Army officers in general were in favor of exterminating the buffalo as a means of solving the Indian problem. At some posts hide hunters were supplied with thousands of rounds of free ammunition so to increase the rate of kill.
In spite of the opposition, a mild bill was finally passed and sent to President Grant near the end of his term. He took care of it with a pocket veto. The next Congress tried again; a bill passed the House but died in the Senate committee. After that no bill was needed, for the herds had vanished.
By 1880 it was apparent that the buffalo was doomed. Sportsmen planning to kill one for the thrill of the kill or to secure a trophy head were urged by the press to act quickly or it would be too late. This advice stimulated hundreds of men to grab their guns and dash out to the attack. The desire to kill a buffalo increased rapidly as the animals became scarce. A few sportsmen even hoped to achieve a sort of historical recognition by killing the very last buffalo. At the same time, these same men were deploring the slaughter wrought by the hide hunters, who at least made some use of their kills.
An account of one hunting trip illustrates the attitude of the sportsmen. In an article for a sports magazine,
The American Field
, George O. Shields wrote that he had fulfilled his fondest dream: to hunt buffalo on its native range, to shoot antelope, elk, and coyotes as they roamed the unspoiled wild country of the west.
Shields outfitted at a military post, Camp McIntosh, in the Dakota Badlands, where the officer in charge furnished at no cost a military escort and wagons and teams to haul his camp gear. The first day out, the party sighted several small bands of buffalo, and shot into each of them, but this was not quite what Shields had come for. That night in camp he was delighted to learn from a scout that a herd of about 200,000 head was just twelve miles away. With this delightful prospect in store, Shields mused about such noble animals being killed by hide hunters, calling it "a burning shame and a disgrace to any civilized citizen," and urging Congress to restrict the hide hunters by law.
In the morning he rolled out of his sleeping bag and managed to kill two old bulls before breakfast. Then he ate and went out after the main herd, shooting indiscriminately at any buffalo within range. The high point of his hunt came when his party stampeded a large band over a seventy-foot cutbank, leaving the animals in a writhing, surging mass about ten feet deep to die at their leisure. On this hunt the recorded kill was sixty-four buffalo, several antelope and deer, and some small game, of which the party used a little of the meat and a few hides. This score does not include the many wounded or the pile of cripples at the foot of the jump.
Shields wrote that this was "a most pleasant and successful hunt in every respect," and advised his readers who wanted to kill a few buffalo for sport to hurry out to the range before the herd was wiped out completely by the hide hunters.
Another hunter from the east, William T. Hornaday, had a different objective in hunting down some of the last strays in the Badlands. In 1886 he was head taxidermist for the National Museum in Washington, D.C. When the directors decided that the museum needed a good buffalo group, Hornaday found that there were no good specimens in stock. He wrote to various places in the west in an attempt to locate a small herd.
He was told of six animals in South Dakota, perhaps a hundred in the rough, remote places in the Texas Panhandle, and a few strays north of Miles City. He decided on Miles City, and set out in the spring to investigate. After a determined hunt, his party found three bulls and killed two of them, only to find that the pelts were of poor quality at that time of year. His guides were sure that he could find more buffalo deeper in the Badlands.
In the fall of 1886 Hornaday returned to Miles City and outfitted for a long hunt. In two months of steady hunting, involving much difficult travel, he killed twenty-six animals of diverse sizes and ages. From these he selected six of the best for a family group in the museum exhibit, and shipped grass and sage from Miles City to make the setting as authentic as possible.
In his report of the project Hornaday gave a fairly comprehensive history of the bison and the destruction of the herds. His interest in the subject aroused, he began working for the preservation of the species and enlisted the assistance of several other people dedicated to the cause. By 1905 he was able to organize the American Bison Society, with President Theodore Roosevelt as the honorary president. This society, with the support of many other groups, finally persuaded Congress to establish the National Bison Range in western Montana and to provide breeding stock to the national parks.
24. The Dying Flame
The slaughter of the buffalo herds left a void in the Plains Indians' culture complex far greater in consequence than the economic loss. The buffalo had been the central figure in the Indians' whole pattern of existence, and its disappearance left a spiritually disturbed people, socially disorganized, and lacking a meaningful pattern for a new way of life. Overwhelmed by the winds of change, which they were powerless either to modify or evade, they turned to the mystical world.
At this time of need there arose in the western desert a red messiah who brought a ray of hope, a promise of supernatural aid that would blot out the whites and destroy all their works. And like many a desert prophet before him, this new messiah, Wovoka, came from a small, weak tribe, the Paviotso, living in a remote area of western Nevada.
Wovoka was a sincere young man, trained in the tribal pattern of a medicine man by his father. He was subject to trances in which he traveled to the spirit world and there received visions and instructions that he believed came from the Great Spirit, the Creator, and that he was obligated to share with all Indians.
After years of minor visions and minor miracles, and some acceptance among his own people as a prophet as well as a medicine man, Wovoka had his great vision as he lay seriously ill with a high fever. On January 1, 1889, during a total eclipse of the sun, Wovoka fell into a deep trance that lasted for several days. When he revived, he gave his people a detailed account of his visit to the spirit world: "When the sun died, I went up to heaven and saw God and all the people who had died a long time ago. God told me to come back and tell my people they must be good and love one another, and not fight, or steal, or lie. He gave me this dance to give to my people." He had also been given appropriate songs for the new dance.
Most ritual dances among the Plains tribes were for men only, but west of the Rockies women often were included in these important ceremonies. Wovoka's new dance and its songs were for all the people, men, women, and children, and could last for five days at a time. With its inspiring message, it fired the imagination of the people of the Great Basin, and spread like a range fire in a high wind. Soon it had reached the western rim of the Great Plains.
The Plains tribes, in their disturbed and distressed condition, turned eagerly to the west to receive Wovoka's message. Several tribes sent delegations of their respected leaders to see Wovoka and to determine if he was indeed a real prophet. Greatly impressed, the delegations returned sincere believers and spread the dance and the teachings among their own tribes.
Wovoka was not above sprinkling his spiritual teachings with a little sleight-of-hand, as was customary among the medicine men of the desert tribes. His most impressive performance was staged one night under a towering cottonwood tree by the flickering glow of a campfire. Standing on a tanned skin and wearing a white cotton shirt of new design adorned with magic symbols, he had a trusted follower blaze away at his breast with a large-bore shotgun from a short distance. When the cloud of black smoke from the powder charge cleared away, there stood Wovoka, smiling, unharmed, with a handful of buckshot scattered at his feet. Seemingly his magic shirt had stopped the bullets. In that emotionally steeped setting, who among his devoted followers would suspect that the buckshot had come from the prophet's hand, not from the gun barrel?