[All extracts taken from Biographical
Sketch of James Bridger: Mountaineer, Trapper, and Guide (1905) by General
Grenville M. Dodge.]
“After the death of his father and mother Bridger
had to support himself and sister. He got together money enough to buy a
flatboat ferry, and when ten years of age made a living by running that ferry
to St. Louis. When he was thirteen years old he was apprenticed to Phil Cromer
to learn the blacksmith's trade. Becoming tired of this, in 1822 he hired out
to a party of trappers under General Ashley, who were en route to the
mountains. As a boy he was shrewd, had keen faculties of observation, and said
when he went with the trappers that the money he earned would go to his sister.”
·
At the age of 10 purchases a flatboat and
begins a ferry business.
·
At 13 apprentices to learn smithing.
·
Soon after that hits the frontier.
·
The wonder is not at the loss of independence
and industry in the youth of today, but to look at the “grownups” we have
become and ask ourselves, “Do we have the cojones to do anything as intrepid as
this right now, well past the age of majority?”
·
I wager we all come up short.
·
If there are stones to cast, t’is the self
that should be bruised.
“One of the arrow heads which Bridger received in
his back on this occasion remained there for nearly three years, or until the
middle of August, 1835. At that time Dr. Marcus Whitman was at the rendezvous
on Green River en route to Oregon. Bridger was also there, and Dr. Whitman
extracted the arrow from his back. The operation was a difficult one, because
the arrow was hooked at the point by striking a large bone, and a cartilaginous
substance had grown around it. The doctor pursued the operation with great
self-possession and perseverance, and his patient manifested equal firmness.
The Indians looked on meantime with countenances indicating wonder, and in
their own peculiar manner expressed great astonishment when it was extracted.
The arrow was of iron and about three inches long."
·
Carried a 3” inches steel arrowhead in his
body for three years and never stopped questing in the frontier.
·
How familiar is this or similar refrains, “I
would go do such and such with you but my sciatica [insert “Not cartilaginous
encased arrowhead malady” here].
·
Seems we have some mannin’ up to do.
[I offer the next lengthy extract as an example of
observational prowess. Keep in mind, he is in the company of military men with
no phones and candy crush to distract them, that is, fellow observers. When you
get to the end, yes, marvel at Mr. Bridger’s abilities, but don’t mock the “blind”
cavalry men; ask yourself honestly how you would fare? I wager most of us would be distant third place to any man in a
saddle that day.]
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 Captain had
been correct.
·
Name the color of the last car you passed.
Do this whether it was just now or two days ago.
·
Ask yourself is there a difference between
how Mr. Bridger saw and how you interface with the world.
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.
·
A man who immersed to learn.
·
He transcended culture by embedding in it.
·
If any us flatter ourselves that we may be
made of such stuff, I offer that I see people who won’t mix with MAGA, or
Progressives, or this or that fellow Citizen who speaks their same language and
buys milk in the same store, and yet we are to believe that we would be an able
traveler in new cultures in hostile land. Able to befriend the alien when we
can’t even be loving on familiar ground over trivial “differences”?
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.
·
Let us ask ourselves, when was the last
time we went where we knew nothing?
·
Read without a guide? Tasted the unfamiliar?
Sniffed the new fragrance?
·
Frontiers can be new in many realms, if
our habits are landlocked in small realms, maybe we could bend a little and
explore small before we go big.
·
Test the waters so to speak.
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.
While Bridger was not an educated man,
still any country that he had ever seen he could fully and intelligently describe,
and could make a very correct estimate of the country surrounding it. He could
make a map of any country he had ever traveled over, mark out its streams and
mountains and the obstacles in it correctly, so that there was no trouble in
following it and fully understanding it. He never claimed knowledge that he did
not have of the country, or its history and surroundings, and was positive in
his statements in relation to it. He was a good judge of human nature. His
comments upon people that he had met and been with were always intelligent and seldom
critical. He always spoke of their good parts, and was universally respected by
the mountain men, and looked upon as a leader, also by all the Indians. He was
careful to never give his word without fulfilling it. He understood thoroughly
the Indian character, their peculiarities and superstitions. He felt very
keenly any loss of confidence in him or his judgment, especially when acting as
guide, and when he struck a country or trail he was not familiar with he would
frankly say so, but would often say he could take our party up to the point we
wanted to reach. As a guide I do not think he had his equal upon the plains.
He could make a map of any country he had
ever traveled over, mark out its streams and mountains and the obstacles in it
correctly, so that there was no trouble in following it and fully understanding
it.
·
Could we?
He never claimed knowledge that he did not
have…
·
Can we claim that?
His comments upon people that he had met
and been with were always intelligent and seldom critical.
·
Can we say that? A brief survey of posts
often reveals a seeming love of the critical.
He always spoke of their good parts…
·
Can we say that? Lord, I hope so.
He felt very keenly any loss of confidence
in him or his judgment, especially when acting as guide, and when he struck a
country or trail he was not familiar with he would frankly say so…
·
Do we freely admit the limits of our
knowledge, or do we feel the need to pronounce on and on and on…
As a guide I do not think he had his equal
upon the plains.
·
That is the evaluation of a pragmatic military
mind.
·
May we admire and aspire.
To bucking up like Jim Bridger!
A Man to Match the Mountains!
T’SUH!!!!
Resources for Livin’ the Warrior Life, Not Just
Readin’ About It
The Black Box Warehouse
https://www.extremeselfprotection.com/
The Indigenous Ability Blog
https://indigenousability.blogspot.com/
The Rough ‘n’ Tumble Raconteur Podcast
https://anchor.fm/mark-hatmaker
