The word Crow comes from the people’s description of themselves — Apsaalooke or Absaroka — meaning Children of the Large-beaked Bird, which was widely interpreted as The Crow.
Their world was created by the tricksters, Old Man Coyote. He gave the first people their language, prayers, ceremonies, laws, and clan system.
The Crow are a matrilineal society with thirteen named clans.
They are the only village with a Tobacco Society among the clans.
Their original homeland was in Canada, but they were pushed into Montana and Wyoming by rival bands.
At first they lived in static earthen lodges.
Their traditional farming lifestyle changed radically when they acquired horses in the early Eighteenth Century. Thereafter, they became nomadic buffalo hunters who adopted the four-pole tipi.
Crow tipis were typically unpainted and were transported on horse-drawn travois.
They hunted buffalo, elk, and deer.
Crow women decorate their dresses with distinctive elk-tooth designs on the front and back.
They were prohibited from interacting with others during menstruation.
They rarely practiced basketry, pottery, or weaving.
Warriors secure a life-long spirit guide through a vision quest, where they are given their individual medicine bundle for protection.
Crow members have access to the spirit world through their guardian spirits or medicine fathers.
They traditionally relied on herbalists for medicinal cures, and on their medicine bundles for spiritual advice and healing.
The Crow practice Sun Dances and Peyote Meetings as part of their religious system.
A leader was expected to perform a series of coups – touching an enemy in combat, stealing a horse, taking an enemy’s weapon, and leading a war raid.
Inter-tribal conflicts and rivalries sometimes resulted in armed fighting.
In the old days, the Crow were a polygamous people with a casual system of marriage and divorce.
The berdache tradition (cross-gender identification) was common, but often non-sexual. They were thought of as the two-spirit people.
The Crow were enemies with the Blackfeet, Cheyenne, and Sioux.
They use buffalo or sheep horns to fashion a sinew-back bow used for hunting and warfare.
The Shoshone and Hidatsa were allies, and the Crow generally got on well with the whites.
After the Fort Laramie Treaties of 1851 and 1868 they were confined to a substantial-sized reservation.
In modern times, the Crow have been heavily influenced by Catholicism.
And now my friends you’ve asked me, what makes me sad and still,
And why my brow is darkened like the clouds upon the hill?
Run in your ponies closer, and I’ll tell to you my tale,
Of Utah Carol, my partner, and his last ride on the trail.
We rode the range together, and rode it side by side,
I loved him like a brother, and I wept when Utah died.
We were rounding up one morning, when work was almost done,
When on his side the cattle started on a frightened run.
Underneath the saddle that the boss’s daughter rode,
Utah that very morning had placed a bright red robe.
So the saddle might ride easy for Lenore, his little friend.
But it was this red blanket that brought him to his end.
The blanket was now dragging behind her on the ground,
The frightened cattle saw it, and charged it with a bound.
Lenore then saw her danger, and turned her pony’s face,
And leaning in the saddle tied the blanket to its place.
But in leaning lost her balance, fell in front of that wild tide.
“Lay still Lenore, I’m coming!” were the words that Utah cried.
His faithful pony saw her, and reached her in a bound,
I thought he’d been successful and had raised her from the ground.
But the weight upon the saddle had not been felt before,
His back-cinch snapped like thunder, and he fell by Lenore.
Picking up the blanket he swung it over his head,
And started cross the prairie, “Lay still, Lenore!” he said.
When he got the stampede turned and saved Lenore, his friend
He turned to face the cattle and meet his fatal end.
His six gun flashed like lightning, the report rang loud and clear,
As the cattle rushed and killed him, he dropped the leading steer.
On his funeral morning I heard the preacher say,
“I hope we’ll all meet Utah at the roundup far away.”
Then they wrapped him in the blanket that saved his little friend,
And it was this red blanket that brought him to his end.
Geronimo was an Apache war leader and medicine man.
Although he was highly feared and respected, he was too unpopular to ever be made a chief.
He fought the Mexican and U.S. Armies over Apache land.
His hatred for Mexicans came after they murdered his mother, young wife, and three children.
Although he later had eight other wives, Geronimo’s legendary aggression was fuelled by this horrific crime.
He became one of the most brutal warriors on record and committed several infamous atrocities.
White settlers called him “the worst Indian who ever lived.” In one raid he “pillaged ranches, swept up livestock, and killed randomly, torturing men in every conceivable way, roasting women alive, and tossing children into nests of needle-crowned cacti” (Cozzens, 385).
Geronimo’s followers believed he had supernatural powers, including prophecy and magical protection. Rifles jammed when trying to shoot him, and anyone riding with him was also protected from bullets. It was said he could make rain, and stop the sun from rising.
During the Apache wars he “surrendered” three times and was sent to a reservation in Arizona. Each time he escaped.
After his third breakout in 1885 he was exiled to Florida.
In later life the war leader became a celebrity, appearing in President Theodore Roosevelt’s inaugural parade, and signing autographs at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis.
He died in the Fort Sill hospital of pneumonia following a riding accident.
Chatto (an Apache leader) said, “I have known Geronimo all my life up to his death and have never known anything good about him.”
Lieutenant Britton Davis (U.S Army) called him a “thoroughly vicious, intractable, and treacherous man,” whose only redeeming qualities were “courage and determination” (Cozzens, 380).
Sources:
Cozzens, Peter. The Earth Is Weeping: The Epic Story of the Indian Wars for the American West (New York: Knopf, 2016)
The rodeo tradition developed as a means of testing a cowboy’s speed, skill, strength, and courage.
Rodeo comes from the Spanish word for round up, and the first recorded English mention appeared in 1834.
Spanish Americans held annual rodeos for their vaqueros to gather cattle for movement, branding, breeding, selling, or slaughter.
After the American Civil War the rodeo became a spectator sport, with a paying audience and professional prizes.
Between 1890-1910, they combined with various Wild West Shows and drew a huge popular interest.
“Prairie Rose” Henderson was the first woman to compete in the Cheyenne Rodeo of 1901.
Women riders began making frequent appearances until two of them died in the ring – Bonnie McCarrol (1929), and Marie Gibson (1933).
After these tragic accidents the male ring was considered too dangerous for female competitors, so they began organizing their own rodeos.
Today, however, women are part of the national circuit. They still compete in their own female events, but are also involved in several mixed-sex competitions. Yee haw!
Everyone considered him
The coward of the county,
He’d never stood one single time
To prove the county wrong.
His mama called him, “Tommy”
But folks just called him, “Yellow.”
Something always told me
They were reading Tommy wrong.
He was only ten years old
When his daddy died in prison,
I took care of Tommy
Because he was my brother’s son.
I still recall the final words
My brother said to Tommy
“Son, my life is over,
But yours has just begun.
Promise me, son,
Not to do the things I’ve done.
Walk away from trouble if you can.
Now it don’t mean you’re weak
If you turn the other cheek.
And I hope you’re old enough to understand-
Son, you don’t have to fight to be a man!”
There’s someone for everyone
And Tommy’s love was Becky,
In her arms he didn’t have to prove he was a man.
One day, while he was working,
The Gatlin boys came calling.
They took turns at Becky
And there was three of them.
Tommy opened up the door
And saw his Becky crying,
The torn dress, the shattered look,
Was more than he could stand.
He reached above the fireplace
Took down his daddy’s picture,
As his tears fell on his daddy’s face
I heard these words again.
“Promise me, son,
Not to do the things I’ve done,
Walk away from trouble if you can.
Now it don’t mean you’re weak
If you turn the other cheek.
And I hope you’re old enough to understand
Son, you don’t have to fight to be a man!”
The Gatlin boys just laughed at him
When he walked into the bar room,
One of them got up
And met him half way across the floor.
Tommy turned around, they said,
“Hey, look, old yellow’s leaving.”
You could’ve heard a pin drop
When Tommy stopped and locked the door.
Twenty years of crawling
Was bottled up inside him.
He wasn’t holding nothing back
He let them have it all.
Tommy left the bar room
Not a Gatlin boy was standing,
He said, “This one’s for Becky,”
As he watched the last one fall.
And I heard him say,”I promised you, Dad,
Not to do the things you’ve done.
I walk away from trouble when I can.
Now please don’t think I’m weak
I didn’t turn the other cheek,
Papa, I should hope you understand –
Sometimes you’ve gotta fight when you’re a man!”Everyone considered him
The coward of the county . . .
