Died with Boots On--TRIP 3 (2012)

Scenic Oklahoma terrain looks less like the Great Plains
than we had expected.

"I think today will be our last day of warm," said Andy, as we set out west from Clinton, Oklahoma. He was probably right. A bright sun warmed the ground, as we watched cattle ranches, wheat fields and red rock outcroppings zip by.
The windmills at a wind farm near Hammon turned silently in the early morning breeze, a hundred white tri-blades slicing the air for clean energy.  They all faced south.  "I wouldn't have expected that," said Andy. "West, yes. And it's interesting that they were not running yesterday afternoon when the winds were much stronger. I guess they must have a lock system."

Hundreds of wind turbines line
the horizon.

"So too much wind could damage the blades?" I asked.
"Yup. Rip them right off their bases. I read it doesn't take much wind to make them turn," he said.
On the west side of Hammon, fields of yellow flowers grew on both sides of the road. "I'm guessing that's not so good," said Andy. "I'll bet those fields are overgrazed."
Here and there oil pumps chugged up and down. Andy pointed out that some tanks looked old and rusted, while others looked newly installed. "With all the new techniques for extraction," he said, "these old fields are once again producing."  He wasn't necessarily suggesting that fracking had been done here, but the ranchers definitely benefited from new technology in the oil business. "I think oil is keeping some of these ranchers in business," he said.  Cattle grazed as automatic pumps worked away. We saw one farmer pull his truck with water tanks in the bed out toward the field of Black Angus. "It's dry here," said Andy. "He's bringing water out to the animals."

Sadly, this beautiful landscape represents death of the Cheyenne
and the end of their way of life on the Great Plains.

At the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site and Black Kettle National Grassland, history intertwined with the geography and the land.
As eastern Indian tribes were forced into the Oklahoma Territory in the 1800's, they threatened the tribes of the Great Plains, who lived by gathering and following buffalo, more so than by farming. There was little actual conflict until the 1860's when Manifest Destiny saw more and more gold-seekers and land-hungry settlers penetrate the Great Plains and encroach on tribal hunting grounds.
Chief Black Kettle, leader of the Cheyenne, pursued a policy of peace with whites and believed his village to be under U.S. Army protection. But on November 29, 1864, his village on Sand Creek in the Colorado Territory was attacked and destroyed by troops under the command of Colonel J.M. Chivington. In spite of a massive public outcry against the Army, the Indians retaliated in "dog raids," particularly by young Cheyenne, Arapaho and Lakota warriors. To defend their way of life they attacked wagon trains, stagecoaches, mining camps and settlements.

The fruit of prickly pear cactus
are food sources for
animals and people alike. 

The Treaty of Little Arkansas (October 17, 1865) and the Treaty of Medicine Lodge (October, 1867) actually made matters worse. Many tribal officials refused to sign. Some who did sign had no authority to compel their people to comply. Congress was slow to ratify treaties, and the promised annuities, including food, clothing and supplies, often failed to arrive. Finally a frustrated Major General Philip  H. Sheridan ordered Lieutenant Colonel George Custer to set out from Camp Supply with 700 7th Cavalry troopers and a dozen Osage scouts on November 23, 1868, to end the hostile Indian raids. Sheridan's plan was a bold and inventive winter campaign designed to catch the Indians when least mobile and most vulnerable. He targeted the tribes reportedly in the Washita River valley.
Custer followed Sheridan's plan. He found Black Kettle's village removed from the others, the tribe almost ostracized because of Black Kettle's stance about keeping peace. A bugle sounded "Charge!" at dawn and the cavalry troops came splashing across the frigid Washita River into the sleeping Cheyenne camp. Custer led the largest of four battalions. The others surrounded the encampment of tepees. Soldiers drove the Cheyenne from their lodges, barefoot and half-clothed, mostly women, children and elderly. When the firing ceased two hours later, about 40 Cheyenne and 22 soldiers lay dead in the snow and mud. Custer took 53 women and children captive and butchered more than 800 ponies and mules, crippling the entire way of life of the Cheyenne people. In addition, by burning their lodges, he destroyed all their winter supply of food and clothing. Black Kettle and his wife were slaughtered trying to escape. Other tribes capitulated almost immediately.

The Battle was really a massacre of innocent Cheyenne;
today the land is sacred.

"It's so sad what we did to the American Indians," said Andy after the 27-minute movie. "At every turn they were terribly mistreated."
As we walked the trails, we noticed the prayer flags, the only evidence that this land is sacred to Indians today. A sign reminded visitors, "It is culturally insensitive to take photographs of prayer flags."  I put away the camera. There had been no such suggestion at Devils Tower two years ago.
"Different Indians," said Andy.
"And probably different situation, as well," I said.
The Battlefield adjoins the Grasslands and the two are intricately connected. Black Kettle's massacre marked the end of the domination of the prairie by Plains Indians. In the ensuing two years three million bison were slaughtered in this area. The carcasses rotted on the Plains.  White settlers cleared the land to plant corn, not appreciating the fragile soil and windswept terrain. Their ignorance led to the Dust Bowl of the 1930's. The worst storm was called Black Sunday, on April 14, 1935. It drove more than 4,000 Okies to California by 1940 and prompted John Steinbeck to write The Grapes of Wrath.  He must have known some of this history.  Then the government sent in 500 men from the Works Progress Administration, 50 boys from the Civilian Conservation Corps and 60 boys from the National Youth Administration to plant 200 miles of trees as windbreaks and shrubs and grasses as soil protectors. Even today those lines of Osage orange trees form barriers. But what a garbage tree to plant!

The valley of the Washita shows the
dryness of extreme drought.

We talked with Jennifer and Ranger Teresa.  They answered my questions and pointed out the fields of winter wheat in the distance, a gorgeous scene outside the panoramic windows of the Visitor Center. "Three weeks ago that was red dirt," explained Jennifer.
"Will the farmer plow it under?" asked Andy.
"Maybe," she answered. "But first he will probably half graze it. Then, depending on prices and which is worth more, he will harvest it for seed and then plow the rest under or else full graze it."
About an inch or two of rain, the remnants of Hurricane Isaac, had slightly eased the Oklahoma drought, but both ladies agreed this area was close to 20 inches below normal for rainfall.
When I asked about the piles of red earth everywhere along the path, Ranger Teresa said, "We have ground squirrels and south of here there are prairie dog colonies."
"Not prairie dogs," I answered, "because the piles have no visible entrance."
"Then, it's probably moles," she said.
"My other dumb question is about the grasshoppers. Is it because of the drought? There are just so many everywhere. I know that you protect life, but my husband and I tried to step on as many as we could. That's not easy. It reminds me of the 'Mash the Mole' game at carnivals."
They laughed. "No, grasshoppers are normal," said Ranger Teresa. "Some people say grasshoppers equal bison."
"Oh, because of the bison turds?" I asked.
"Yup," she grinned. "It's supposed to be a sign of where buffalo roam, but we don't have bison here."
"Will you be getting some?" I wondered.
She wrinkled her nose. "Probably not because many changes would have to be made to contain them. There are small herds at Foss State Park, Wichita Wildlife Refuge and around Clinton though."
I also asked about the yellow flowers that turned fields into sheets of lemon color.

From the looks of this hay pile, the winter food supply
seems assured in Oklahoma in spite of the drought.

"It's a weed," said Jennifer. "Cows probably won't eat it at all. It's some invasive species, but it looks pretty, right at the moment."
As we headed north toward Kansas, Andy said, "Now this is the Great Plains!" The grasslands stretched as far as we could see. Two new drilling rigs popped up on the horizon. Signs outside the dirt entry said NOMAC. At Arnett, Oklahoma, a farmer had already rolled his hay for winter cattle feed. It was piled neatly in the field across the street from the Arnett Grain and Feed silos. "This country might be repetitious," said Andy, "but it certainly doesn't feel like devastation. It's drier as we head north though. The hurricane had less effect on this wheat country."

Shattuck, Oklahoma is the site of a windmill museum.

At the George Shultz General Merchandise store, we stumbled on Shattuck Windmill Museum and Park, established in 1994. Windmills of every shape and size circled in the stiff southerly breeze. Near the far side of the acreage was a sod house, originally located in a hillside south of the town of Shattuck, Oklahoma in 1904. "It's a railroad center," said Andy, but there were lots of empty buildings in the town center on Main Street.

Common on the Great Plains in the early 1900's, sod houses
are built into hillsides and have roofs of buffalo grass.

It was 83 degrees when we stopped at the town park in Laverne, Oklahoma, for a snack. The bank in town said 81, and the Farmers Supply store outside of town read 79 degrees. No matter. It was pleasant to be outside.
Not five miles north of Laverne I saw a black lump om a field near the road. "Dead cow," said Andy. My reaction as well. "It wouldn't lie down in the sun. That one is dead. They get stressed too from dryness. The drought is evident here. That's a terrible loss for some rancher." We were maybe four miles east of "no man's land," the arm of Oklahoma that stretches west. It actually was called that on the early maps.  We learned later that cows need 13 gallons of water a day per animal and rarely stray more than a mile from their water source.
"Goodbye, Oklahoma," said Andy, as we crossed the border into Kansas on Route #283.  Flat as a tabletop, the land really showed the stress of drought. The Cimarron River was a dry bed of dirt, and south of that what was labeled North Canadian River on the map seemed to be the puddles of Beaver Creek on the road.  Most of Englewood, Kansas was abandoned in dusty dryness.

Farms bought out by neighboring land owners are
left abandoned in a lonely country.

Abandoned homes stood so lonely. They screamed "Failure! Loss!" And yet next to Withers Cattle Ranch, the abandoned house was probably success for Mr. Withers who prospered, grew and expanded. I guess that's our free enterprise system, but it seems cruel, just like the empty cattle trucks that passed us on Route #283 toward Dodge City.
Outside Dodge City the Santa Fe Trail, which opened in 1821, passed just north of the Arkansas River, once the border between the U.S. and Mexico in the early 1800's. A pioneer, Rebecca Murray, once wrote that the river was no more than muddy pools. Today there is no river at all. More than 200 miles of the Arkansas have completely dried up, but the tracks where hundreds of covered wagons traveled west between Missouri and New Mexico were still visible to us as dark indentations over the bluffs by Dodge City. We were surprised to learn that the wagons traveled four abreast to minimize dust and so they could circle up fast if need be. It took four to six weeks to complete the 900-mile journey from Missouri to New Mexico at a rate of about 18 to 21 miles a day. The Santa Fe Trail carried settlers but was even more important as a vital link for commerce and trade until the Atchinson, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad connected East and West around 1880.
Between 1883 and 1885 the Soule Canal attempted to establish an easier route, but drought and leakage destroyed the plans, so the dreams of easy travel never materialised. We saw the indentation of that too.
We looked for Coronado's Cross, marking the spot where the sixteenth century explorer is said to have crossed the Arkansas River in 1541 in search of the fabled "Seven Cities of Gold." We couldn't find it, and GPS Maryann listed no such place.
We drove up and down Fourth Avenue and Second Avenue to see Stan Herd's Mural.  Couldn't find that either. Later we saw a faded picture on the side of a building a block away. It needed repainting. "El Capitan" was probably the statue of some longhorns in front of an empty church. We couldn't find anything else that qualified.  So Dodge City disappointed. After a little research tonight, we'll try again tomorrow.