Incidents of the Fur Trade

The annals of the fur trade are replete with tales of extraordinary ventures, audacious feats, and brutal conflicts. The trials endured by the dauntless trappers, isolated within the vast wilderness and perpetually contending with both ferocious animals and hostile indigenous populations, remain largely untold. Many perished in the silent expanses of remote territories, their names lost to the passage of time, the valor of their final stand unrecorded. Only within the ledgers of the prominent fur companies do brief allusions to such noteworthy incidents find their place.

These occurrences typically unfolded amidst the majestic mountain ranges, where trappers converged for rendezvous and spent a significant portion of their lives. The tragic Battle of Pierre’s Hole, the daring exploration of Utah, and the initial forays into California all present a tapestry of dramatic events. However, these episodes transpired beyond the geographical scope of this narrative.

Following the initial years of exploration and beaver trapping along the waterways, the Great Plains served primarily as a transit route from the settlements of civilization to the more lucrative mountain regions further west. Whether by boat up the Missouri River or on foot along the Platte River Valley, hunters traversed these plains, either alone or in groups, bound for the distant mountain ranges. Undoubtedly, these long prairie journeys were marked by considerable hardship, adventure, and encounters with Native American tribes, yet such events were not deemed sufficiently significant for inclusion in the mundane journals of the fur companies. The stories, however, persist, whispered on the wind, hinting at the drama and danger inherent in the lives of those who pursued their fortunes in the wilderness.

One particularly striking example of the resilience and suffering of these men is the legendary ordeal of Hugh Glass. His miraculous survival stands as a testament to the indomitable spirit of the Incidents of the Fur Trade.

The Escape of Hugh Glass

The remarkable tale of Hugh Glass vividly exemplifies the fortitude and adversity endured by these men. Glass was affiliated with Andrew Henry’s party during an expedition to the Yellowstone River. While hunting along the Grand River, he was ambushed by a grizzly bear that emerged from a thicket. The bear knocked him to the ground, tearing a mouthful of flesh from his body before presenting it to her cubs. Glass attempted to flee, but the bear swiftly attacked again, seizing him by the shoulder and inflicting severe wounds to his hands and arms. Fortuitously, his companions arrived and managed to kill the bear. Despite being alive, Glass was so grievously injured that his survival seemed improbable. Compounding the situation was their location within hostile Indian territory, necessitating the party’s swift departure. Eventually, Major Henry, by offering a reward, convinced two men to remain with Glass while the rest of the party continued onward. One of these men was John S. Fitzgerald, and the other was a young James Bridger, who would later become a renowned trapper. They stayed with the wounded hunter for five days. Believing his recovery impossible and seeing no imminent death, they abandoned him to his fate, taking his rifle and all his equipment. Upon rejoining the main party, they reported him as deceased. This event is a dark stain on the many Incidents of the Fur Trade.

However, Glass was not dead. Regaining consciousness, he crawled towards a spring. Nearby, he discovered wild cherries and buffalo berries, which sustained him as he slowly regained his strength. Eventually, he resolved to embark on a long and arduous journey. His destination was Fort Kiowa, situated on the Missouri River, approximately 100 miles away. He commenced his journey with barely enough strength to move, without provisions or means of acquiring them, and in a hostile environment where he was vulnerable to any passing Native American. Yet, driven by the will to live and a burgeoning desire for revenge against those who had abandoned him, he pressed on. Luck seemed to favor him when he encountered wolves preying on a buffalo calf. He allowed them to kill it, then scared them away and claimed the meat, consuming it as best he could without knife or fire. Carrying what he could, he continued his relentless march and, after enduring immense hardship and suffering, finally reached Fort Kiowa in present-day South Dakota. The journey is a testament to the human spirit, and one of the most famous Incidents of the Fur Trade.

Before his wounds had completely healed, Glass was once again in the field, heading east with a group of trappers traveling down the Missouri River. Approaching the Mandan villages, he decided to walk across where the river curved. There, fate intervened when Arikara Indians attacked the boats, killing all those on board.

Too weak to fight, Glass narrowly escaped and was taken to Tilton’s Fort by friendly Mandan Indians. Fueled by his desire for retribution against those who had deserted him in the mountains, he left Tilton’s that very night, plunging into the wilderness. He traveled alone for 38 days through hostile Indian territory, finally arriving at Fort Henry at the mouth of the Big Horn River in present-day Montana. There, he learned that the men he sought had gone east. Still determined to find them, he seized the opportunity to deliver a dispatch to Fort Atkinson, Nebraska.

Adventures of Four Trappers

Four men, including Glass, departed from the Big Horn River on February 28, 1824. They traveled on foot, first into the Powder River Valley and then across the divide into the Platte River Valley. They fashioned skin boats and floated down the river until they reached the open prairie beyond the foothills.

Suddenly, they encountered a band of Arikara Indians, with whom they attempted to negotiate. However, the Indians launched a treacherous attack, killing two of the men. Almost miraculously, Glass managed to escape, although he lost all his equipment except a knife and a flint. Once again, he set out alone for the nearest post, Kiowa. It was the season when buffalo calves were young, providing him with ample meat, and his flint enabled him to make fire. After 15 days of travel, he reached the fort and, at the earliest opportunity, traveled down the river again. This time, he safely arrived at Fort Atkinson in June 1824. His thirst for revenge seemed to have subsided, as he made no further effort to locate those who had abandoned him. Tragically, Glass was eventually killed by Indians on the Yellowstone River in 1832. The sheer tenacity displayed by Glass solidifies his place as a legend within the documented Incidents of the Fur Trade.

Another poignant incident in the wilderness illustrates the harsh realities of life for these men. Six hundred and sixteen miles from Independence, Missouri, along what would later become the Oregon Trail, stood a prominent landmark known as Scott’s Bluff in present-day Nebraska. The name originated from one of the most somber events in the history of the fur trade. A trapper party was traveling down the Platte River in canoes when their boats capsized in some rapids, resulting in the loss of all their supplies and gunpowder. Their situation was dire, exacerbated by the serious illness of one of their members named Hiram Scott. While struggling to determine their next course of action, they discovered the fresh trail of a party of white men heading down the river. Eager to catch up with this party and Scott unable to move, they callously abandoned him to his fate, later reporting that he had died.

A year later, Scott’s skeleton was discovered near the bluffs, confirming that the unfortunate man had crawled more than 40 miles before succumbing to death. The death of Jedediah S. Smith, who experienced numerous remarkable adventures while exploring a route to California, was another tragedy of the Plains. Smith was a remarkable, deeply religious man with unwavering courage and tireless energy. He joined the fur trade as a youth and, at 17, distinguished himself among these rugged men during the Arikara War. Following William Ashley’s retreat, Smith carried dispatches to Fort Henry on the Yellowstone River, a mission of great peril.

The rest of his life was spent in the wilderness, where he emerged as a respected leader. In 1831, Smith, along with his former fur partners, David Jackson, and in connection with the Santa Fe trade, secured an outfit with 20 wagons and 80 men in Missouri and began their journey through Kansas. As veterans of the Plains, they had no doubts about their safe passage, and all went well until they forded the Arkansas River. Here, they entered the arid expanse between the Arkansas and Cimarron Rivers. No one in the party had traveled this route before, and they found no trail or guiding landmarks. Mirages deceived them, leading them astray, and the caravan wandered for two days without water, their situation becoming desperate. Smith decided to ride ahead and find a way for the others. Following a buffalo trail, he reached the Cimarron River, only to find the stream bed dry. Knowing the nature of such rivers, he dug a hole in the bottom, which slowly filled with water. As he bent down to drink, unaware of any danger, he was fatally wounded by arrows shot by lurking Comanche Indians. He rose to his feet and killed two of his attackers before dying. After enduring much suffering, his companions reached Santa Fe, New Mexico, but their leader had paid the ultimate price in the wilderness.

The Trapper’s Characteristics

It is challenging to fully grasp the nature and lifestyle of those resilient wanderers of the mountains and plains, the early trappers. Their environment shaped them, fostering a distinctive character. The nature of their work influenced their appearance, language, habits, and attire. The arduous life of the trapper left its imprint on all their features. As Hiram Chittenden described them:

"He was ordinarily gaunt and spare, browned with exposure, his hair long and unkempt, which, with his dress, often made it difficult to distinguish him from the Indian. The constant peril of his life and the necessity of unremitting vigilance gave him a kind of piercing look, his head slightly bent forward and his deep eyes peering from under a slouch hat or whatever head-gear he might possess as if studying the face of the stranger to learn whether friend or foe. Overall, he impressed one as taciturn and gloomy, and his life did, to some extent, suppress gayety and tenderness. He became accustomed to scenes of violence and death, and the problem of self-preservation was of such paramount importance that he had but little time to waste upon ineffectual reflections."

Thrift was virtually unknown among these men. They were utterly improvident, seemingly by choice. They scorned all efforts at economy and were always impoverished, spending every cent as soon as they received it. The men’s stories are the heart of the Incidents of the Fur Trade.

The first trappers to venture beyond the Missouri River were likely French, known as "free" trappers, unaffiliated with any major companies, working independently or in pairs and selling their furs to the highest bidder. However, the French trapper preferred the open Plains and rarely ventured into the mountains. With few exceptions, the mountain trapper was of American descent and training. Before the War of 1812, trapping in the Rocky Mountains was a venture fraught with the dangers of hostile Indians and the harsh terrain. After that time, it became a struggle for dominance among the organized fur companies of New York, St. Louis, Missouri, and Mackinaw, Michigan. Manuel Lisa, Andrew Henry, William Ashley, Milton and William Sublette, Robert Campbell, John S. Fitzpatrick, and James Bridger, each in turn, ascended the Missouri River or traversed the Plains, each with 100 to 300 men, vying to outwit their rivals, suspicious of every stranger. The silent mountain wilderness concealed numerous acts of violence and treachery, invariably perpetrated by company men. From the beginning to the end of the fur trade, the "trappers" constituted a distinct class. Their story is, in every respect, honorable. Agnes C. Laut aptly summarized it in her Story of the Trapper:

"The crime of corrupting natives cannot be attributed to the free trapper. He carried neither poison nor what was worse than poison to the Indian – whiskey – among the native tribes. The free trapper lived on good terms with the Indians because his safety depended on them. Renegades like James Bird, the deserter from the Hudson’s Bay Company, or Rose, who abandoned the Astorians, or James Beckwourth of apocryphal fame, might cast off civilization and become Indian chiefs, but, after all, these men were not guilty of half so hideous crimes as the great fur companies of boasted respectability. Nathaniel Wyeth of Boston, Massachusetts, and Captain Benjamin Bonneville of the army, whose underlings caused such murderous slaughter among the Root Diggers, were not free trappers in the true sense of the term."

Nathaniel Wyeth was an enthusiast captivated by the allure of the wilds. Captain Benjamin Bonneville was an adventurer whose men killed more Indians in one expedition than all the free trappers of America in a century. As for the desperado Harvey, his crimes were committed within the confines of the American Fur Company’s fort. Before joining the Astorians, McLellan, Crooks, John Day and Daniel Boone, Kit Carson, and John Colter are names synonymous with the true archetype of the free trapper.

Fights between Whites and Indians

During these years of exploration and trade, while the land remained a wilderness traversed only by small parties of free or employed trappers, the Great Plains and the rivers bordering them witnessed certain events of historical significance. The first recorded clash between Americans and Indians in this region occurred in September 1807 at the Arikara villages on the Missouri River. There, Ensign Pryor of the Army, with 50 men escorting a Mandan chief back to his tribe, was attacked by Arikara Indians onshore and forced to retreat after fifteen minutes of intense fighting. The whites suffered three killed and ten wounded, one mortally. This location on the river would later be the site of several conflicts, the most serious being the attack on Ashley’s men in June 1823. This battle, fought partly on land and partly on water, resulted in a practical defeat for the whites, who lost fourteen killed and approximately the same number wounded. This led to an army expedition under Colonel Leavenworth being dispatched up the river. A three-day battle ensued, but neither side could claim victory. A peace treaty was hastily arranged, but the Arikara continued to be troublesome throughout the years of the fur trade. These battles contribute to the violent narrative of the Incidents of the Fur Trade.

Earliest Steamboats on the Upper Missouri

Traveling west with a party via the Platte River, William Ashley transported a six-pounder wheeled cannon to Utah Lake. This is believed to be the first wheeled vehicle to cross the Plains north of the Santa Fe Trail. In 1831, the first steamboat navigated the upper Missouri River. This was the "Yellowstone," captained by Captain Young. It traveled as far as Fort Tecumseh. The following year, the boat reached Fort Union at the mouth of the Yellowstone River, and by 1859, steamers had reached Fort Benton, near the confluence of the Teton River and the Missouri River.

In 1837, the Indian tribes of the northern Plains were struck by a smallpox epidemic. It devastated the Arikara, Mandan, and Assiniboine tribes, spreading westward to the Crow and Blackfeet. The epidemic is said to have been introduced by the annual steamboat of the American Fur Company, the "St. Peters," which had several cases on board. The Mandan suffered the most, with only about 30 survivors, mostly boys and old men. Chittenden estimates the total loss among the affected tribes at over fifteen thousand, an almost impossible mortality rate given the probable original population. A writer of the time remarked: "The destroying angel has visited the unfortunate sons of the wilderness with terrors never before known and has converted the extensive hunting grounds, as well as the peaceful settlements of these tribes, into desolate and boundless cemeteries." The tragic consequences of the epidemic stand as a sobering example within the broader context of the Incidents of the Fur Trade.