Today few folks would consider the State of Illinois as “The West,” but turn the calendar back nearly two hundred years and it was definitely the western frontier. I have bound copies of The Cultivator for the years of 1840 and 1841, and reading the articles, especially the letters to the editor, are fascinating today, a quarter of the way through the twenty-first century. The Cultivator was a monthly farm magazine published in Albany, New York.
One interesting letter in the May, 1840 issue was from a reader in Providence, Bureau County, Illinois. Providence is about forty miles north of Peoria and was founded in 1836 by seventy-odd folks from Providence, Rhode Island, who pooled their money and bought 17,000 acres of north-central Illinois prairie. The writer was apparently one of the first to settle on the land and titled his letter:
Useful Hints to Prairie Emigrants.
Having never seen any directions in the agricultural journals to guide the emigrant’s first efforts at prairie farming; and having seen and experienced the difficulties due to this lack; I offer a few hints which may be useful to those who intend to make their home on the western prairie.
Never plow the prairie for the first time until the grass has generally started, usually about the 25th of April. If possible, finish plowing by the 1st of July; in any event, plow none after the 15th of July, or the sod will not rot that season and will cut up in cross-plowing into square clods which are hard to pulverize and the land is then heavy, sour and unproductive for two or three years. If plowed too early, the grass will grow up through the furrows and prevent the rotting of the fine roots of which the furrows are mostly composed. From the 20th May to the 20th of June is the best time for breaking the prairie.
With a plow rightly constructed (in those days, most plows were homemade by the farmer himself, or else by a local blacksmith, so the quality varied widely), an experienced hand, with four yoke of cattle, will break two acres per day.
A furrow, turned two-inches thick, is better than if it were four or six inches–the thinner the furrow, the better it rots. In cross-plowing, a pair of horses will plow as deep as is necessary, without the inconvenience of clogging or choking with sod, as it will when the first plowing is too deep and a pair of horses will easily plow an acre a day.
To a family, a garden is of the first importance–because the sods are so tough, many do without one the first season. If a hazel patch can be found, clear off the brush and plow it up; the soil will be found to be as loose, warm and productive the first year, as ever after.
If the season is not too dry, a tolerable crop of corn, oats, and potatoes may be made on the sods, or rather they will make themselves, as little can be done in cultivating a sod crop, save plowing in the seed.
In selecting a farm, the rolling prairie is generally preferred by eastern emigrants. On such lands, the water is always good and generally durable, and a surplus quickly drains off.
The rolling prairies are generally the most healthy. Indeed on the ridge of land which rises abruptly from the bottoms of the Illinois River near Hennepin, and shoot off with gentle undulations nearly to the Mississippi, I have scarcely heard of a case of bilious fever, or ague and fever, during the three years I have lived here; and where cases have occurred, it was the unwise location of the dwelling. This is something that should not be disregarded. Care should be taken that the dwelling-house is not set near large sloughs or ponds, in ravines, or in the borders of heavy timber.
Very respectfully, A SUBSCRIBER.
The old breaking plows were large and heavy with a sturdy wooden beam of seven to twelve feet in length. The front of the beam was carried on a two-wheeled truck and a long lever back to the handles allowed for adjusting the depth of the plow’s cut.
The moldboard was sometimes made of wood reinforced by narrow strips of iron or steel, or perhaps entirely of curved iron rods. The share, or “shear” was wide, 20 to 30 inches, and was made of steel to carry a sharp edge, as the virgin prairie sod was a thick tangled web of small but tough roots and a razor-sharp edge was necessary for good work and to make it as easy as possible on the team.
That team consisted of a string of from three to six yokes of oxen hitched to the front of the plow beam. The plowman was armed with a long lash, as well as a rich supply of cuss words, all of which he used freely to keep the cattle moving.
So, dear reader, the next time you feel the urge to wax romantic about “the good old days,” give a thought to our ancestors and how hard they had to work to scratch out a living.
Sam Moore
