| Most everyone knows about
Comanche and their horses. Comanches
were the most famous equestrians on the continent, and, according to earliest
European observers, the greatest horsemen in the world. Virtual acrobats,
they were. Comanches had first observed the military personnel of Spain, as
the armies ventured into the southwest plains. But,
once the Comanche
saw the horse, he took it over from there. Word has it that the Comanche
initially availed themselves of mesteños (mustangs), or the wild
strays of the original Spanish settlements. These were a breed of Arabian and
something else. These were smaller animals, but well able to endure the dry
plains–much more efficiently than the large Justin Morgans of the later US
military.
The German traveler
Heinrich Baldwin Mollhausen
wrote in 1853 that, the minute the Comanche
was on horseback, he was transformed into an independent, superior being. At
least that’s how it appeared. In 1879,
Homer Thrall wrote that the Comanche was the Thessalian Centaur, half
man, half horse. The Comanche and the horse became one entity, so deft, so
coordinated, so accurate they were in all their movements. Mollhausen said
that they performed “most incredible feats.” Comanche did things that no
other tribes did, in the hunt, in battle, and perhaps just for the glory of
it.
The horse changed the Comanche from an isolated, hardly known recluse
people of the Southern Rockies into the most powerful, famous people of the
Southern plains–all in a generation, or so it seemed to observers. The
Spanish recorded the first appearance of Comanche (with some Ute) in 1705,
but some Comanche already had taken their horses on the the plains to hunt
buffalo. Comanche early mastered the art of breeding, and that alone was
enough to distinguish them from all other tribes. There came a point when the
Comanche were known all over the plains as the source of the best mounts
available.
What is not so well known is that Comanche women were fanciful on
horseback as well. Retired army
Captain Randolph
Marcy wrote a Mrs. Alice Crane (October 26, 1896) about his memory of
Comanche women on horseback. They were every bit as skillful as men, he says.
(That’s saying an awfully lot!) And they did more than just ride. They could
perform, too. He recalled being very impressed with two young Comanche women
who went out and lassoed wild antelope “with unerring precision.”
This they did, from horseback, riding astride, not side saddle, as was the
English, “lady’s” style. (And by the mid 19th century, Apache women had
become accustomed to riding as well.
Captain Joseph Sladen thought Apache women on horseback, with their long
hair dangling down their backs, were gorgeous. “I have seldom seen a prettier
picture than that of one of these young women sitting astride a horse and
riding like the wind.” Of course, in 1872, Sladen had spent several weeks
living with the Apache, whom he found lovable and Anglos “stoical” in
comparison.)
In July, 1863, Lieutenant C. A. Woodward wrote of his encounter with a
Comanche chief’s daughter. He wrote that she was “one of the most comely
Indian maidens of the wild tribes I have met, beautifully dress in bright
colors, and sat astride on her horse “as only the queens of the forest can
do.” (See, Benjamin Grierson Papers, Newberry Library, Chicago.)
Comanche were completely unapproachable and undefeatable on horseback, or
so it seemed. This is why, in the end, when one
Colonel Ranald S.
MacKenzie went out on the Staked Plains (Illano Estacado) of the
Texas panhandle, and found the last of the free Quahada hiding out in the
Palo Duro Canyon, he opted to avoid a battle, and instead, ended up
slaughtering some 1,500 Comanche horses. It happened like this. The Comanche
(led by Quanah Parker, no less) knew MacKenzie’s cavalry was coming. The
Comanche escaped pronto, single file, on foot, up the straight and narrow
paths of the canyon. However, in their haste, they had to leave all their
horses. When MacKenzie came down into the canyon, he found only the horses.
He herded them out, and, a few miles south of the canyon, slaughtered them
all, knowing the Comanche would be helpless, hopeless and humiliated without
their mounts.
And thus, within months, Quanah and the last of the “Antelope” Comanche
turned themselves in at Fort Still, in April, 1875. There was no more buffalo
or antelope to hunt, and no horses to hunt on. That was the end of the
Comanche, or, their unprecedented hunting empire. Like Mongolians, they came
as the wind and left as the wind. Also, like Mongolians, Comanches today
still maintain a certain separateness, a kind of self-contentment unknown to
most people. The world’s approbation is not something of interest to the
people.
Posted by
David Yeagley ·
David Yeagley is the great-great-grandson of Comanche leader Bad Eagle. |