The daily chieftain. [volume] (Vinita, Ind. Ter. [Okla.]) 1898-1902, 1900-02-28
BARRED WIRE IN rHE WEST.
what the IntroductIon Of Wire
Fences Has Meant TO Man
and Beast.

A few years a Yillager down in Illi'
nois bent a bit Of iron about strand
of fence wire. and noticed that his cat
tie avoided it. Out OF this idea grew q
system Of fencing which has preserved
our pine forests a few decades longer,
but which brought to an end many dec
ades earlier the glorious free days OF
the open and unfenced west. The great
cattle ranges, over which roamed one
of the most independent populations
ever seen on earth, could never have
been fenced by rails, or stone walls, or
boards Of pine. 1t was difficult enough
for the spider-like genius Of advancing
civilization to keep them fenced with
the .eyer-renewing web Of the fatal wire
against which the wild men of the early
days rebelled so strenuously. Yet mile
by mile, thousands of miles after thou
sands Of miles, the cheap and easily
spun web crawled out across the west
and held it hard and firm. You can
never uncoil the deadly web, neither
can you replace the victim which it
strangled.
Little more than dozen years ago
the writer was with party hunting
for buffalo calves in the upper part of
the Panhandle of Texas, where we
knew of little herd still remaining OF
those great animals, even then consid-
cred virtually extinct. 1t was weary
and desolate land, where between wa
teE-hole and water-hole lay 60 or 70
miles of absolute desert. Not a tree
broke the endless monotony of the
plains. The soil was like flint. The sky
had for months been guiltless of drop
of rain. 1t was a region SO utterly un-
suited for the habitation of mankind
that these last few representatives of
passing race of great American animals
had chosen 1t as their final place OF ref
uge, thinking that perhaps they would
never again hear the sound Of rife shot
or see again the face of man. Yet one
morning as we faced the sun of another
waterless day we came upon line of
strong wire fence, coming from where
no man could tell, and running in one
unbroken line to the uttermost limits Of
our vision. 1t was no delusion, no mir
acle, no wonder Of the wild mirage. 1t
was an accursed fact. It had no right
there, on that free land, where even the
wind had swept for ages unfettered by
SO much as leaf or stem of struggling
tree. As we marveled and muttered at
this thing we saw, in the red light Of the
east, a little moving band of great
forms which we knew to be those Of
the buffalo. They saw us also, and with
the instinct of generation of persecu-
ton swept away at once in flight.
Across their line lay this fourfold abom-
nation, this corded barrier, this new
thing, this infamy never before
dreamed of on these free plains. Close
punched, the buffalo struck it with the
force of heavy locomotive and crushed
through and over it as though they
passed so many straws. All, there was
a thing dramatic, admirable, out there
on that faraway desert! 1t was the old
west rending the net of the retiarius,
dSlQC Liz olidliQS SCI 1O' 10 uAl
doing and standing on unhindered,
freel Seeing the beauty of this specta-
Gle, our best roper, cowpuncher born
on the old range, rose in his stirrups
and took off his hat to cheer the buff
falo as they numbered on. For 20 panels
the fence lay fiat, and we rode across
it. Along its inner side was a path
worn inches deep by the feet of count
less antelopes, cut off by this fence from
their ancient way to some unknown wa
ter-hole. No man of our party felt glad
at this evidence of approaching ciyiliza-
tion, this fence thrusting out into the
wild land. Every man was partisan for
the buffalo and the antelope, and ex-
ulted at this prostration of their enemy,
though knowing with sorrow how brief
must be their little victory.-E. Hough,
in Century.