Jingo Bill Painter and his son Joe, mounted on Chaska and Upset, driving the Fosberry bull toward the Little Missouri with pitchforks braced against their saddles. Harding County, South Dakota, circa 1912. Illustration.
Transcribed as written – in Bob’s voice , with only minor punctuation cleanup.
Provided by Melinda Painter.
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I wrote this story up once before, because Charley Hunt of Tri State Livestock News asked for bull stories. Unfortunately, I cannot find my copy, so will try again.
In the time shortly before WWI, a Durham (Shorthorn) Bull was terrorizing the neighborhood along the Little Missouri River in Harding County, South Dakota. This “Bull” belonged to a man by the name of Fosberry who lived a few miles south of Camp Crook. His terrorist activities brought him to my grandparents’ place about twenty miles on further north along the river where their place was. The country at that time was mostly open range and the only reliable water for livestock was probably in the river. So, the bull followed the river north harassing everyone as he went.
This Bull was big, mean, and horned. He went where he wanted to go, and did as he pleased. He was so mean no one could do anything with him but stay out of his way. I wonder why someone didn’t just shoot him and get it over with. The bull came to my Grandparents’ place along in the fall shortly before shipping time. He hung out with the milk cows, so people were always scared by him when they milked the cows.
My Grandfather (the cowboys had nicknamed him Jingo Bill in the days of open range) had been given two horses by the Carey brothers of CY Cattle Ranch when he quit to get started ranching on his own. Their names were Chaska and Upset. He had the choice of any horses Careys owned but one. He took two horses from his own string of horses he had ridden while working on the CY. My Uncle Joe, Jingo Bill’s oldest son, was by this time old enough to help his dad with ranch chores.
Grandpa and Uncle Joe rode Chaska and Upset, each carrying a pitchfork. One got on each side of the bull and put the tines of their forks in the bull’s ribs right behind his shoulders. The fork handles were against the front of their saddles, with the horses pushing against the forks. They got the bull on the run and chased him northwest toward a high riverbank. They stopped far enough back from the river to be safe. The bull was so scared; he kept running as fast as he could go toward the river. When he got to the bank, he jumped as far as he could, and landed in the water. He sank into the sand far enough so it was a struggle for him to get out of the river.
They had a beef herd ready to trail to the railroad held nearby. The bull got in the middle of the herd and stayed there all the way to the railroad, without causing any more problems. At that time, they were shipping on the Milwaukee Railroad, which was much closer than the Northwestern in Belle Fourche.
By way of interest, I would like to say what they did worked because of the nature of a bull that has been whipped by another bull. There is nothing more dangerous than a whipped bull running from the bull that whipped him. A whipped bull in this situation will run through or over anything in his way. I know my Grandfather knew this, so he did what he did to get the bull’s attention!!!!!!!!
I want to add that I heard my Uncle Joe Painter tell this story many times. It has always been one of my favorite stories about the history of my Grandparents.
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Transcribed as written, with only minor punctuation cleanup. Provided by Melinda Painter.