The following is an account regarding the observational
prowess and situational awareness of the legendary frontiersman, Jim Bridger.
Keep in mind, this is not legend, this account comes to us from a military man,
Captain H. E. Palmer, of the Eleventh Kansas Calvary. This account is found in another
work by a military man, Biographical
Sketch of James Bridger: Mountaineer, Trapper, and Guide (1905) by
General Grenville M. Dodge.
After you have a read I’ll ask a few self-assessment questions.
Again, ponder long and hard, these are pragmatic military men relating what
they saw as observable fact and not some campfire tale or jejune super-hero
story.
“Captain H. E.
Palmer, Eleventh Kansas Cavalry, Acting Asst. Adjt. Genl. to General P. E.
Conner, gives this description of the Indian Camp on Tongue River, August 26,
1865. "Left Piney Fork at 6.45 a. m. Traveled north over a beautiful
country until about 8 a.m., when our advance reached the top of the ridge
dividing the waters of the Powder from that of the Tongue River. I was riding
in the extreme advance in company with Major Bridger. We were 2,000 yards at
least ahead of the General and his staff; our Pawnee scouts were on each flank
and a little in advance; at that time there was no advance guard immediately in
front. As the Major and myself reached the top of the hill we voluntarily
halted our steeds. I raised my field glass to my eyes and took in the grandest
view that I had ever seen. I could see the north end of the Big Horn range, and
away beyond the faint outline of the mountains beyond the Yellowstone. Away to
the northeast the Wolf Mountain range was distinctly visible. Immediately
before us lay the valley of Peneau creek, now called Prairie Dog creek, and
beyond the Little Goose, Big Goose and Tongue River valleys, and many other
tributary streams. The morning was clear and bright, with not a breath of air
stirring. The old Major, sitting upon his horse with his eyes shaded with his
hands, had been telling me for an hour or more about his Indian life—his forty
years experience on the plains, telling me how to trail Indians and distinguish
the tracks of different tribes; how every spear of grass, every tree and shrub
and stone was a compass to the experienced trapper and hunter—a subject that I
had discussed with him nearly every day. During the winter of 1863 I had
contributed to help Mrs. Bridger and the rest of the family, all of which
fact's the Major had been acquainted with, which induced him to treat me as an
old-time friend.
As
I lowered my glass the Major said: 'Do you see those ere columns of smoke over
yonder?' I replied: 'Where, Major?' to which he answered: 'Over there by that
ere saddle,' meaning a depression in the hills not unlike the shape of a
saddle, pointing at the same time to a point nearly fifty miles away. I again
raised my glasses to my eyes and took a long, earnest look, and for the life of
me could not see any column of smoke, even with a strong field glass. The Major
was looking without any artificial help. The atmosphere seemed to be slightly
hazy in the long distance like smoke, but there was no distinct columns of
smoke in sight. As soon as the General and his staff arrived I called his
attention to Major Bridger's discovery. The General raised his field glass and
scanned the horizon closely. After a long look, he remarked that there were no
columns of smoke to be seen. The Major quietly mounted his horse and rode on. I
asked the General to look again as the Major was very confident that he could
see columns of smoke, which of course indicated an Indian village. The General
made another examination and again asserted that there was no column of smoke.
However, to satisfy curiosity and to give our guides no chance to claim that
they had shown us an Indian village and we would not attack it, he suggested to
Captain Frank North, who was riding with his staff, that he go with seven of
his Indians in the direction indicated to reconnoitre and report to us at
Peneau Creek or Tongue River, down which we were to march. I galloped on and
overtook the Major, and as I came up to him overheard him remark about 'these
damn paper collar soldiers telling him there was no columns of smoke. The old
man was very indignant at our doubting his ability to outsee us, with the aid
of field glasses even. Just after sunset on August 27 two of the Pawnees who
went out with Captain North towards Bridger's column of smoke two days previous
came into camp with the information that confirmed the observation.”
This is General Dodge himself on other aspects of Mr.
Bridger.
“While engaged
in this thorough system of trapping, no object of interest escaped his
scrutiny, and when once known it was ever after remembered. He could describe
with the minutest accuracy places that perhaps he had visited but once, and
that many years before, and he could travel in almost a direct line from one
point to another in the greatest distances, with certainty of always making his
goal. He pursued his trapping expeditions north to the British possessions,
south far into New Mexico and west to the Pacific Ocean, and in this way became
acquainted with all the Indian tribes in the country, and by long intercourse
with them learned their languages, and became familiar with all their signs. He
adopted their habits, conformed to their customs, became imbued with all their
superstitions, and at length excelled them in strategy.
Bridger
was also a great Indian fighter, and I have heard two things said of him by the
best plainsmen of this time; that he did not know what fear was, and that he
never once lost his bearings, either on the plains or in the mountains.
As
a guide he was without an equal, and this is the testimony of everyone who ever
employed him. He was a born topographer, the whole West was mapped out in his
mind, and such was his instinctive sense of locality and direction that it used
to be said of him that he could smell his way where he could not see it. He was
a complete master of plains and woodcraft, equal to any emergency, full of
resources to overcome any obstacle, and I came to learn gradually how it was
that for months such men could live without food except what the country
afforded in that wild region. In a few hours they would put together a bullboat
and put us across any stream. Nothing escaped their vision, the dropping of a
stick or breaking of a twig, the turning of the growing grass, all brought knowledge
to them, and they could tell who or what had done it. A single horse or Indian
could not cross the trail but that they discovered it, and could tell how long
since they passed. Their methods of hunting game were perfect, and we were
never out of meat. Herbs, roots, berries, bark of trees and everything that was
edible they knew. They could minister to the sick, dress wounds—in fact in all
my experience I never saw Bridger or the other voyagers of the plains and
mountains meet any obstacle they could not overcome.”
Now, I ask the following…how well does your own
observational prowess, your own situational awareness, your own “in the world”
cunning stack against Mr. Bridger?
Do you require GPS for your own journeys?
Are your own eyes lifted from the phone to see 50
yards in front of you let alone smoke two days ride away?
Are our ears stuffed with earbuds or saturated with an
endless soundtrack of music and podcasts that prohibit us from hearing every
little here and now, whether that be wind soughing in the trees, the scrape of
a shoe behind you, or the distinct laugh of your child?
Are we truly rough and ready keen-eyed sharp-witted men
and women or do we merely sport the apparel and use Facebook icons to falsely
signal our prowess as “paper collar soldiers”?
May we all be educated to at least 1/5th of
Mr. Bridger’s prowess and never need it for bad aim.
If our awareness steers us out of trouble-- Hurrah!
If it makes us alive to what is around us and enjoy it
all the more—well, that is also a win, perhaps an even better win at that.
[
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This tidy anthology of
Western works by Ed Gorman is a delicious treat. We are offered ten thoughtful
stories. 
