CHAPTER XV.

UNUSUAL WEATHER CONDITIONS.

The storms of early years were frequent and severe, but pioneers seemed to expect intense severity from nature and they were not disappointed. It was necessary to travel, perform work and procure food and they stoically accepted the situation.

Illinois Reports.

I have no fantastic stories to relate which will match the one recorded of the early '40's, in the "Annuals of Illinois." It is reported that the drop in temperature was so sudden that the water-fowl were frozen in the streams. Illinois also leads us in hail storms. A pioneer writer records that in the '50's, during the latter part of June, a hail storm occurred which covered the ground to the depth of a foot, the drifts of which persisted until after the Fourth of July. There are, however, many persons now living (1921) who remember .the terrific winter of '56 and '57, when the blizzards swept northwestern Iowa from late October until the return of spring loosened their gelid grip and poured forth the disastrous floods of May.

Locations.

The shrieking winds and snowy wastes of winter were deemed far more dangerous than the elemental strife of summer or the floods of milder weather. The pioneer's life often depended upon the accuracy of location and resourcefulness in caring for himself. Caution was necessary at all times. The sun and stars were dependable guides. When these were obscured camps were located and hunting parties stationed sentinels to keep clear the north and south

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direction, or some natural object at camp was marked as an indicator.

Wet and Inclement Periods.

An occasional good or bad "spell o' weather"-usually bad-brings out the old settlers' stories of severe storms and inclement weather in the "airly" days.

I remember that in addition to the mild winter of 1848 and 1849, the spring weather was balmy and delightful. Father and Bob Palmer made a trip to Des Moines in the month of March, the year following our arrival. They covered a part of the distance barefooted and minus their coats.

No early spring freshet accompanied the going out of the ice. There had been very little snow and the light rains had settled into the soil. Father was jubilant over the weather and crop prospects and declared he had made no mistake in locating on the Boone river, in Iowa; nor did the subsequent bad seasons' experiences cause him to regret the change from the East to the West.

The wet season of 1851 was not an encouraging one.

Floods resulting from melting snows were augmented by copious rains at ice-passing time and from early May until late July the earth was inundated. The biblical downpour of forty days and nights was exceeded and extended to seventy days; although the hilltops were not covered with water, the lowlands certainly were.

No crops, except turnips, were raised. Sickness prevailed not only in our own family and neighborhood but in the settlements scattered about the country. The state exchequer subsided to the small balance of less than one dollar and fifty cents, and for many months our money-pouch was unfamiliar with coin.

Iowa was classed as a swamp-land state. For many years not a foot of drainage tile was placed. She now has thousands of tons of the in position, hundreds of miles of private tile-drainage and immense dredge-ditches intersect

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the state. With these methods of eliminating moisture the wet season of 1915 produced but half a crop of com; so the predicament of the pioneers over sixty years ago may well be viewed as tragical.

The season of 1858 was a serious one for the settlers. I mention this year, not because it was so much worse than some others, but because more residents remember the conditions and because it marked an epoch in my life-marriage. The worst floods came after seeding-time. Farm lands were submerged, the seed which had been planted was sacrificed and no more could be obtained. The financial panic also was in active operation; but even this dreary outlook did not serve to deter a wedding ceremony in our family and Sarah Brewer became Mrs. Thomas Bonebright by the official authority of Judge J. D. Maxwell.

Various accounts of the crop of 1858 are related by the residents. Alfred Moore asserts that his crop of corn on forty acres was one wagon bed full of nubbins which sold for just enough money to buy the material for a pair of jeans trousers. His oats crop brought the same price and paid for the making of the britches.

The last story teller carries off the palm. Frank Mason discounted Moore by laughingly relating that he raised a crop of but three ears of corn, one large ear and two little nubbins. The rent was to be one-third of the crop so the landlord exacted the big ear of corn. The story, of course, was told to accentuate the thriftiness of the landowner whom everybody recognized.

Big Game Migration.

The terrific snows and intensity of the cold weather of 1852 and 1853 made travel almost impossible. The severe winds and storms from the northwest forced the big game southward. At frequent intervals during the winter great droves of elk and deer were seen making their way through the mountains of snow along the river east of town. Hunters did not molest them except when necessity compelled.

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The difficulty of procuring other food, however, made our menu for many a day to list exclusively: .

Breakfast--Fried or stewed venison.
Dinner-Stewed or fried venison.
Supper--Warmed-over or jerked venison.

The migrating deer herds were followed by the wolf packs. They killed and feasted upon the carcasses of the injured or exhausted animals that dropped behind the moving drove.

Hazel-brush, bramble-thickets and saplings along the path of the moving animals were browsed to the ground or to the snow's surface, and good sized trees were limbed and barked by the hungry, herbivorous beasts. Big game herds never were so numerous in this section after 1853, although there are various portly accounts of deer-killings subsequent to that time.

The winter closed down early and persisted until the icy floods of April. Snow covered the highest fences. To make an estimate of its depth would be to court membership in the Ananias club. A howling blizzard of a week's duration swept over our section, the severity of which far outclassed the one or two days' storms of recent years. The fall of snow at this time was not heavy but the wind blew a gale and found its way into every crevice.

We scarcely had recovered from this "cold-snap" when another siege was upon us. Snow, snow everywhere, and the supply seemed inexhaustible. For a solid week we were confined to the cabin; and it was necessary to use a guide-rope in making a trip to and from the stable. One end of a hempen-line was fastened to the doorsill and the other end held by my brother as he laboriously made his way to the stock-shelter. He secured the rope to the shed corner and the hand-over-hand method furnished safe guidance between the buildings.

The rigorous winter weather was forgotten, however, in the greater inconvenience and dangers of the spring breaking-up. Travel for any considerable distance was un

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thinkable. Families were put on half rations and a system of grinding economy practiced for many weeks.

The season of the Spirit Lake trouble has been described by many historians. The weather was very severe and the roads almost impassable but the same condition was experienced many times during the early years. Storms were usually about the same, but such an incident as being pursued by Indians served to impress upon our minds the large surroundings and accentuate the small and local happenings.

The regular teamsters to Des Moines, Dubuque and Iowa City, one of whom, Tom Bonebright--the head of our family--experienced serious difficulties in making winter trips through the Iowa snow-fields. During the springtime the regular teaming work was abandoned on account of the unfordable streams and impassable condition of the roads. Mr. Bonebright was one of the volunteers who enlisted at the call for assistance at Spirit Lake. His name, with those of the other members of the relief expedition is inscribed on the memorial tablet in the Hamilton county court house.

It frequently happened that heavy snow storms caught cattle away from shelter and the critters perished in the cold. Uncle Peter Lyon, at one time, lost several of his young cattle in that way. They sought relief from the soft, clinging snow-blizzard at a protected spot in a bend of the White Fox creek. The change from mild to freezing weather blinded and stiffened the stock and they were unable to reach home. It would have meant almost certain loss of human life to have instituted search for them.

Our family lost numbers of sheep in blizzards but with windbreaks about the woods-pastures our cattle always pulled through, although no doubt, with difficulty. Literally, we "kept the pigs in the parlor" through the intensely cold spells of the early seasons. The young calves, lambs or pigs were brought into the house and warmed at the fireplace and the best conditioned of them put through the trap

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door into the truck-hole beneath the floor. Here they were comfortable on a bed of hay.

Wood-cutters and hunters suffered severely during storm sieges; but upon the success of their efforts in obtaining food and fuel depended the welfare of their families and themselves. The question may be asked: "Why were not supplies of game and wood provided early in the season?" The answer is easy. To have done so would have meant the neglect of all other work. One who never has chopped wood for a five-foot fireplace cannot realize its consuming capacity when high winds and cold weather prevailed. An enlarged dooryard would have been necessary had we sought to store a winter's supply of wood.

Home facilities for preserving and storing food were none too efficient. We prepared quantities of jerked and dried venison, but without a constant fresh supply the reserve would have lasted but a short time. Continuous and often strenuous activity on the part of hunters was required to furnish game for families of from eight to fourteen members. There was no corner grocery to supply a deficiency of cooking material and we could not borrow from neighbors who, for the time being, were quite as poverty stricken as we.

Near Freezing.

Hez. Van Dorn and Roll Brewer, accompanied by father, made a trip to Eagle creek for big game, and on the way had bagged several fine animals. The early part of the second day the temperature had been near the thawing point with a clinging snow falling. The weather changed suddenly and gave promise of such severity the party decided to return home.

They had not collected camp fuel on account of the mild weather so they knew with the usual storm siege they could not keep up a continuous fire. It meant freeze to death in camp, or perhaps, freeze to death on the return way. The three men decided to take a chance on the latter.

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Traveling became very laborious after a few miles had been covered, and to add to the delay and discomfort the ice gave way as the hunters were crossing the creek. The team and wagon were dropped into the water more than three feet deep and the wagon hammer went to the bottom of the stream. The broken ice at length was cleared away and the team released. The hammer was recovered with the use of a hoe-shaped stick and the journey resumed.

The drop in temperature was rapid. The wet clothing of the hunters formed an icy armor about them. They became so stiffened with cold that no attempt was made to shoot game on the way home.

Two herds of elk passed them along the fringe of timber skirting the river but the animals were more intent on seeking protection from the storm than in trying to escape from the human enemy. At various points other droves had corraled in a sheltered bend or timbered curve. The bunches of from sixty to a hundred and fifty animals rounded themselves up into a compact mass, the whole body constantly moving about the circle but keeping within the contracted space for warmth and protection. From a short distance the horns of the large herds reminded one of a forest of small trees.

Frequent stops were made to loosen the frozen coating which formed over the noses and eyes of the team. The legs of the weary beasts were severely lacerated and bleeding from breaking through the icy snow-crust. Roll made every step of the way on foot and drove the team. Hez. lost his strength along with his courage. He was sure his fate was to freeze to death so he was wrapped in the robes and quilts and kept as well sheltered in the wagon-box as possible. Father, in his effort to save Van Dom was badly frozen on the breast, arms and legs.

The party, after great discomfort, reached the hill north of town where Aunt Nancy Stanley then lived. Pap had to be lifted from the wagon and carried into the house. The clothing had frozen to his flesh where the garments

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pressed upon him, and his movements had torn the skin in many places.

The half-barrel tanning-vat was half-filled with water from the spring. Father was placed in the vat and cold water poured over his head and the upper portion of his body. As the frost gradually drew out a coating of ice formed over the frozen parts of his anatomy. The water-cure was continued until the icy coat melted, after which he was undressed carefully, given a "horn" of whisky and put to bed.

Father suffered some inconvenience from the experience but often asserted that his limbs--if not his life--were saved by the simple but severe treatment. Van Dorn escaped with a frozen nose and ear. Roll says this trip was the longest ten miles he ever traveled.

Death by Freezing.

Soon after the arrival of the Downings one of the family lost his life while hunting near the head waters of the Boone. My father and Bob Downing, in a liesurely trip, had followed the river northward into Hancock county. They pitched their tents, trailed game through the day and returned to camp at nightfall. The weather had been squally-cloudy, spitting snow, clearing and clouding again. Toward sunset, while they were some miles from camp, the sky became lightly overcast and the directions were confused by Downing. Father said:

"Bob, it would be a mighty good evening for tracking, but I'm tired; maybe we'd better turn around and pull into camp. "

"Turn around!" laughed Bob. "Well, we're headed straight for camp now. The treats are on you, Wils, for you're on the wrong trail."

"Not much," replied father; "I never was lost before, and I'm not lost now. If you think our camp is in front of us, it's you who are lost; and I'll stake my life on my accuracy of location."

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"All right," returned Bob, "I'm as sure of my location as you are of yours, so you can take your chance and I'll take mine, and we'll talk it over tomorrow."

They jokingly parted company. My father, retracing his steps, reached camp in safety but Downing did not return.

Unfortunately a "skift" of snow fell during the night effectually obliterating the footprints of the wandering hunter, and although father persevered in the lonely search for several days the snow-mantled prairies and the immensity of space to be covered precluded the possibility of finding his comrade and the search was reluctantly abandoned.

We hoped for many weeks, for a report that Downing had located a hunter's camp or had been picked up by a band of Indians, but the report did not come. A few seasons later some human bones, a number of brass buttons, powder-flask, bullet-bottle and a gun with weather-worn stock were found beneath a lone tree on the bank of the Boone. The conviction that Downing had been frozen to death was confirmed.

Death by Freezing.

Peter Lyon, Major Brassfield, Jim Jenkms and Wils' Brewer formed a party for a holiday hunt in 1852. A storm compelled them to go into camp on White Fox creek a few miles north of town. Hoping that the blizzard soon would pass the hunters did not try to return home. The day had yielded little in the way of game supply. The weather was not yet severe, so Jenkins shouldered his musket and said he would circle through the woods and bag some birds for breakfast. The men in camp, meanwhile, busied themselves collecting firewood and placing poles and brush against the creek's bank for protection.

The storm soon began in earnest and a three days' siege was on. At nightfall Jenkins had not returned and the howling blasts of the blizzard sweeping about their shel-

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ter accentuated the heart-chilling anxiety of his waiting comrades who were powerless to lend him aid. They quieted their fears somewhat with the thought that he might have found shelter in some natural nook or followed the creek and river trail back to his home.

As soon as the storm abated the three men broke camp. Ascertaining that Jenkins had not reached home a searching party was organized. More than a foot of snow had fallen, and in the bottoms had drifted much deeper. This fact made the outcome of the search seem obvious before it was begun.

The blanket of white remained on the ground throughout the winter. The following spring a partly dismembered human skelteton, the sundered musket-stock and barrel and the bones of a wolf were found about a mile from where the men had camped. Jenkins must have been bewildered by the storm and benumbed with cold when he was attacked and devoured by wolves.

Blizzard.

A hunting and trapping party composed of Jack Frakes, George Wilcox, Hez Van Dorn and Roll Brewer traversed Hamilton, Humboldt, Palo Alto and Emmet counties in '56, seeking the rapidly disappearing game. The boys left home soon after election and planned to return before Christmas. I mention this late expedition because it was the season of my father's death.

They had met with scant success and decided to strike for Big Island grove in Emmet county. The snow was heavy on the ground and the early part of the trip had been stormy. The farther north they went the deeper became the snow. The last week of the up trip the weather was fine, but traveling was tedious and provisions had dwindled to one ration daily.

They reached the lake and found ideal conditions for trapping. Shelter was prepared and two of the party--Roll and George--were to take the trail for the Irish settle-

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ment, about a day's travel to the southeast, for supplies. Being familiar with the uncertainty of Iowa weather it was agreed that if a storm arose within twenty-four hours the two men in camp must look out for themselves. The other two would not attempt to return. The boys set forth on the trip amid the glories of a winter's sunset. Scarcely had the stars appeared before the clouds obscured them and the air became a sheet of white torn into a million fragments by the piercing, screaming blizzard.

Marking the direction of the wind and assuming that it would hold its course long enough for them to reach their destination, they pressed on. Late at night fatigue and freezing weather forced them to stop. A hole was dug into the side of a huge snowdrift for shelter. Fearing a possible shift of the wind and consequent bewilderment Roll and George--in order to keep their bearings-- set stakes and alternately beat a north and south sentry track throughout the night. At daybreak, accurately having reckoned their directions, they journeyed onward and late at night reached the friendly shelter.

Frakes and Van Darn, at Big Island, grew uneasy and became quite anxious to make the acquaintance of the Hibernian pioneers. In the morning they packed their trapping equipment into the wagon-box to be left behind. Jack took the lead afoot. Hez mounted one horse and led the other. At intervals the guide and follower changed places. After severe suffering they reached the settlement several hours after the walkers had arrived.

The storm continued for five days and was one of the most terrific ever experienced in northern Iowa. The four hunters reached home a few days before father's death in December. George Wilcox, relating the experience, declared "It was luck instead of good sense that saved us."

Pioneer trappers preferred walking to riding. They could keep warmer, make better time-especially in deep snow-and the chances of becoming lost were lessened by traveling afoot. Many teamsters walked beside their horses after roads were well established.

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The company outfit of traps, harness and furs which the boys had left at Big Island was not recovered until the following spring when Roll and Tom Bonebright made the trip to bring them home. They arrived at their destination early in the evening and were busily gathering wood for a camp-fire near the fringe of brush which skirted the lake. A large cow elk came slowly into the open and challenged their marksmanship. Tom fired and wounded but did not kill her. Taking the trail into the under brush they followed and found her dying at the hiding place of a recently dropped calf. The beautiful newly born creature was not in the least afraid. He licked the hands of the men and followed them like a dog. They decided to take the little creature home with them, captive, but during the night he wandered out of sight and his trail could not be found. For the perpetuation of the species nature very wisely provides that until several weeks old a deer or elk gives off no scent which the olfactories of a dog can follow.

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Chapter 16