Natural Resources

Another resource that the early settlers enjoyed was an abundance of wild game. Many of them brought a cow or two, a few pigs, and some poultry. They were breeding stock, and were not available for food until their herds and flocks were established. This made the bounty of game especially important as it meant meat for their tables.

In 1852-3 the snow fell November 18, and remained on the ground until late spring. During that memorable winter elk, deer, and buffalo were found in abundance. A large number were killed that winter, but since then the numbers have dropped. 

In the latter part of the winter of 1854-55, a bear was found by C.J. McClure, and followed by him and J. G. Vansickle on horseback. They finally captured and killed the bear and her cubs, at the edge of Grundy county.

The large game and wild animals common in the area near Steamboat Rock, included buffalo, deer, elk, rabbits, squirrels, wolves, bobcat, and bears, partridge, prairie chickens, quail, turkey, swans, and cranes, and more.

When Isaac Lesh told of his first summer in the area he recalled that, “One day, while I was plowing in plain view just below Steamboat Rock, in sight of where we live now, there came tearing down the
steep bluff, an elk, as if pursued by wolves, and plunged into the river staying long enough to cool off. It came out into the bottom where I was plowing, and stood there till I made some noise, so tame was
it.”

“There were bear tracks within a few rods of the house, and wildcats and catamounts would gobble up rabbits close enough to our cabin so that we could hear the dull thrashing on the ground as they
caught them: then the squeak of the rabbit.”

In the winter of 1856-57 the weather was particularly cold and stormy. It was reported to be so bad that the quail and prairie chickens were frozen to death in large numbers. One day a stage driver from
Fort Dodge reported seeing a large herd of elk. The next morning a party of six, possibly more men, set out armed with rifle’s and “a jug of Hardin county whisky,” which froze the first hour out, started with
sleighs after them. It was said to have been thirty degrees below zero, but the men were so excited by the hunt that they didn’t seem to take notice. The party brought home fifteen elk, and several serious cases of frost bite.

Later that same winter a wild buffalo crossed the town plat of Iowa Falls, crossing the public square. A Doctor by the name of Foster chased and killed the buffalo.

Herbert Quick who was born here shortly after the town was platted, recalled the waterfowl in the area when he was a boy. “Out of the south came the birds of passage, our regular summer residents, and
waterfowl and wading birds by the million. There were several species of wild geese, over whom the great Canada honkers ruled as monarchs; many kinds of ducks, chief among which were the mallards, pintails, widgeons, redheads, canvasbacks and teal; two sorts of great cranes, the sand-hills and the white whooping cranes; and unregarded thousands of plover, snipe and other game birds.”

“Once in a while a flight of swans would create a sensation among us. These water fowl did not, in my boyhood, make swift, hurried and frightened flights from water to water as their descendants now do.
They alighted in armies on the open prairie. I have seen the golden plover, or prairie pigeon, running over the new-burned prairie in such numbers that the surface of the earth seemed to be moving, as with their black bellies and beautiful gold and silver spangles they sought their food. They would rise whirring clouds and fall in easy braces and trios to the muzzleloaders aimed toward them. The short-billed plover was, of course, with us all summer. His clear whistle was one of our commonest bird sounds. The great curlew, the long-billed plover, or sickle bill, lived with us too. I have not seen one for many years.”

“The flight of geese, ducks and cranes clouded the spring sky with wings. Looking toward the horizon as the sun was low, I have had my eyes dazzled by the light reflected from this cloud of bronzed plumage. Their clamor filled the air day and night. By day it was a medley of sound from the fields, on which they sat or walked about or frolicked; by night it fell from the heavens in a succession of mysterious calls
mingled with the whistling of wings. It filled the imaginative boy with a sense of mystery, a yearning for the vast solitude from which these winged voyagers came and to which they went.”

“Ducks, geese and cranes nested on the Iowa prairies. I have recently read a statement in a university publication that the geese never did this; but I know that the Canada geese did. On the William
Rainsbarger farm near Steamboat Rock.”

Herbert Quick was fond of the prairie chicken. He described them extensively in his autobiography. “They
were the most beautiful poultry imaginable. When we awoke in the morning to the sweet music of their mating calls, we knew it was time to clean the wheat for spring sowing. I read the other day a learned
publication in which the drumming of the prairie chicken was mentioned. They never drummed. The partridge of the forest drums, but the note like the alto horn in the orchestra, a sweet do, re, mi of the
chromatic scale which filled the still air of our mornings and evenings with harmony like nothing else I have ever heard.”

“The cock was a ventriloquist. One could be heard clearly for half a mile; but as the prairie boy, not thinking of the open or closed season–then never heard of–tried to stalk the flock sound would recede with his approach, until at last he would flush the covey which he thought was still afar off.”

“These prairie-hen concerts were strange orgies of strutting and dancing. The cock would perform all sorts of antics, and then, erecting the beautiful cupid’s wings on his neck, and swelling those odd skin
pouches which grew near them into great balls like oranges, he would, with spread wings, take a half dozen steps forward and with his neck outstretched emit his sonorous ‘Do, re, mi,’ to delight his companions and excite their emulation.”

“This was the alto note of their concert. There was also a soprano, a high oft-repeated call which seemed to have no beginning or end. These orgies took place on some knoll, preferably in a field seeded to sprouting wheat, and ended when the society seasons closed with the pairing off of the couples for the real business of life– the rearing of their broods. We saw no reason for not killing as many prairie chickens as we could, so in winter we trapped them by the thousands. The traps were made of lath, four feet by four by eight in size, with trapdoors made of shingles upon which the birds were lured by a trail
of scattered wheat. When one stepped on the thin end of the shingles, it dropped into the lath trap and the shingle rose to place again, ready for another victim.”

“I doubt whether this bird could have been protected from extinction in Iowa, any more than could the buffalo have been saved. The land all went into cultivated fields or pasture. In neither could the prairie hen find the nesting safety she required. The only salvation for the birds would have been great estates left in part unpastured and unsown, with strict legal protection and a system of game keepers; and this would not have been possible in Iowa.”

Today we do have “game keepers” to protect our wildlife from vanishing. The Iowa DNR has preserved and even brought back some species of wildlife that were not present around Steamboat Rock just 40
years ago.