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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781463435349 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 08/26/2011 |
| Pages: | 172 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.56(d) |
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Catahoula Lake Chronicles
The View From Indian BluffBy Jack Willis
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Jack WillisAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-3535-6
Chapter One
Catahoula Lake Silent Flora Sentinel & Guardian: The Lone "Bodock"
For hundreds of years, visitors to Indian Bluff on the north shores of Catahoula Lake in LaSalle Parish may or may not have taken notice of a lone sentinel near the edge of the bluff bank. A rendering of this tree by the author graces the cover of this book. There were other species of flora in the nearby vicinity-including another burdock tree or two—but because of its unusual countenance and configuration, this particular tree stood defiantly alone with great dignity.
This self-imposed guardian of the bluff was a species that went by a variety of names, with the most common being "bodock", which is a colloquialism of the name first given the tree by early French fur traders. The trappers had noted, on their journeys west of the Mississippi from their Far North bases, that the Osage Indians encountered in their travels used the curved limbs of the tree from which to fashion their hunting bows, thus they named it "bois d' arc" or "wood of the arrow."
This particular bois d' arc tree had no doubt been buffeted for centuries by prevailing southerly winds and gales from across the lake, causing the tree's lean to give it a personal identity of its own—setting it apart and drawing instant attention in later years for endless photographs by visitors to the promontory.
This tree, no doubt, witnessed many splendiferous dawns and sunsets while guarding the awe-inspiring one-of-a-kind basin, erroneously called a lake, nestled in Central Louisiana. It probably beheld countless spring and fall solstice rituals executed by Native American tribal chiefs and shamans honoring the Great Spirit.
This same tree probably observed the night flight in 1732 of the Natchez Indians presenting a torch-lit procession of rafts being poled across the lake from the area of what is today Stock Landing, as they were escaping a French regiment bent on capturing or killing them. The Natchez Tribe had gotten enough of the cruelty doled out by the French occupiers of Fort Rosalie in Natchez, sacking and burning the fort and killing over a hundred French citizens in 1729. Three years later the Indians, now finally being pursued by a contingent of French soldiers bent on revenge—were flushed from their refuge in Saline swamp and forced to flee northward across this vast, unpredictable body of water. Traditional tales tell of the Indians burying their loot near Indian Bluff, giving rise to innumerable tales of a fabled Natchez Treasure.
Up until the 1990's Indian Bluff was a sentimentally favorite visitation vista for Sunday afternoon carloads of people seeking a diversion, who would motor out to view one of the great wonders of the State of Louisiana. But that is not the case anymore because the road to the bluff proper is now inaccessible. The owner of the land surrounding the famous headland has fenced off the only travelable access road. And who can blame him? People from South Louisiana with no regard for the physical appearance of this popular tourist attraction started trashing the site. After repeated warnings, he just got tired of their ill manners and lack of respect for such a magnificent site and shut the visitations down. And that's a shame because the moon rising over the east end of the lake is a diorama that should be captured for National Geographic.
The bois d' arc tree is actually a member of the mulberry family and related to a fig-it bears a greenish-yellow fruit, four to six inches in diameter; it's also known as the horse apple or Osage orange. Each fruit ball contains approximately 300 seeds and wholesale harvesting of the oranges was once a very lucrative business in central Texas in the 1870's, where they sold for $25.00 to $50.00 a bushel. The seeds or seedlings, if planted in rows, could be utilized in 8-10 years as a very effective substitute for a fence enclosure for cattle, so a market for the seeds opened up all across the Midwest, because barbed wire hadn't been invented yet. Early settlers were supposed to have referred to a 'bodock' fence as being "horse high, bull strong and pig tight." It was said that the inventor of barbed wire, Joseph F. Gliddens from Illinois, got the idea of fence wire with thorns woven into it from observing the thorny trees on his farm.
The Latin name for the tree, which grows to a height of 50-60 feet with a trunk 1-2 feet in diameter, is Maclura pomifera, and was named for a geologist William McClure, (1763-1840) who once explored the area.
Native Americans used the sap of the outer bark in the tanning of hides and pelts, with the sap from the inner bark furnishing a bright yellow dye for clothing—it was also used to decorate tepees, war horses and war shields. The sap of the tree is of a latex consistency, and contains a natural built-in pesticide which the Indians used around the interior of their dwellings and out buildings to ward off insects.
It is matter of record that Charley Goodnight, an early Texas cattle baron, invented the first "chuck wagon" with which to haul foodstuffs and cooking utensils for his drovers while on cattle drives. The whole vehicle, from the tarpaulin struts to the wagon hubs, was fashioned from 'bodock' wood because of its durability and resiliency to the inhospitable terrain the cattle drives took the herds over.
Bois d' arc wood is almost totally resistant to moisture, rot, insects, or wear and tear. The small saplings, when split in two, using wedges and a maul, make excellent fence posts and are there for the duration, often outlasting the steel barbed wire laboriously stapled onto the posts. Because the grain in the wood does not run in a straight line it is almost impossible to drive a staple or nail into it. One old Texas cowboy, who was plumb worn out from stapling a strand of barbed wire onto a line of posts, pretty well summed up his frustrations when he said, "Well, By Gawd, I'll tell you one damn thing! Them dang posts will be here until Jesus comes back!"
Even though its counterpart, the Lone Cypress in Mosquito Bend is still standing guard, the old guardian bois d' arc tree is not in residence on Indian Bluff anymore. It met its demise several years through a series of circumstances that would serve no useful purpose to chronicle here. But, according to reliable reports, its skeletal remains are interred in someone's yard in the nearby Nebo community, beside a swimming pool. It is still keeping watch, but over a much smaller body of water.
Chapter Two
Commercial Fishing In Catahoula Lake: Spoon-billed Catfish
Occupations involving labors in the outdoors permeate the region surrounding Catahoula Lake. The lake facilitates work that puts bread and meat on the table, especially before lumber and oil offered other opportunities. There is often a lot of expense and vigorous labor involved in the timely pursuit of waterfowl, deer, feral hogs, and upland game birds, especially when one's survival depends upon doing it right.
Commercial fishing is one particularly demanding outdoor occupation that calls many in and around Catahoula Lake. The number of commercial fisherman who once plied the lakes, streams, rivers and bayous are dwindling. Very few of the younger generation are stepping up to take their place. Market shoppers today would rather purchase pond-raised catfish fillets by the box rather than by the pound, and the demand for live bait fades as the numbers continue to decrease.
People can still load up their boats, drive thirty miles in any direction, and catch a wonderful mess of fish, whether they prefer using a cane pole or the highest priced rod and reel on the market. However, much of the "tampering" done to the area—locks, dams, weirs, etc., causing streams to run backwards, impeding the natural restocking process—has weakened Mother Nature's bounty in the region. Despite the man-made problems, there are still commercial fishermen who do well in the area.
Commercial fishing is considered very hazardous trade because of two ever present dangers these fishermen have to constantly be aware of: open water, where they could suddenly get caught up in a storm, or hanging the foot or propeller of their outboard motor in an unseen fence or obstruction, which could cause them to be violently thrown from their boat. Other natural and occupational dangers exist that often cause fishermen to become roustabouts when they "count the costs."
An inherent limitation on commercial fishing is the relatively brief window of prime months whereby fishing is plentiful. One can only ply the trade for about four months during the "high" water periods, which occur in late winter and early spring, dependent upon seasonal rains and snow melting up north. It sounds farfetched but one old fisherman once said, "Every drop of Mississippi River water that flows by, or doesn't flow by Cairo, Illinois will impact Catahoula Lake, in one way or another."
Catahoula Lake is blessed with many species of fish that attract both commercial and recreational fishermen. The spoon-billed catfish is one type of fish that once defined the area. Before being declared an endangered species, the spoon-billed catfish was one of the most sought after of all the game fish by commercial fishermen. The roe could be converted to caviar, and the flesh smoked for sale to the finer restaurants in large cities. For literally centuries, every spoonbill catfish in the Mississippi and adjoining rivers journeyed to Louisiana and up Old River to spawn between US 84 traffic bridge and the mouth of that river exiting Catahoula Lake. These fish would literally play leapfrog jumping over one another, and the sound was like thousands of waterfowl feeding. In addition to being able to catch as much as 1,500 lbs. per day in Old River during the spawn, fishermen could catch the spoonbill successfully year round in Little River.
During the 20th Century, just about any male person reared anywhere near Catahoula Lake has commercially fished at one time or another, mainly because it was a way to obtain cash money. As you drove down any access road leading to the lake it was not unusual to see hoop nets drying out in the yards of many residences where they had just been dipped in hot tar to waterproof the webbing. The commercial fisherman utilized different kinds of nets and webbing—including trammel, lead webbing and hoop nets.
When shad were running, three men in one day could catch as many as 270 boxes of the fish per day. Each box weighed 100 lbs., and the fishermen could clear $1,350 per day on a good run. Records obtained from Railway Express journals indicate that over 8 million pounds of fish were shipped from Jonesville from 1947 to 1953. Some fish markets on Black River at Jonesville stayed open 24/7 and shipped fish all over the United States.
Some of the last of the "professional" fishermen to eke out a living in the Catahoula Lake-Larto Waterways Complex were J.E. Hudnall, "L'il Horton Allen, Vernie Gibson, Hayward Hines and R.L. "Coon" Brown. These men knew the layout of every waterway like the back of their hands and could run almost any of the twisting, turning bayous and rivers on the darkest of nights. They exhibited all of the acumen of the Mississippi Riverboat pilots and were just as knowledgeable, if not more so.
Most commercial fishermen lived close to some major fishing body of water or stream because of the nature of the job. Chances are they were raised near that water in the first place and grew very familiar with the area. One exception was the aforementioned R.L. "Coon" Brown. Mr. Brown was evidently a native of either Arkansas or Missouri. At any rate, he moved to Jena, Louisiana, just to the east of the L &A overpass on US 84 in the mid-50's. He found a vacant lot, moved a house in, and built a building next to the driveway, which featured a fish market down stairs and an apartment upstairs. His hired help lived in the upstairs apartment. He roamed at will while fishing the Catahoula Lake region, including Little River to near Georgetown, the Ouachita up to near Harrisonburg. Occasionally, Brown's incursions included fishing the Boeuf and Tensas Rivers.
One of Mr. Brown's favorite pastimes was playing a domino game called "Moon", which is a game using a double-six set of dominos where players capture tricks with trump "rocks" and was played with intense dedication in the pool halls of Tullos and Jena. This game of chance would "get in your blood" as the patrons would pass much of the down time off the lakes, rivers and streams. Upon such occasions, Mr. Brown would dress out a big garfish or a huge snapping turtle and would make up a South Louisiana dish called "court-bullion" that was tasty, but hot as fire, with his own special peppers and seasonings grown in his own garden. He maintained that a turtle had five different kinds of meat contained therein and was perfect for use in sauce dishes.
Mr. Brown and his wife, Ms. Ida Bea, would cook up a batch, haul it to one of the pool halls in Jena or in Tullos, and then warm the "court- bullion" up on a fish-cooker. The delicious stew was ladled into bowls about half-filled with rice he had prepared in a small pressure cooker. Mr. Brown would then sell them for $1.25 a bowl; he would serve maybe 75 patrons on a good night.
R. L. Brown met with a very unfortunate end one day while traveling from one set of nets to another, which might sometimes be miles apart. He would often open and set the throttle on his outboard motor, while moving forward to the seat in front of the rear. By shifting his weight thusly, the transition would cause the boat to "plane out," running faster and smoother. He could steer the boat by leaning in one direction or the other and was probably traveling like this he apparently struck a submerged object, was thrown from the boat, and drowned.
The locals along the legendary shores of Catahoula Lake tell many stories of events that ended tragically or nearly so. Because the commercial fisherman usually toiled alone at his trade, much like the Mountain Man of old, the incident involving R. L. Brown vividly illustrates what can happen when a lone individual is exposed to the precarious dangers hidden on the steams and waterways around Catahoula Lake.
Chapter Three
Waterfowl Hunting On Catahoula Lake: An Unconventional Approach
Tales about waterfowl hunting on Catahoula Lake are a part of every family in this area. In fact, my grandfather used to be a market hunter out of the necessity to bring in much needed cash money to purchase items, mostly manufactured goods, that could not in any way be fabricated, constructed or fashioned or in any way produced in order to operate the average Catahoula Lake area household of the early to middle 1900's.
My forebears related tales of just how and why they hunted the waterfowl, and most times it wasn't with a shotgun using powder and shot because of the expense involved in the expenditure of powder and shot—but rather by using a unique method called a "shelaighly" (an Irish term for club or staff) to knock waterfowl down so they could be gathered up and/or literally harvested.
Naturally, when one says you knock down a large waterfowl by swinging a club when they're fully capable of speeds upwards of 30 mph, this sounds almost impossible to believe-given the fact that ducks or geese seldom fly low enough to be within reach of a cudgel. This method of winter-time market hunting was a very simple procedure: Just after noon my grandfather, and his hunting crony, Mr. Eli Plummer, would hitch up a team of horses to a standard farm wagon and head for the Indian Creek marsh area of Catahoula Lake, timing their arrival on the edge of the marsh about sundown. They would build up a small Indian fire, make coffee, and eat some biscuits and ham they'd brought along from home, waiting on the moon to rise.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Catahoula Lake Chronicles by Jack Willis Copyright © 2011 by Jack Willis. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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