Day 8

The damn dogs barked until nearly three o’clock. They started in again at 6:41 this morning. But even if they hadn’t kept me up most of the night, I would not have slept well. The ground was hard and very rocky—not even slightly comfortable.

I went hiking this morning. Actually, it was more like a nature walk.The ground was gravelly, and there was no incline at all. G3 did not want to walk. He said he wasn’t feeling well, that his stomach was bothering him. Instead of accompanying me, he set up a chair in the shade and told me that he was going to read. So as not to keep him sitting by himself for too long, I kept my walk rather shorter than I would’ve otherwise. A chorus of cicadas kept me company on the trail. I have always found them to be soothing—the louder the better—their constant chirping peaceful.

Along the trail, I came across Buffalo Springs. It was named after the buffalo that used to keep cool in the water produced by the spring. In the 1930s the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC)—one of FDR’s programs designed to help pull us out of the depression—came in to plant trees and to construct a circular stone structure that would channel the spring’s water. Today, it almost resembles a small kiddie pool, however, signs tell people to keep out. The CCC spent seven years working in the park. Along with reshaping Buffalo springs, they built pavilions, trails, waterfalls, roads, and swimming holes.

Chickasaw National Recreation Area used to be Platt National Park. in 1976, Platt National Park was combined with Arbukle Recreation Area and renamed Chickasaw. It is located on Chickasaw land.

Following my hike, we went to the Chickasaw Cultural Center. I was really excited to learn about Chickasaw culture and history. G3 was not. Once again he slipped into complaining mode. As soon as I parked he said, “I don’t want to be here.” This time, I did not give him the option of sitting it out. I thought it would be good for him to learn something as well. Apparently, that makes me a mean mom.

The Chickasaw are originally from the Southeastern United States—their original land was in Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, and Mississippi. Their trade routes spanned the entire continent, reaching up into the Great Lakes and out west to the Pacific. By the middle of the 14th century, they had an advanced society. While they were known as the Spartans of the lower Mississippi, due to their fierce fighting skills, they also produced baskets and pottery.

In the winter of 1540, the Chickasaw had their first European encounter when DeSoto brought his men into their territory on a quest for gold and silver. DeSoto was a cruel man who learned the ruthless rules of being a conquistador in Peru where he accompanied Pizarro on his conquest of the Incas. Over time he captured and enslaved many Indigenous people. When the Spanish first arrived with their iron weapons and strange attire, the Chickasaw perceived them as being otherworldly. Intrigued, they watched them closely offering them food, hides, and services. However, there offings weren’t enough. Nothing was ever enough for the Spaniards. One day DeSoto’s men looted Chickasaw food. When several Chickasaw men tried to steal it back two of the men were killed and the conquistadors cut off the third man’s hands.

When DeSoto approached the Chickasaw leadership, he made ridiculous demands in them. The Chickasaw refused to subjugate themselves, choosing instead to watch the Spaniards even more closely, studying everything about their camp and their security. DeSoto was no fool. He knew what was happening and was on alert, waiting for an ambush. Still, the Chickasaw were patient and managed to catch them by surprise. Three hundred warriors snuck into camp at night, set it on fire and killed many horses and men. Their tactic had always been to strike hard and fast and then retreat. DeSoto’s biggest liability was his arrogance. He was defeated because he didn’t think he could lose. He never made it back to Spain. He never even left North America. He died of fever in 1542. So that the Indigenous people would not know of his death, his men dropped his body into the Mississippi River. In the end, his people viewed him as a failed conquistador. It would be another 150 years before the Chickasaw encountered another group of Europeans.

We arrived at the Cultural Center in time to watch a Stomp Dance demonstration. I enjoyed it. G3 was less enthusiastic. Stomp Dances were performed around a fire in celebration. Songs were unique to the leader of each dance. And the words were a prayer offered to their creator. But when Europeans first saw the dance they thought the Chickasaw were worshiping fire. In the dance, men stomp. Women shuffle, taking smaller steps than the men. Women tie turtle shells filled with river stones to their legs so they make a rattling sound as they move. Toward the end of the demonstration, the MC asked for volunteers. I nudged G3 wanting to go up with him—volunteers had to be in pairs—but he looked at me like I was crazy. I told him Grandpa would have been the first one up on the stage and Nonna would have joined him. “But he would have looked stupid and made a fool of himself,” G3 looked incredulous. “Yep,” I smiled, “And he would have enjoyed every moment of it.”

Next we walked around the demonstration village. I learned that before battle, warriors painted their bodies red and black, the colors of conflict and death. Women sang war songs and wielded iron hatchets. They were known as singing hatchet women. How cool is that. After walking around we were hungry. We ate lunch in the cafe because I wanted to eat ethnic food. G3 had a buffalo burger. He said it tasted like beef, but it wasn’t as good as the burgers at McDonalds or Culver’s . I had Indian tacos—served on frybread instead of a tortilla. It came with grape dumplings —dough in a thick grape sauce. It was too sweet, but I’m glad I tried it. We also had a side order of banaha, a traditional corn based bread. It is cooked in corn leaves and has a consistency similar to Korean rice cakes, only they are a bit more mushy and less chewy. They do taste like corn. G3 took one bite and was done. He didn’t like it. I didn’t love it, but I suspect that might change if I ate it more frequently.

Chickasaw are a matrilineal society. They believe that spring water has healing powers. As a result, water runs through the entire cultural center. River animals were important, providing more than just food. Garfish teeth were used as tools for tattooing. Their tails made good arrow points. In the creation story, crayfish helped create the Earth. Their tails were used as spear points.

I very much would’ve liked to spend some time in the Chickasaw Museum. But G3 was complaining so much, I opted not to. I couldn’t leave him outside because it was a hundred degrees. And there was no way I was going to spend money on admission for him him so that he could complain further. I am disappointed, but at least I got to learn something and experience most of the Cultural Center.

When we got back to the campsite we went swimming. It’s crowded. Too crowded, especially since I am not a fan of most people. But G3 and I had fun in the water. We played catch with a tennis ball and shot each other with water guns. We had stopped at Walmart for supplies and found water guns for just a dollar each. It didn’t take much for G3 to talk me into buying them. It was a fun purchase and considering the excessive heat, I’m sure we’ll get lots of use out of them.

While at the “beach” two women showed up with two boys. G3 turned to me and said, “Look lesbians.” I chuckled and said they could just be friends. G3 rolled his eyes, “They’re dressed like you. Only lesbians wear men’s swimsuits.” I would have objected further, but it appeared that both boys belonged to both women.

When we had enough of the water—or rather the loud obnoxious people in the water—G3 strung his hammock by the lake and made himself comfortable to read. I pulled my chair up near him and wrote for a bit before reading. G3 gave me The Shining. I admit, it’s better than I expected it would be.

We lost the tennis ball. Actually, I think it was stolen. But we found a frisbee. After we finished eating dinner at the campsite, after the crowd had subsided, G3 and I played frisbee near the lake.

We went to a Ranger program on spiders this evening at the amphitheater in the campground. It was interesting, I just wish the kids in the audience had been better behaved. Too many kids were talking and waving flashlights in people’s eyes, and of course, parents made no effort to remove their kids or get them them to be quiet and listen. As a result, I did not get to hear as much as I would have liked and I sometimes only caught a partial explanation of something. So I’m sorry, what follows is not very thorough because my notes were lacking. One of the defining features of a spider is they have their heart and lungs in their abdomen. Horseshoe crabs are arachnids and they are related to sea scorpions. A scorpion’s tail is actually an extended abdomen. The bite of a scorpion is painful but usually not deadly. They are in this park along with black widow spiders. When black widows bite, they too cause a great deal of pain but the bite probably won’t cause death. There is, however, an anti-venom for bites—just in case you need it. Brown recluse spiders are another spider whose bites are incredibly painful. Their venom will cause pain and swelling and then all the cells around the bite will die. Most brown recluse bites take place in non flush restrooms. They like hot poopy places. Daddy long legs are not spiders—which G3 schooled us about several years ago. They have only one body segment, no silk, and they can consume food. Spiders need to liquify their food and slurp it up,