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Dairy Day

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Dairy Day at the fort dawned particularly hot and muggy, and it never improved. Notwithstanding the heat, however, the proceedings were well-attended, with about a hundred visitors passing through during the day to observe the milking of the goat by its owner, Judy Wilson, and the making of cottage cheese and butter.

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Once the milk had been obtained, Judy demonstrated the making of cottage cheese, first heating the milk over the heart to just shy of a boil, then tossing in a measure of apple cider vinegar which instantly caused the hot milk to separate into curds & whey. After these had cooled, the curds were scooped out and hung in a loose-weave muslin bag to drain, after which they were placed in bowl, flavored with chives, and were ready for serving.

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Finally, Judy explained the process of making butter from cream by the process of vigorous agitation. She displayed two butter churns, one ceramic and one wooden, and described how they worked, and then had several children make a small amount of butter by shaking cream in glass jars.

Premature harvest

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The damage from last night settled the matter. Stalks pulled down, ears ripped off, stripped cobs lying in the grass, debris trailing off toward the woods. The coons have been at it again, and each night with more brazen assaults.

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So I decided, with considerable reluctance, to strip the remaining stalks of all ears, whether ripe or not. Alex our younger blacksmith generously forsook his forge for a time to help in bringing in the sorry harvest.

Mostly the ears were far from ripe, and none of them dried. But to leave them will be to lose them. At least with the corn gone, perhaps the rest of the standing stalks may be spared, which means the beans covering them may be spared and still yield a harvest. As for the corn, it will yield a number of roasting ears, and perhaps a number of ears sufficiently developed to be worth drying. As for the rest, the sheep will relish them, and all the ears will yield green and deep purple husks for Mary Rose to use in her cornhusk dolls.

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Not that the beans have done all that well this year. Last year at this time they were much further along, and fairly smothered the corn with pods. This year the yield looks to be downright meagre.

And as for the squash and pumpkins, a few of the vines are vigorous, with many blossoms, but mostly the vines have just shriveled away for no apparent reason.

It was the corn which was having the best season by far, but now depredations from the racoons have brought an unexpected and unwelcome finale to that story . . . though it’s hardly an untypical frontier tale.

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This Saturday, August 15, from 10 to 4:30, the goats are coming to Pricketts Fort. Come on out and meet a goat face to face, see how a goat is milked, how cottage cheese is made, and butter churned. Watch a delicious cheese pie being baked on the hearth. For more information call 304-363-3030.

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On the whole, so far, it’s been a good season for growing, with only a few short stretches of dry weather when it was necessary to spend a morning hauling buckets to the field in the wheelbarrow. For the most part the rain has come when needed and in ample portion. The corn especially has done well, particularly in the southeast quadrant of the field where the mule manure was laid down liberally, and where the corn was Red Stalker (collected first in the 1820s by a gentleman in New England from the Seneca tribe). This is the second year we have grown it here at the fort and it is a vigorous performer indeed. Already it stands about eight feet tall, and has numerous well-developed ears. Many visitors remark on its unusual beauty, ranging in colour from bright green to a deep brooding purple like sultry blood.

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There are, in addition, two other varieties of heirloom corn in the field–a type of early dent corn in washed-out earth tones which is said to be of native origin, and a type of early popcorn, such as the pioneers liked to pop on their hearths during the long winter evenings.

julycorn4 A couple of weeks ago, I had spent a long quiet afternoon hoeing among the rows, with nothing but the rustling of a hundred corn leaves to lull my thoughts. I went out again among the corn the following morning to find myself immersed in a kind of continuous low-grade roaring that came at me from every side and never let up. Looking up at the tassels over my head, I saw that I was surrounded by perhaps a thousand honey bees, with a dozen bees or more on the tassels of each individual stalk, drunk on nectar, loaded with golden pollen. Probably my field had been discovered by a single bee early that morning and it had returned to the hive, communicated intricate directions in a frenzied dance, and sent the entire population of the hive to garner the sweet treasure of this antique corn.

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A few days ago a beautiful new firearm appeared on the table just inside the door of the blacksmith shop here at Pricketts Fort. It was Greg Bray’s new rifle. Not quite a full-blown Pennsylvania longrifle from the “Golden Age”, it is based on an earlier firearm by the Lancaster county gunsmith Issac Hains, who worked during the “transitional period” (1760s).

Rifles fashioned by German gunsmiths in Pennsylvania during those years retained a number of characteristics of the European Jaeger, a large-bore (.60 -.75 cal.), big-game rifle from central Europe, with stocks reaching to the end of the muzzle, barrels from 30 to 36 inches (occasionally longer) and often profuse carving of the entire stock. In America, rifles built on the basic Jaeger model gradually grew smaller in the bore and longer in the barrel, evolving eventually into the classic Pennsylvania longrifle with barrels as long as 48 inches and calibers between .40 and .50.

Greg’s Issac Hains-inspired model has a .54 caliber 37-inch octagon barrel and a full curly maple stock with a hinged brass patch box. Except for the lock and barrel, all components were fashioned by Greg himself.

It is a beautiful weapon, much more so than my poor photos can convey. If I can persuade Lee Miller with his fancy camera, to stop by sometime when Greg has his rifle on hand, perhaps I can get some better shots to post here instead.

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Saturday, July 11 was Celtic Heritage Day at Pricketts Fort, featuring 18th century traditions of Brittany, England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, with activities that included kilt-wrapping demonstration, bagpiping, an appearance by the West Virginia Highland Dancers, a “Bonnie Knees Contest”, sword & fencing demonstrations, tug of war, spinning, weaving & bobbin lace demonstrations, and storytelling.celtman

To the question of how many Celts were actually on the frontier in the 1770s, the answer would be “a very great many indeed”, but that nearly all of them were Scotch-Irish. These were not the kilt-wearing, bagpiping Scots of the highlands, but rather Scottish lowlanders, mostly impoverished, who migrated to Ulster in northern Ireland from about 1610 on, in hopes of improving their lot. What brought them in vast numbers to the American colonies about a century later was a combination of political & religious oppression and severe economic hardship.

So considerable were their numbers that by the time of the American Revolution, somewhere between one in every ten to fifteen colonists was Scotch-Irish. From their earliest appearance in the colonies, the majority of Scotch-Irish gravitated directly to the back-country, from Pennsylvania southward as far as Georgia. They were among the vanguard of pioneers who moved into the Ohio Valley region, including the Monongahela valley, just prior to and after the Revolution.

As a people the Scotch-Irish were quick to adapt themselves to frontier conditions, often learning woodcraft and survival techniques directly from the Indians and so, not surprisingly, were soon famous as Indian fighters. The great majority of Scotch-Irish were ardent supporters of the American cause in the Revolution, naturally chafing under any outside authority and possessing little love for the Crown. Notable Scotch-Irish frontiersmen included George Rogers Clark and Andrew Jackson.

Source: James G. Leyburn, The Scotch-Irish: A Social History (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1962).

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recruit1b Recruiting new militiamen for an expedition against the Shawnee in the Ohio Territory, on the Cuyahoga River, took place on July 4th and 5th at Pricketts Fort, with indifferent success reported.

Although a fair number of interested men initially stepped forward to join the ranks, once it was explained to them that, at the end of the campaign in three or four months time, they would be paid the very liberal sum of one dollar per month in gold & silver, that they would be required to provide a good effective firearm and, if possible, a bayonet fitted thereto (or at the least a hatchet or tomahawk), as well as a serviceable cartridge box and woolen blanket, and that they would be expected to cover 30 or 40 miles per day whilst hoisting a 50-pound pack, musket & appurtenances, enthusiasm for the noble venture fell off remarkably.

Nevertheless, a dozen or so brave fellows were recruited on the spot, their signatures affixed to paper, their hands clasped & their backs clapped. In the case of one young fellow, his signature was actually put to paper by his most determined mother, who wielded the quill in the face of the young fellow’s strenous objections. “It will stiffen your spine,” she told him.

Several times throughout the day, the recruiting party paraded in front of the fort to the beat of a drum and fired off their muskets, hoping to stimulate a somewhat sharper degree of interest among the assembled public.

Alas, though the number of visitors to the fort comprised a very respectable crowd, and the militiamen put on a splendid show, the boys and men of the present-day Monongahela Valley displayed but a modicum of ardour for joining the ranks of their fellows and marching off to glory.

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OstenacopaintingParticipants in the 2009 Woodland Indian Camp at Pricketts Fort were witness to a rare event on Wednesday evening, July 1: the appearance of one of the most widely renowned and honored of Cherokee chiefs, the mid-eighteenth century orator and warrior Ostenaco (portrayed by historian and re-enactor Doug Wood).

During the early 1760s, Ostenaco moved in the highest circles of British colonial society, attending formal dinners at William and Mary College and in Williamsburg.  In 1762 Ostenaco sailed to England in the select company of several Cherokee chiefs and British officers.  The evening before his departure he made a farewell speech to his people. 
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Among his listeners was a young Thomas Jefferson, who recorded his impression of the Cherokee leader:  I knew much of the great Outassete (Ostenaco), the warrior and orator of the Cherokee. He was always the guest of my father on his journeys to and from Williamsburg. I was in his camp when he made his great farewell oration to his people the evening before he departed for England. The moon was in full splendour, and to her he seemed to address himself in his prayers for his own safety on the voyage and that of his people during his absence. His sounding voice, distinct articulation, animated action, and the solemn silence of his people at their several fires, filled me with awe and veneration, although I did not understand a single word he uttered.

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While in London, Ostenaco drew crowds wherever he went, including a young Oliver Goldsmith, among the most famous of English poets, who waited for three hours to present him with a gift.   The internationally famous painter Joshua Reynolds, portraitist to aristocrats and kings across Europe, painted Ostenaco’s portrait, and he was presented to King George III. 

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Ostenaco, during his lifetime, fought in numerous wars, including the French & Indian War, the Anglo-Cherokee War, the Chickamauga wars and the American Revolution.  In the long course of these wars, he both fought alongside American colonists as an ally, and later against them as enemies.  After his people were defeated by the Americans in 1776, he was among the leaders who led them westward as refugees into Tennessee.

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2hawksspeaking The appearance of Ostenaco was only one of many features awaiting participants in this year’s Woodland Indian Camp at Pricketts Fort.  The camp lasted for three days, and included a sleepover encampment on the final night.

On the first morning participants were introduced to the general subject of frontier life in the 1700s, including a history of Pricketts Fort.  After lunch, Two Hawks (Aaron Bosnick), the organizer and driving force behind this year’s Woodland Indian Camp,  gave an extended presentation on native life skills, covering clothing, equipment and food.  Participants were instructed in  the basic skills of living in a native community, how to prepare food, how to hunt, fish and trap, preparing for the trail, and participating in a war party.

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A lesson by Mary Rose Mustachio in making corn husk dolls and decoys finished out the first day.

2hawks1 The second morning began with Two Hawks explaining how to read pictographs and wildlife signs on the trail, capped off by an extended hike through the forest near the fort.

After lunch the students witnessed a trading session between Two Hawks and a frontier trader (Lee Miller).  The students were invited to join in, assisting in exchanges of furs for trade goods.  Later, Two Hawks explained the history and uses of wampum.

screechOn the third morning Pricketts Fort was visited by a member of the Lower Eastern Ohio Mekoce Shawnee tribe of West Virginia, who brought a screech owl from their raptor center and spoke its habits and importance in the ecosystem and the necessity of offering it continued protection.

This was followed by a session of music and dance, leading up to lunch.

After lunch, the afternoon was given over entirely to traditional Native American games:  the Dice Game, the Pin Game, Chunky Stone, Cherokee Marbles, Corncob Yard Darts, and that perennial favorite: Stickball, which began with a history of the game and an explanation of its rules, after which everyone joined in to play it in the spacious area between the Visitors Center and the Fort.

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After the games, once everyone had rested, washed up and had dinner, Ostenaco, who had joined in the play, made his presentation to the group, talking about his life and role in the history of the country.  Later, sitting around the fire, Ostenaco, Two Hawks and all the students talked and told stories until the call came for — Lights Out!  — and everyone rolled out their sleeping bags on the floor of the main cabins in the fort.  Two Hawks, much to the incredulity of everyone, disdained to sleep in the comfort of a modern nylon mummy bag, and instead snored away contentedly through the cold night, rolled up in a deer hide and buffalo robe.

cornfortMany of these days lately I have spent much of my time hoeing among the corn hills in the field outside the fort.  Not long ago, while I was bent to my task, I gradually grew aware that someone was watching me.  I straightened up slowly (in negotiation with my arthritis), and turned to discover that I was being closely observed by a small boy.

“Howdy,”  I said.  He continued to study me with a serious face.  At length he seemed to gather himself up.  I could see a question coming.

“Isn’t that.., what you’re doing..,  isn’t it like..,  you know..,    just really boring?” 

I stood pondering for a few moments.  It was a serious question and deserved a serious answer. 

“Well,”  I said,  “that’s a pretty good question.  A lot of people watching me hoe this corn every day must wonder the same thing, but you’re the first one who’s ever asked me. 

So let’s think about it.   —   If you were here in this field hoeing corn some two hundred and thirty years ago, when everything for a hundred miles in every direction was a howling wilderness and you were all alone out here with just your young wife and a baby waiting for you back in the cabin, and you were working hard to bring on a crop of corn and beans and squash, somehow I really doubt that the question of whether or not you were bored would even occur to you. 

 The only question you’d be asking yourself is whether, come the first heavy snows of November, you would have enough food laid by to see you through the next five or six months, or whether this would turn out to the winter that you and your family would starve.”

The abrupt ending, landing emphatically on the verb starve, and just stopping there, made his eyes grow wider. 

“Oh,”  he said.

soldier5bTo All Brave, Healthy, Able Bodied and Well Disposed Young Men, in this Vicinity, Who have any Inclination to Join the Troops now Raisng under General Hand, at Fort Pitt, for the Defence of the Liberties & Independence of the United States against the Hostile Designs of Foreign Enemies

TAKE NOTICE,

that Saturday, July Fourth, at Pricketts Fort, Monongalia County, at the confluence of the Monongahela River & Pricketts Creek, attendance will be given by Captain Springer of the Monongalia County militia, commanded by Colonel Zacquill Morgan, for purpose of receiving the enrollment of such youth of spirit, as may be willing to enter into this HONOURABLE service.

The ENCOURAGEMENT at this time, to enlist, is truly liberal & generous, namely, a bounty of TWELVE dollars a year in GOLD & SILVER money on account of pay, the whole of which the soldier may lay up for himself & friends, as all articles proper for his subsistence & comfort are provided by law, without any expence to him.

Those who may favour this recruiting party with their attendance as above, will have an opportunity of hearing & seeing, in a more particular manner, the great advantages which these brave men will have, who shall embrace this opportunity of spending a few happy years in viewing the different parts of this beautiful continent, in the honourable & truly respectable character of a soldier, after which, he may, if he pleases, return home to his friends, with his pockets FULL of money & his head COVERED with laurels.

GOD SAVE THE UNITED STATES

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