Buffalo, SD was part of the 'wild, wild West!'

Growing up in northwestern South Dakota and southwestern North Dakota, my father thought of himself as a 'cowboy.' Of course, that was partially true, since his father had a herd of cattle near Buffalo, SD. All of those experiences influenced my dad, and gave him plenty of 'wild west' stories to tell.

I remember Daddy telling of the time he was allowed to go to town (Buffalo) with his Uncle Mert (see the photo in a previous post which shows Milo Merton, my great-uncle). The story goes like this...

My father was about 14 years old, and accompanied Uncle Mert to the town of Buffalo. Back in those days, cattle were allowed to roam free on the prairie, eating the rich prairie grass that provided their sustenance. (My dad always used to say that it was a huge mistake when farmers came and plowed up that rich grass, since its roots ran about 6 or 7 feet deep into that dry soil, and that kept the prairie covered with grass that grew heartily even in those often droughty conditions). But, along came farmers from various parts of the 'east' and did their farming with methods that worked fine where there was plenty of rain and loamy soil to allow crops to grow. In the Dakotas, that soil is not the same. It is sandy, and very dry, with sometimes constant wind to make growing a crop nearly impossible. Because of this error in judgement on the part of the farmers who settled there, prairie grass soon became the 'enemy,' and one they made every effort to remove. This began range wars between the cattle men and the farmers (or 'honyockers,' as my father used to call them...)

So, meanwhile, back at the saloon in Buffalo on a Saturday night when my dad was allowed to tag along with Uncle Mert.... Guns were a common sight in those untamed lands, since there were plenty of coyotes and other 'varmints' that might be interested in killing and consuming young calves or other livestock that those settlers might have. And, the owners of the taverns were not thrilled with the idea of imbibing men with their guns strapped to their hips, so they collected the guns at the door of the saloon. 

Uncle Mert began to have a few beers (remember, this is a very parched countryside, and a cowboy worked up a big thirst out there, minding his cattle). Unfortunately, at the same time, in the same saloon, was a 'honyocker' named Mr. Pringle. Well, Mr. Pringle was not happy with Uncle Mert, because although he had fenced in his fields, Uncle Mert's cattle had no respect for fences, and usually plowed right through them on their way to 'greener pastures.' These two men were natural enemies, due to the nature of their occupations! 

Apparently, Mr. Pringle also enjoyed a few beers on a Saturday night, so both he and Uncle Mert were 'high as a kite,' as my father would describe them. They got into an argument, which developed into a fist fight, and then got pretty ugly. In the end, Mr. Pringle lost either the tip of his nose, or part of an ear, to Uncle Mert's bite! 

Of course, that hullabaloo brought the sheriff to the tavern, and both men, as well as my father who had accompanied Uncle Mert inside the saloon, were taken to the local jail. I do not know how long Uncle Mert was detained, nor the end condition of Mr. Pringle (sans small piece of his head...), but my father was released after the sheriff found out that he was just 14 years old. (I never thought to ask my father how he got back home, or if they had moved into town, once the homestead was established, but he survived to tell me the story, so he must have found a way.)

 David and our dog Lady walking on the 'crop' the current land-owner had planted on the old homestead south of Buffalo, SD. Nothing came up, so I suppose he got government assistance. There were plenty of snake skeletons and large beetles out there, and plenty of weeds. No crop. No lovely tall prairie grass either...

Honyocker - Old northwest cowboy slang for a failed homestead farmer. Almost as bad as calling a cowboy a sheep herder. Cattle people never liked homesteaders and all their barbed wire fences.

1889 - "This whole town is wall to wall honyockers, bankers and sheep shit." (from Urban Dictionary)

I often heard my father use this term 'honyockers' for the farmers in the area where they ran their cattle.

More tales to come... Stay tuned!