July 15, 1833
In the morning, beautiful, bright, warm sunshine; the day very hot. At 7:30, 75°F [23.9°C]. During the night, by nine o’clock in the evening, the wolves in our vicinity had struck up a loud concert. Papin had fatally shot a deer on the left bank but had not been able to find it in the big rose thicket; without doubt it was this animal that caused the wolves to howl so loudly. During the night our guards heard the buffalo bellowing mightily; the combined concert must have been most interesting! The mating season of the bison was now beginning; in a short time the bull becomes very lean, malodorous, and unpalatable. At this time only cows are shot.
In the morning we navigated through a flat region. On both sides, mostly woods and meadows; here and there, prairie overgrown with Artemisia. At 7:30, 75°F [23.9°C]. At this time, to the left in the prairie before us, we had a row of low clay hills on which we suddenly saw a goodly number of buffalo moving. The hunters sprang ashore; we soon lost sight of them in the dense thickets. It was already exceptionally hot. The forest consisted of dwarf ash trees and old cottonwoods with dense underbrush of roses, red willows, and buffalo berries. The ground was hard, dried-out clay. The region, wild and rugged, reminded me of the great heat during the dry season in the sertão of Bahiá in Brazil. In general there was great similarity, although the character of the vegetation is different. The buffalo had quite recently trodden broad trails everywhere here, in all directions; their wool hung on the shrubs; their droppings lay in the paths. We found deer antlers, and our men were incessantly busy searching for Stachelbeeren (currants), which grow here in abundance. Our steward (Maxant) gathered together a dish of the belle dame ([— —]) to prepare us a vegetable dish from it. I pursued several interesting birds. In the hot shade of these thickets, one saw blackbirds ([— —]), the kingbird, Turdus rufus, the turtledove, and four [other] beautiful birds: the yellow goldfinch (Fringilla tristis) in all its most beautiful splendor, two or three on a dry bush; the Icteria, with [its] many different calls and magnificently yellow breast; the beautiful blue finch (Fringilla amoena); and the yellow warbler (Sylvia aestiva). But the charge [of my gun], designed for buffalo, spared the beautiful little birds for thetime the time being.
When I found Messrs. Mitchell and Culbertson on shore, we immediately noticed a large bison bull that had sunk halfway into the mud and could no longer get away. He was about 120 paces from us, but we could not get closer. The shooting began, and when the animal had taken several bullets, it worked itself back into the river and swam across but suddenly lay down on its side and seemed to die. Meanwhile the dinghy was sent from the keelboat [to] pursue the buffalo. It could no longer climb the bank, and the men killed it from the dinghy.
Between the hills and the shore forest lay a prairie completely covered with white bluish green shrubs of Artemisia, among which the beautiful yellow aster ([— —]) spread yellow patches: a strange, beautiful sight. Cactus ferox, with red filaments, was also very abundant here. I saw a woodpecker with a red tail but did not shoot it. My companions, flushed as they were, hurled themselves into the river and bathed. About twelve o’clock Dreidoppel returned, [as did] the dinghy. The former had wounded an antelope and had even come close to it, but his shot was too high and it got away. He had seen the other hunters shooting at buffalo but could not say anything about their success. At twelve o’clock, 86°F [30°C]. The boat came brought only a little meat from the dead buffalo; probably they had roasted and eaten [some of the meat] while they were there. One is too lenient with these people, who always try to steal away from the cordelle to eat gooseberries. Their duties are not difficult now, since they pull for only two hours at a time and have their fill of meat to eat besides.
Last summer, in the region around the hills where we shot the bison in the mud today, Mr. Mitchell met about forty Piegans (Blackfoot) with their wives and children. They were coming from Fort Union, where they gave Mr. Mitchell the goods they had received there for him to take along. After a day’s journey, his keelboat was wrecked; the Indians’ belongings were lost with it, and they demanded them back from him, which nearly caused difficulties.
The rest of our hunters also came in at noon; they had killed an additional bison and wounded another one. After lunch Mr. Mitchell went out with Deschamps.
In the afternoon we navigated along the sandy edge of the left bank, where a large pile of driftwood and cuttings lay. At four o’clock or 4:30, Mr. Mitchell returned. He complained greatly about the exceptional heat, which had been especially intense in the prairie hills; even in our cabin, ventilated by openings on all sides, the thermometer registered 84 1/2°F [29.2°C]. With his rifle Mr. Mitchell had shot a beautiful bald eagle (Aquila leucocephala), which was devouring a big fish. He had come upon a herd of elk of several hundred head, and [the hunters] had wounded one without capturing it. He had not seen any bull elk among this herd, [which] was moving from the forest toward the prairie. The men on the cordelle killed a large rattlesnake. We navigated past a low row of bluffs and then discovered a shallow channel, which we could not get through; therefore, [we turned] back and sailed around the shallow spot to the other bank. Here were prairie and forest; we moved upstream somewhat more and then put in for the night. The evening was splendid, [with a] very beautiful sunset; but [then] the mosquitoes arrived and drove us into the cabin, where we closed all the shutters and were prey to the great heat. During the night, a very strong wind; clear sky.