Morse Coffin Reminisces

In my letters to the Ledger a year or so ago I purposely dropped a few leaves so now with your sanction will take them up, especially as this is the 50th anniversary of these little events of a pilgrims experiences, though nothing of a wonderful nature at all - just plain, everyday matters.

Jun 13th or 14th, 1859, we encamped on the banks of Wood River - a nice little stream emptying into the Platte a few miles below - some ten miles below Fort Kearney. Being now at the edge of the buffalo range, next morning Jim Pell and I started out for a romp to see what we could find. When the teams started up the road we started off north and northwest over a more or less rolling country and later were out of sight of the Platte and timber along it. Saw antelope and plenty of coyotes and some grey wolves, a couple of which we killed. We made a long circle, and toward the middle of the day were travelling south and southwest over a level plain toward the Platte. Here we discovered out first buffalo, four in number, coming straight toward us along a well traveled path. We were meeting them. They were in single file with heads down and thin long foretops prevented them from seeing us. As they came straight on toward us we were half inclined to be frightened, especially as there was no tree or other obstruction in sight to hide behind. At last when very near - say twenty rods or so - they apparently "got our wind - smelled us - and throwing up their heads turned off a little and galloped by us, but they looked so immense in size they seemed to move so slow and it seemed to me I could outrun them.

I had a double barreled gun - one a rifle and a good one; the other a heavy, smooth bore carrying buckshot, and Jim had a rather light but good rifle. We decided on the leader for our meat and gave him (we called them all bulls but I am now less sure of this) the three charges and heard the lead splat him, but instead of falling they all ran the faster. We followed and in a mile or so crossed Wood river. We were confident the one we hit must soon fall and were bound to have him, or anyway they must all stop running some time, so we followed them away north all the afternoon in general, though we had two side adventures with two lone ones, one of which we thought we had given his death wound, and when we passed over a ridge and saw a dead buffalo a little way off and thought it was ours, but instead it belonged to the wolves. Disgust was our portion. Still we kept the course our buffalo went. We tried to flag an antelope up to us for a shot, but did not quite succeed.

At last when the sun was nearly down we saw our buffalo - the four - pass over a divide two or three miles beyond. Then we turned on back track to the south and soutwest. We knew we were a long way from anyplace. About this time we began to realize how green we were. Up to near this time we had resolved to eat some buffalo meat, even if we had to eat it raw, and to take a small piece to camp to show our fellows we had killed what we went for.

We were far from any landmarks and Jim contended my course was wrong. We tramped as we guessed until 10 o'clock when Jim chugged his gun on the ground and said: "Coffin, I'll be damned if I will go another step." He had been nearly played out for hours. So we looked around and found a place where the soil was scooped out by the elements and Jim lay down with back to the bank and did not get up until daylight. I was clothed far best for walking, thin overalls, cotton shirt, and straw hat, while Jim was dressed best for sleeping out, and I then realized, what has since been confirmed, that the weather must be very warm for one to lie on the ground and keep comfortable in no more clothes than I wore at that time. I was up and down all night keeping tab on my direction, and only napped a little.

At break of day we resumed our tramp, and soon passing a divide saw the Platte valley and its heavy fringe of cottonwood. Could also see several pilgrim camps of tents and covered wagons, though several miles away. We soon discovered a big herd of buffalo - likely a hundred or more - which was started from near the river and being fired on by many campers. They came on a wild stampede, almost directly for us, passing very near; the earth jarring under our feet. We fired at the compact mass, but so far as results were visible might have well have fired in the opposite direction.

After striking the road we found our camp a mile or so further about 10 a.m., and found our boys jerking the meat of their buffalo killed the day before. They had cut it in small strips and had it drying on a frame of boughs, a fire underneath. So the other boys had beaten us easily and we felt cheap enough.