Endangered Species

On the eastern side of Ransom County you can find a patch of ground called the Pigeon Point Preserve which is maintained by the Nature Conservancy. Their stated mission is to conserve the lands and waters where a diversity of life thrives. On its 571 acres they’ve identified at least fifteen rare plants growing and flowering in an undisturbed environment. Not only is wild plant life conserved there, it is also an important historic spot in the county being the overnight stop between Forts Abercrombie and Ransom.

Given my present stage in life, I’m finding heroes in the authors and thinkers who have pointed to the need for conservation of resources. In 1962 the biologist Rachel Carson published her popular book Silent Spring. This book had a huge impact and led to the passage of the Endangered Species Act in 1973, an event for which we just marked its 50th anniversary.

Carson’s book awakened an environmental consciousness which led to regulating the use of

pesticides and the banning of DDT. When she came out against DDT the chemical manufacturing companies exhibited their ire and started a name-calling campaign to discredit her. Carson was unmarried without children which prompted one critic to raise it to the level of sexism and say of her, “Why is a spinster without children concerned about genetics?” 

The topic interested enough of the general population to buy over two million copies of Silent Spring. What triggered her research into the topic and caused her to write a book about her findings? One of her friends had written a letter describing the death of birds around her property that she blamed on the spraying of DDT to kill mosquitoes. This was in the days of scientists starting to wonder about the effects of fallout from atomic tests, so it was an easy crossover to look at chemical sprays, too. Rachel possessed a scientific aptitude and naturally became interested.

She and other scientists noticed that an unusual thing began developing in the bird world, egg shells were thin and infertile. It was especially notable in the dwindling bald eagle population whereby in 1966 only 487 pairs existed. Since they were the national symbol, an alarm went off. On close inspection, investigators saw that DDT spray used to control mosquitoes had seeped into the ground, affected the water supply, entered the fish population, and poisoned the eagles when they ate them.

DDT use has stopped and look at the situation now. Bald eagles today number over 300,000

making it one of the nation's greatest conservation success stories. Rachel Carson’s determined stance is held in high regard by the conservation community and is credited with breaking through the so-called “glass ceiling” that kept women from being heard.

Birds aren’t the only species benefiting from the legislation. Fish, wildlife, and plants are all

included. Thirty-nine species have been fully recovered, including 23 in the last 10 years.                                                                        It’sbeen estimated the Endangered Species Act has prevented the extinction of roughly 291 species since passage in 1973.

I remember when a fish species called a snail darter came under protection and stopped a dam’s construction in Tennessee. Critics pointed to what they thought was an insignificant creature and dam builders accused the action of environmental overreach. Things worked out, the dam did get built and some of the snail darters were moved to another area. Apparently none of it was necessary because snail darters were later found elsewhere.

Do we hear a meadowlark’s song from the top of a fencepost like we used to. It doesn’t seem like it. And Monarch butterflies? Just a few years ago we woke here in Fargo to find dead butterflies covering the ground. Sure enough, aerial spraying the night before was the cause. Whatever the brand of spray used, it proved to be the culprit. The city just shrugged its shoulders and promised to do better next time.

I know people who would like to eradicate a particular animal in the western part of the state. Prairie dogs dig holes in their pastures. Some even invite hunters to come onto their property and shoot them for target practice. Sorry to say, but my rancher in-laws probably won’t like the fact that Prairie dogs are a keystone species. That means they are a species upon which other animals depend, and removal of these species from the ecosystem would cause changes to ecosystem function.

We started this piece talking about the place called Pigeon Point. More than one type of pigeon has existed and the breed called a “passenger pigeon,” although now extinct, was probably the species for which Pigeon Point was named. The name was derived from the French word passager, meaning "passing by", due to the migratory habits of the species.

John James Audubon, the famous name in bird lore, related one experience he had with them. He said, “The air was literally filled with Pigeons; the light of noon-day was obscured as by an eclipse…” One of the old time residents of Owego said they’d roost so thickly in the trees you could bat them down with a stick.

I remember a feeling of sadness when I read of the last pigeon’s death in the New Yorker

magazine. A boy in Ohio shot one which biologists identified as the last one in the wild. Another one living in a zoo died in 1914. There are plenty of pigeons today, but they are probably Rock Pigeons or common city pigeons.

All indications point to the fact that the multitude of species must be protected to maintain the ecological diversity that has brought us to this point. I for one do not wish to live in a

moonscape. And I hope to get to Pigeon Point this year when the rare Prairie Fringed Orchid

blossoms this year.

He Returned to the County

 

After the large Sibley Exhibition passed through Ransom County in 1863 at least

one of its participants liked what he saw and returned to live here after the Civil

War ended. He served as a “wagoner,” or a muleskinner, driving a six-hitch supply

wagon.

    We’re interested in the fact that his feat as an old man of seventy-seven prompted

the local Progress editor to write a feature story about it. James M. Kinney had

walked from his home somewhere on the Sheyenne River, a distance of sixteen

miles, in six hours time. On March 10, 1911, snow still covered the ground, in fact

fresh snow had fallen the night before. He remarked he could’ve arrived in

Sheldon sooner, but the snow slowed him.

    Reaching town about two P.M. he had to spend the night until the Northern Pacific

train arrived in the morning on its way to Lisbon. His purpose for traveling was to

spend the winter in the North Dakota Soldiers Home. As was common, overnight

guests often found amusement at Chauncey Durgin’s saloon. That evening

Kinney’s story telling attracted an audience who sat listening to his experiences on

the Dakota plains.

    His early employment of driving a stagecoach in Minnesota wasn’t exciting

enough. He wanted action on the Indian frontier. On his last day he pulled in from

a trip, delivered the mail, and let someone else tend to his team. He walked over to

a recruiter and joined the ranks of Company B, 10th Minnesota as a wagoner under

General Sibley’s command.

    He found action, all right. Before crossing into Dakota Territory, his company kept

engaging in little skirmishes where in one engagement the Indians succeeded in

killing several of their horses. The soldiers fought from behind the dead animals.

When all was said and done Sibley declared his expedition a success that would

prevent further attacks by Indians. They’d traveled 1039 miles in a little less than

three months.

    Now Kinney was free to join the Northern war effort in the Civil War where he

again served as a wagoner. It didn’t take long before he climbed higher in the ranks

by being named chief wagoner. Maybe he was no angel since in the South he

participated in some high jinks. The Union army raided cotton warehouses

whenever they found them. Kinney and the boys tried their hand at a little blackmarketing

 by stuffing cotton in the bottom of their wagon boxes and covering it up

with false flooring. Their effort at marketing didn’t make them any extra pocket

change though since the scheme was discovered.

    A blank spot in Kinney’s life occurs with no paper trail to uncover it. A personal

experience caused me to become interested in his life. I have relatives buried in

much of the sandhill area. While placing memorial flowers in the Owego Lutheran

Church Cemetery I noticed a solitary gravestone on the west edge, its white marble

defined against a green field of corn.

    When he was buried the gravesite had not been marked with a stone. Possibly there

had been a wooden cross which would have soon rotted. His death occurred in

1915, but not until 1939 was a stone grave marker placed. Colonel J. W. Carroll,

Commandant of the North Dakota Soldiers Home, applied for a headstone with the

War Department. He was most likely prompted by the local cemetery board to

make the request.

    I have a copy of the paperwork requesting government action which states “This

application is for the UNMARKED grave of a veteran. It is understood the stone

will be furnished and delivered at the railroad station or steamboat landing above

indicated, at Government expense, freight prepaid.”

    One man was named to receive the shipment - Mr. Henry Ylvisaker. As a

committee member overseeing the cemetery he was to see that the marker was

properly placed. A pencilled notation on the application states it was shipped to

him on August 9, 1939. Are we permitted to imagine a scene on a hot day when

Ylvisaker returned from the train station with this article of freight? Then with the

help of another man or two helping to lift it in place accompanied by a prayer from

the pastor and song of a meadowlark filling the air.

RANDOM THOUGHTS - Monday, January 29, 2024

 Good to hear of a SHS reunion in June  …  I hear a meadowlark song every time I tune in to Prairie Public radio’s “Dakota Datebook”  …  What’s my guide: instinct or reasoning?  …  Our first son turned 48 years old, some gray  …  A burning question: where will Hutch land? … I’ve joined “Ransom County Historical Society Group” and entered my first post about fords crossing the Sheyenne  …  Watch “Time Team” on Youtube about English archaeology  …  Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift, which is why we call it the present  …  A historical tombstone in Bismarck pictured below  …  

Fording the River

  Any traffic between Fort Abercrombie and Fort Ransom needed to contend with the Sheyenne River. No bridges crossed it which left two choices available to travelers. The so-called “high-water trail” ran around the river’s big bend and the much shorter, but straighter “low-water trail” which crossed two fords. Because of its being shin deep the spelling of one has evolved to Shenford and the other was known by several names: Harris, Brunton, or Black Tiger. 

RANDOM THOUGHTS - January 19, 2024

 

Is it spring yet? … I hope my writing isn’t like this in Macbeth, “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” … Travels with Charley has a scene where John Steinbeck camps overnight near Alice, ND … My pen is a conduit of thought … One fella I know learned just how fast he could run when chased by a bull … Our chair originally sat in the Sheldon bank … At one time the holes in our jeans were honestly earned … Warmer temps on the way … I’ve found the less I do, the less I can do …

Humble Beginnings

The first wheat grown in Ransom County was seeded by Helmuth Schultz. After a successfulgrowing season, he and John McCusker cut the ripened straw with their scythes and gathered itup. When it had dried, they repeatedly drove their oxen over it until all the kernels had been trampled from the heads. We can imagine the next step in the scene by watching the men tossing forkfuls of it high in the air for the chaff to blow away on the breeze. Finally, with the wheat kernels separated, they sacked and hauled it forty miles to Fargo.

    According to the historian Hiram Drache this all happened in 1875. He includes a chart titled “Population growth of Northern Pacific Railway Counties in North Dakota,” where we learn in

1880 only 537 people lived in the county. After the railroad came through in 1882, the number

jumped to 4,282 in 1885.

    The slow trip taken by Schultz to Fargo was necessary if pioneer farmers wanted to sell their wheat or have it ground into flour. For several years the settlers faced this hindrance, and not until the railroad came through did they have an option. 

    In a meadow on the farm where I grew up ran a pair of tracks cut by wagon wheels. Inquisitive, I asked Dad why they were there. He’d been told it was once the wagon trail between Owego and Sheldon where settlers traveled to do business in Sheldon. When I placed a ruler down to connect the two locations, I proved to myself

the wagon tracks in our meadow lay right on the line.

    The progress of the early railroads was followed closely in the newspapers. The March, 1882 Bismarck Tribune reported “The Fargo & Southwestern has fifty miles graded to New Lisbon,

the county seat of Ransom County, no work having been done this winter.” Later the same article stated, “Emigrants are pouring in to the country at an astonishing rate, making it an object to

build railroads rapidly.”

    Perhaps the old proverb about haste making waste applies here. In September of 1882 as the construction crew kept pushing forward and lengthening the track, a horrific accident occurred five miles out of Davenport. A steam engine backed up too far, dropped off the end of the new track, and tipped. The escaping steam scalded the engineer to death. Work did not stop for long

and soon the crew returned to its work.

    The Northern Pacific immediately saw benefits in catering to farmers. So-called emigrant cars delivered farm families, their equipment, and their animals to a new life. It shipped lumber and

other building supplies to them as well as to the new businesses setting up shop. When the train headed back to Fargo it carried the wheat and animals that farmers had started producing.

    In March,1882, the superintendent of the local line said they were grading up convenient and ample driveways on side tracks where farmers can load wheat into cars. He went on explaining that in many cases the grade will rise to where the top of the wagon will be level with the boxcar door. In spite of the railroad’s effort to accommodate the farmer, this was still shovel work.

    As people arrived in the county to settle on the land, the landscape of this tall grass prairie began

changing. Moldboard plows cut into the dense sod and turned it over to prepare for crop seeding.

As the amount of tilled acres increased, the classic clash of cattle and crops was inevitable.

    Farmers didn’t appreciate their cattle or those owned by their neighbors walking over their

promising wheat crop. Nor would a farmer’s wife hold her temper when the neighbor’s bull

stood in her garden. The answer came down to two choices: herd the animals or fence the fields.

A brief mention in an 1886 edition of The Enterprise pointed to the preferred solution. “Barbed wire is going off so fast that Karl E. Rudd ordered his second carload this week. He is selling it

very low and farmers are taking advantage of it.”

    Watching a man plowing caused one of the western artist Charley Russell’s Indian friends to remark, “Wrong side up.” That was the case in those severe drought years in the 1930s, especially in the fragile sandy soil in the eastern part of the county. The sand dunes created by the wind have now been tamed with a grass cover, but the undulating landscape remains. Letters sent to someone in McLeod in its early days actually went to the town of Sandoun.

    While the land was blowing away, residents also had to contend with the historic depression that strangled the economy. The election of 1932 brought Franklyn Delano Roosevelt to the presidency. He soon set out to bring relief to the country suffering from this “double whammy.”

    Part of his attention turned to areas like these sandhills in Ransom County where the sod was“wrong side up” and farmers had begun leaving. Roosevelt’s response was to create the Resettlement Administration (RA) which resettled farmers on more productive land, promoted soil conservation, provided emergency relief and loaned money to help farmers buy and improve

farms.

    The politics of his actions aside, the foregoing outlines the county’s beginnings. We must conclude and skip to the present day where we recognize the land is filled with farm families, the

Fargo & Southwestern still rolls down its tracks, the fragile sandhills have healed, and fences keep livestock in. Modernization and improvements have delivered the area to its present status,

that of being one of the nicest in the state.

RANDOM THOUGHTS - January 4, 2024

 RANDOM THOUGHTS - January 4, 2024

I ate coconut cream pie this noon at the Sons of Norway … another traffic death who wasn’t wearing a seatbelt … Garrison Keillor told the story about all his friends were dying off and now he’s walking around with a joke in his head with no one to tell it to … I’m rereading Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring. What a game changer she was … When constructing the railroad track towards Sheldon, a steam engine ran off the end of the track, tipped over, and scalded the engineer to death …