, our general rule is that it is always better to “see them before they see us,” then if we choose to make contact, it is on terms and terrain which we have chosen. This not only helps keep misunderstandings to a minimum, but is also in keeping with the laws of survival during the time period we are striving to re-create.

After our company left, we built up the fire and settled in for a delicious and well earned supper of roasted rabbit and squirrel with homemade fruit leather for desert. Later, over steaming cups of tea, we couldn’t help but laugh as we recalled the looks of dis-belief on the faces of the horsemen as we’d stepped from the brush that afternoon. And it was with no small amount of pride that we realized we’d done things exactly in the manner of Jedediah Smith and others of his ilk who’d been through this same stretch of country more than 160 years before.

After a good night’s sleep, it was time to once again shoulder our bedrolls, grab guns and shooting bags and move out. This time, unfortunately, we were headed back towards the 21^st century, rather than away from it. All in all our outing was a success, despite the rain, and we are looking forward to many more primitive outings in the years to come.

Although there are a good many in Kansas who prefer the time period of the Eastern long hunter, there are even more who emulate the western mountain man of the early 1800’s. My friend, Cord and I fit into the latter category and our gear and accoutrements are based almost entirely upon that premise.

Our clothing is simple, consisting of buckskin breeches and leggings, with calico or walnut dyed linen shirts over flannel “union suits.” Our outfits are completed with moccasins and felt slouch hats. In colder temperatures, a coyote hat, buckskin war shirts and woolen blanket capote or blanket poncho are added.

Our camping gear consists simply of tightly rolled tumpline bed rolls enabling us to comfortably carry our personal items securely tucked inside or tied to the outside. Generally we each carry flint and steel, gourd canteens, copper billy can with lid, horn spoon, a small amount of coffee and/or tea along with dried fruit, parched corn or cornmeal, pemmican and/or a few squares of hardtack with an occasional slab of home cured bacon. The type of fruit we take varies somewhat, but I generally prefer dried pears. Though less common on the 1800’s plains than apples and not as historically correct, I prefer using pears in colder temperatures simply because of the higher caloric content. Of course during hunting season, we tend to carry less food relying instead upon our ability to procure small game along the way.

During our outings we have very few rules, but adhere to those rules strictly. They are:

1.) Abide by any and all hunting/fishing/conservation laws even at the cost of period authenticity.

2.) Always have permission to be where you are. When in doubt about land ownership, either ask or go somewhere else.

3.) Never be taken by surprise. Always see others before they see you.

4.) Have fun! Laugh at your partner when he slips on a beaver slide and gets wet up to his waist. Laugh at yourself when you forget to duck and the limb in front of you smacks you in the forehead. Laugh when it rains for the 9^th time in a row and hope it’s dry on the 10^th.

5.) If you encounter the public, be gracious. Explain what you are doing and why it’s important to you. Offer to demonstrate the use of your rifle or how to start a fire with flint and steel. It is these types of encounters which can help us to gain new areas to camp/hunt. If nothing else, it helps show that we’re really not part of some lunatic fringe. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll have a new convert into doing things the old way.

Edited December 12, 2011 by Timestepper

[Guest Scramasax]

Glad you shared this perspective. I used to go primative in the past. It was the practical extenision of my love for history. I went so far as building a bark canoe and all of my kit. If one is truly serious about survival skills. He should study the arts of pre-industrial pioneers. It is dirty, sometimes cold, wet and miserable. Also peaceful ,spiritual and satisfying. Not Virtual reality but real life. Fortunatly I have lived longer than I might with modern medical science and at least got to experience the wilderness in a way most do'nt.

Watch yer topknot, ts

[Timestepper]

Glad you shared this perspective. I used to go primative in the past. It was the practical extenision of my love for history. I went so far as building a bark canoe and all of my kit. If one is truly serious about survival skills. He should study the arts of pre-industrial pioneers. It is dirty, sometimes cold, wet and miserable. Also peaceful ,spiritual and satisfying. Not Virtual reality but real life. Fortunatly I have lived longer than I might with modern medical science and at least got to experience the wilderness in a way most do'nt.

Watch yer topknot, ts

Very well put, friend Beowulf!

Keep yer nose to th' wind!

Edited December 12, 2011 by Timestepper