Journal of a Hunter and Trapper

[Jumpy]

All right, here I go. I really didn't know where to put this so I will stick it here unless a moderator sees fit to move it somewhere else. This is just something that I threw together as I am here sitting in my deer blind being bored. It is hot here and the deer are not moving, at least not where I am, and my mind is wondering what this country was like 200 years ago.
Some of you may enjoy this and some of you won't. I am by no means a writer or a very knowledgeable historian. My imagination is just running wild.

October 22nd, 1816
Traveled in a westward direction today. I am in the western foot hills of the Ouchita Mountains. The land looks fertial and there is lots of game in the area, deer being the most abundant. I believe that the country will open up to prairies a little further west.
There was a light was a light chill in the air this morning, but the day warmed up.  Winter will be here before long and I need to pick me a suitable base camp soon. This country looks grand to me. The fields and streams have not yet been molested by the white man.  Nor  has ax or saw touched any of the timber of hills. Few white men have been to this country yet. I know that there have been a few trappers or traders,  mostly being French and maybe some Spanish. The rivers and the smaller creeks have plenty of beaver sign to make sets on.
I have seen no sign of red or white men since the crossing of the Arkansas river several weeks ago. That is fine by me. I would just not as soon not come across any. Although more than likely the redman in area may be more friendly than hostile. I would still just as soon not meet any of either kind.
Earlier in the day I crossed a buffalo trace that ran north and south between two ridges running parallel on each side of it. The ridge on the west side of the trace was steep and lined with solid granit rock straight up for nearly 300 feet and stretched about mile long. I rode down the bottom edge of the granite cliff south to  the end of it and took a well worn game trail that ran in southwesterly direction crossing the ridge. While traveling the downward slope of the, a small black bear loped across the trail about 60 yards in front of me. I put a round ball threw the bears heart with my old Virginia smooth rifle,  that served me so well when I rode with Captain Nathan Boone and his rangers as we patrolled the Missouri frontier during the war.
The bear was not large but is good eating and will provide me with another pelt and a little grease that can be rendered down if I choose to.
I have stopped on the sandy banks of a small clear stream to stay the night. After unloading my packs and tending to the horses  I built a small fire and feasted on the loins of the bear.
John W. Hart

[Jumpy]

October 24th, 2016
Woke up stiff this morning. Though it seems I slept pretty well last night and was up well before daylight.
There is a slight breeze today that came in with the morning sun. I have a little coffee boiling on the fire and a few pieces of salt pork cooking up, that came out of Missouri with me, as I make this journal entry. I figured that I would try to get the entry done early while I am waiting on my morning meal. I spent most of the day yesterday scouting  the country and didn't take time to sit down and write.  
Today I plan to making a few sets on some beaver sign that I found.
I have still not seen any sign of Indians.

John W. Hart

[rollingb]

By golly John your journal reads just fine!  :notworthy

[Uncle Russ]

Not a thing in the world wrong with that Journal, pretty dog-gone descriptive, IMO.  

Uncle Russ...

[Jumpy]

Thank you kindly, RussB!!!

[amm1851]

Excellent job! I hope it will continue.

[Jumpy]

Thank you, amm1851!
I'I'll try to keep it going as best as I can.

[Jumpy]

October 25, 1816
   Coffee is good this morning. I can remember the first time that I ever took a drink of it. I was just a young  lad and the morning was cold. My mother had just pored father some and I will never forget how the steam rose out of the cup as he lifted it to his lips and gently blew on it. He noticed me watching him, and after taking a sip,  he sit the cup back down on the rough hewn table and pushed it towards me and told me to try it. The face I made must have been priceless. I had never tasted anything so hot and bitter in my life and my father laughed as my mother scolded him for putting me up to taking a drink. Saying that I was to young to drink coffee.  I remember wondering why anyone would want to  drink the hot bitter liquid. But that was long ago and seems as if it had been another lifetime. Now, I enjoy coffee. It took some time, but I love a hot cup of the bitter water. As a matter of fact the stronger the better. Coffee, like tobacco, is one of the little enjoyments in this life.
   The salt pork is all gone. The last of it being eaten yesterday. So it's coffee and dried jerky for breakfast this morning.
I am sitting on the ground leaning back against a large post oak as I make this journal entry. I am trying to get it done early, for once the day gets started good, I may not have the time or the desire to write one.  If the four traps that were set yesterday all happen to hold beaver this morning, it will be a busy day of skinning, fleshing and stretching.
It always amazes me how quite the forest is before the dawn and then when the first rays of light start peaking out from the east it comes alive with activity. Right now as I write this,  the song birds are singing their glories songs as a Red Headed Woodpecker pecks on a dead tree close by. A crow is cawing from the east, while a squirrel chatters in the treetops behind me. It looks like it is going to be a beautiful fall day.
   Yesterday, after making the beaver sets, I found fresh spring water seeping out from under a large rock that lays on the sloping side of a southern ridge that is well covered with post oak timber. With a little work it can be made into suitable supply of drinking water. A shelter can also be constructed with little ease here and the ridge line will help protect both me and the animals from the cold north winds that will surely be coming soon. I believe that it is there that I will make the winter camp.  

John W. Hart

[rollingb]

[Muley]

Excellent! Do it more often.