The roused bear

Purple Coneflower in Winter

the roused bear — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 01:41:46 +0000

Purple coneflowers are great butterfly flowers. They stand tall and provide a good landing spot for even the largest of butterflies. The light purple petals provide a contrast with the red spikes. The red admiral shown a few days previously was on purple coneflower.

The stalk of the flower remains tall in the winter, and takes on a more subtle but still spectacular look. It also provides food for small animals.

A Thin Layer of Snow

the roused bear — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 00:29:25 +0000

We had temperatures that were a few degrees above freezing today. It was sunny and calm and may have seemed warmer than it actually was. I looked for some small creatures to photograph. Instead I found this thin layer of melting snow on a tree stump.

Missing Summer

the roused bear — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 03:42:00 +0000

I was missing summer a little bit–especially the opportunities to take photographs of insects. So I went through some of the photos I took this summer. Here is a red admiral. The photo was taken July 27, 2011.

Six weeks or so and the butterflies will be back in small numbers. I can hardly wait.

Moving Forward

the roused bear — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 02:33:09 +0000

I have been temporarily sidelined from some of my blogging activities because of a busy schedule, coupled with a very slow internet connection. We have one of those services that limits the download speed once a certain threshold has been achieved, and we added a wireless connection. Suddenly we have six devices on the internet instead of just one. So we have to set internal limits and upgrade. Living in a rural location limits some of the options.

But it has its advantages, too. This photo was from last February.

Marshmallows in Oskaloosa

the roused bear — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 22:34:50 +0000

I got the new issue of National Geographic magazine the other day. Page 22 of the February 2012 issue has a map drawn by some guy from New York. He visited a number of dating web sites, analyzed the words that were used multiple times, and drew a map of the results.

People in Seattle used the word “wet” quite often. Those in Los Angeles used the word “acting.” People from Oskaloosa, Iowa used the word “marshmallow.”

I lived in Oskaloosa for a while. I am kind of round like a marshmallow. There might be a deeper significance to it all, but I don’t know it.

Here is a picture that I took about three miles north of Oskaloosa. I remembered the photograph when I saw the map. These are more like frosted mini-wheats than marshmallows, however.

Commentary

the roused bear — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 02:03:10 +0000

We have a recent news report of American fighters in Afghanistan posing while urinating on some dead Afghanis, presumably belonging to the Taliban. The video was posted to Utube. The activity of a few individuals was shocking. It was disrespectful, and individuals on both sides of the war are outraged.

The desecration of Black Hawk’s grave must have been quite similar. James Turner took his head, for God’s sake. He boiled it in water to remove the flesh. The motive was to get some money, but only a pittance would have been possible.

Both sides were likely shocked by this outrage. But the Indians were in a situation that is now called asymmetrical warfare. They were overwhelmingly outmatched. There was not much they could do.

Black Hawk’s bones were recovered, and temporarily stored in a museum in Burlington, Iowa. The museum burned down.

The damage was done. It could not be repaired.

The History of the Butterfly, Part 137: A Final Indignity

the roused bear — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 12:00:21 +0000

Black Hawk suffered a final indignity in death. His grave was robbed. There is an account of a part of the theft in Annals of Iowa, Volume XIII, No. 6, October, 1922. This is part of an account by Mrs. Sarah Welch Nossaman called “Pioneering at Bonaparte and near Pella.” “…In 1835 my father moved to what is now Iowa, but at that time it was part of Wisconsin Territory. We settled one mile below where Bonaparte now is, in Van Buren County. We had but few neighbors, among them being old Uncle Sammy Reed and his brother Isaac, and an Indian trader by the name of Jordan. I think Uncle Jimmy Jordan was known to most of the old settlers of the eastern part of this state. He was my father’s nearest neighbor. It was here we had for neighbors Black Hawk, Keokuk, Wapello, Hard Fish, Kishkakosh, Naseaskuk and a score of others of the Sac and Fox Indians. Here we had hard times and often went hungry. We lived there five years, one mile above where Bonaparte now is. The town of New Lexington was laid out, so we had a post office, but if a letter had come for us we could not have taken it out of the office. Letters were not prepaid with a two-cent stamp as they are now, but the one that received the letter had to pay twenty-five cents before he could take it out of the office. While we lived there Black Hawk and his sons were frequent visitors and often partook of my father’s hospitality. In 1837 or 1838, I don’t remember which, Black Hawk died of malaria fever. One of our neighbors, Dr. James Turner, thought if he could only steal Black Hawk’s head he could make a fortune out of it by taking it east and putting it on exhibition. After two weeks’ watching he succeeded in getting it. Black Hawk’s burial place was near old Iowaville, on the north side of the Des Moines River, under a big sugar tree. It was there that Dr. Turner severed the head from the body. At the time it was done I was taking care of his sick sister-in-law, Mrs. William Turner. The doctor made his home with his brother. We knew the evening he went to steal the head and sat up to await his coming. He got in with it at four o’clock in the morning and hid it till the afternoon of the same day, when he cooked the flesh off the skull. So I can say that I am the only one now living that witnessed that sight, for it was surely a sight for me. If the rest of Black Hawk’s bones were ever removed it was a good many years after his head was stolen.

The second morning after their ruler’s head was stolen ten of the best Indian warriors came to William Turner’s and asked for his brother, the Doctor. They were painted war style. He told them he did not know where his brother was. They told him they would give him ten days to find his brother, and if he did not find him in that time he would pay the penalty for his brother’s crime. But he knew where his brother was. He was at the home of a neighbor named Robb, Uncle Tommy Robb as he was called by everyone, on the south side of the Des Moines River. But he did not want to find his brother and sent a boy to tell him to fly for Missouri, which he did. The Indians returned to Iowaville to hold council and conclude what to do, and while they were holding council William Turner and his wife made their escape in a canoe down the river. William Turner kept a little store in New Lexington. He got his neighbors to pack and send his goods after him.

But the Indians demanded their ruler’s head, and for three weeks we expected an outbreak every day, but through the influence of their agent and the citizens together they gave up hostilities for a while. The whites told them they would bring Turner to justice if he could be found. The sheriff chased Turner around for awhile, which only gave him the more time to get out of the way. The Turner family finally all went to St. Louis where the Doctor was found again, and to keep the Indians quite the sheriff went to St. Louis in search of him, but he did not find him. He did not want to find him. But Turner got frightened and took Black Hawk’s skull to Quincy, Illinois, and put it in the care of a doctor there for safe-keeping (I forgot the doctor’s name) till the Indians would get settled down, and then he intended to take it east. But when he got ready to go east with it the doctor in Quincy refused to give it up, and he did not dare to go to the law about it, so after all his trouble and excitement he lost Black Hawk’s skull, and not only made Turners endless trouble, but put the lives of all settlers in jeopardy for months. We lived principally on excitement and that was a poor living. But they finally got over it till all was peace and then we were happy. The doctor that had the head took it to Burlington and sold it to a museum and the museum was burned down, so Black Hawk’s skull is not now in existence. The Turner family were warm friends of my father’s family. They stayed in St. Louis two or three years, I don’t remember just how long, and they all three died with the cholera. So I am left alone to tell the story.

The History of the Butterfly, Part 136: The Death of Black Hawk

the roused bear — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 02:08:42 +0000

From Stevens, 1903:

“Black Hawk’s cabin stood about one hundred feet from the north bank of the Des Moines River, a few rods from that of Mr. James H. Jordan, the agent. Near it, on the sloping bank, stood two large trees, an elm and an ash, so intertwined as to appear like one tree. Close by flowed the clear waters of what was known as Black Hawk’s Spring. Here, during the sultry days of summer, he would sit and dreamily ponder over the scenes of his long and turbulent career. Before him was spread that old battlefield on which his nation snatched from the Iowas their country and their homes—the same country then passing to others. Then came a gloomy period of melancholy, which enveloped him so completely that he said but little, and that to his few intimates. In the summer of 1838 a party of Iowas returned on a friendly visit to their old home and Black Hawk held a friendly council with them at a place about half a mile from his cabin. On that spot he directed that his body should be buried…General Street…thoughtfully made the family a present of a cow, a property very unusual with an Indian. This pleased him and the family immensely. Madam Black Hawk and her daughter learned to milk, and during the warm days of 1838 the two were often seen sitting beside their beloved cow, patiently brushing away the troublesome flies and other insects. This daughter, though married, remained with her parents to the time of Black Hawk’s death and, it may be said, was the mainstay in their domestic affairs; a model of neatness. It has been said that she and Madam Black Hawk were so neat that the little yard was swept during the warmer months once a day. One October day was designated as “ration day,” which was attended by nearly every Indian, leaving Black Hawk almost alone. Though he had been sick of a fever for many days, nothing serious was feared. Mr. Jordan was with him to the last moment his official duties would permit, leaving him, as he supposed, on the high road to recovery; but the old man took a sudden turn for the worse and within three hours after Mr. Jordan left his bedside Black Hawk was dead, after a sickness of fourteen days.

During Black Hawk’s sickness his wife, As-shaw-e-qua (Singing Bird), was devoted in her attentions to him and deeply mourned his death. Some days before it occurred she said: “He is getting old; he must die. Monoto calls him home.”

His remains were followed to the grave by the family and about fifty of the tribe, the chiefs and all others being absent at Fort Armstrong to receive their rations. He was buried on the spot selected by him prior to his death…

…His body was placed on the surface of the ground in a sitting posture, with his head toward the southeast, the body supported in position by a wooden slab or puncheon. On his left side was placed a cane given him by Henry Clay, with his right hand resting on it. Three silver medals, the gifts of prominent persons in the east, hung upon his breast. There were also placed in the grave two swords, a quantity of wampum, an extra pair of moccasins and other articles of Indian Costume, with a supply of provisions sufficient to last him three days on his journey to the spirit land. Around the body and the articles buried with him two large blankets were closely wrapped. On his head was placed a military cap elaborately ornamented with feathers. Forked sticks were firmly driven at the head and foot of the grave and across these a pole was placed, extending over the body. Against this pole split puncheons were laid to a peak, the gables of the primitive vault being closed with boards and the whole then sodded over. Near by was a hewn post inscribed with Indian characters. Enclosing all was a strong circular picket fence ten or twelve feet high.”

Dead Mouse in a Tree

the roused bear — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 03:41:03 +0000

It is snowing tonight, but yesterday it was quite warm for Iowa in the winter. Highs were in the 50s.

I did get a chance to get out in the woods on a project. The project was kind of cool, but I will not discuss it here–I will leave that for other people and another time.

I did see a number of small flying insects–I could not spend enough time or effort to identify them. I also saw something that I did not expect.

At about eye level on a thin branch was a mass of something hairy.

It was a dead mouse. It seemed to be laid over the branch–not wedged in or impaled like one might expect if it was some kind of cache.

Dropped by a hawk, perhaps? Or some other bird? Maybe even another mammal?

I don’t know.

The History of the Butterfly, Part 135: Black Hawk Makes a Speech

the roused bear — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 01:33:07 +0000

By 1838, Black Hawk had settled down. He no longer held any official power among the Sauk or Meskwaki, although he still commanded a great deal of respect. He even mingled with the white settlers and seemed to be respected by them. Still, he was an old man, and physically weak. He lived in a small cabin in the northeast corner of what is now Davis County, on the east side of the Des Moines River. There he lived with his two sons and his wife and daughter. Visitors noted that the house was kept very clean. The two women would even sweep the dirt outside of the structure on a regular basis. Black Hawk was invited to a banquet on the fourth of July 1838 in Fort Madison, Iowa. In response to a toast, he got up and gave a little speech. His words were translated and written down. “It has pleased the Great Spirit that I am here to-day. I have eaten with my white friends. The earth is our mother; we are now on it, with the Great Spirit above us. It is good. I hope we are all friends here. A few summers ago I was fighting against you. I did wrong, perhaps, but that is past. It is buried; let it be forgotten. Rock River was a beautiful country. I loved my towns, my cornfields and the home of my people. I fought for it. It is now yours. Keep it as we did. It will produce you good crops. I thank the Great Spirit that I am now friendly with my white brethren. We are here together. We are friends. It is his wish and mine. I thank you for your friendship. I was once a great warrior. I am now poor. Keokuk has been the cause of my present situation, but do not attach blame to him. I am now old. I have looked upon the Mississippi since I was a child. I love the great river. I have dwelt upon its banks from the time I was an infant. I look upon it now. I shake hands with you, and it is my wish, I hope you are my friends.” As quoted in Stevens, 1903.