How To Raid Horses Like a Blackfoot
Steal horses like a pro!
Imagine for a moment that you are a seventeen year old Blackfoot brave. You are lean and rangy and full of piss and vinegar. Hormones have flooded your body, and on any given day you only want to do four things: ride your horse as fast as possible, hunt, fight, and romance the ladies.
You have a crush on a beautiful black-haired girl that lives three lodges down, the one with the hour glass shape and the aquiline nose. You think often of marrying her.
The problem is you have no marriage gifts to offer her father. Nor have you proven that you would be a good provider. Your own dad was killed three years ago in a scalp raid on the Crows. You, your mother, and your two sisters have more or less lived off your uncle’s charity for the last few years and soon you will be expected to start making a place for yourself.
While you do have your own horse, a gift from your father when you were eight years old. He’s getting old now, and he’s not particularly fast, and he was never nearly smart or brave enough to be a Buffalo Runner. All this means that even if you want to go on a Buffalo hunt this summer, you’ll have to beg someone to loan you a horse in exchange for a portion of your kills. Your mother already gave all of your father’s horses to your uncle as thanks for his generosity.
But then you hear that Kills Many Bulls is organizing a horse raid on the Cree. It’s just whispered about. You have gone on two horse raids before as an apprentice, though you were not really allowed to participate in the actual stealing. But both were successful, and you’ve grown in skill.
So you go visit Kills Many Bull’s and you make your case to him, you talk about your raids with Talks To Beaver and Red Wolf, where you carried their extra provisions, and mended their moccasins in exchange for their mentorship. You tell him about the coup, your first coup, that you counted on one of the Root Diggers you stumbled upon in the foothills last winter.
And to your relief, he says he’s had his eye on you and your ever growing skill on a horse and with a bow. He says yes…
So now what?
While writing Medicine Woman, I did quite a bit of research on the Blackfoot Tribe. And in the course of said research, I discovered The Blackfeet: Raiders on the Northwestern Plains by John C. Ewers which I leaned quite heavily on. In it, Ewer’s gives a thorough look at the Blackfoot way of life and war. Especially interesting was his description of Horse Raids, the mechanics of them, and the motivation behind them.
Before I expand on the specifics of Blackfoot horse thieving, some background: the Blackfoot Confederacy, broadly consisted of three bands of Siksiká speaking people—The Kania or Bloods, and the Northern and Southern bands of Piikani. Siksiká being an Algonquian language family.
On the image above, you can see that the Blackfoot inhabited the Northwest plains of the United States and Canada near present day Montana. They were a warrior people, and in the mid-1800s, quite feared by the surrounding tribes like the Crow and the Snakes. The white frontiersmen found them to be equally fierce.
Indian warfare on the plains was rarely genocidal, the Comanche and Apache war being something of an exception, and generally not focused on the capture of territory or the systemic elimination of enemy populations. Instead, the American Indian typically practiced a form of limited warfare, which morphed into horse raids after the introduction of the horse rapidly evolved the Indian way of life.
In the late 1700s, the burgeoning white population on the East coast set off something of a chain reaction in the plains. Tribes were pushed west and as they did so, they sought to displace other tribes already living there.
Simultaneously, tribes were also adapting to the horse, already introduced to the plains from the Spanish in Mexico.
What we end up with then is the introduction of a new military technology at the same time massive existential migrations are occurring. This is some of the context behind the Comanche and Apache war mentioned above. Similarly, the Blackfoot to the North displaced the Shoshone.
But once this reorganization of territories was complete, it appears everyone settled back down into a more limited version of warfare. This likely would have occurred regardless, but disease, or rather the interpretation that it was a curse for hyper-violence, may have also played a role in the natural limiting of warfare as explained in Counting Coup and Cutting Horses.
Evidence suggests that this disastrous epidemic caused the tribes to decrease their warring for a time. Even the belligerent Comanches briefly sought peace with the Spanish. In the northern plains, Saukmappe maintained that war changed after the Blackfeet caught smallpox from a raid on an infected Shoshoni village. He explained the strange disease as the anger of the bad spirit toward his children for overindulgence in war. “We were fond of War, even our Women flattered us to war and nothing was thought of but Scalps for singing and dancing,” he told Thompson. “Now think of what has happened to us all, by destroying each other and doing the work of the Bad Spirit; the Great Spirit became angry with our making the ground red with blood; he call the Bad Spirit to punish and destroy us, but in doing so not to let one spot of the ground be red with blood, and the Bad Spirit did it as we all know.”
Saukmappe defended the opinion, held by at least part of his adopted tribe, that it would be preferable to have less full-scale war that destroyed entire villages and instead concentrate on small expeditions for “cutting out,” or stealing, horses. In fact, Saukmappe said, horse stealing took greater bravery than destroying a small enemy camp because “it required great courage and conduct, to be for several days in the face of a large camp undiscovered; and each of you to bring away a horse from the enemy instead of leaving your own scalps.”
- Anthony R. McGinnis, Counting Coup and Cutting Horses
The horse made war much more dangerous and devastating for everyone involved. Raiders could penetrate deeper into enemy territory, strike faster, retreat faster, and overwhelm any braves that did not have a horse. On the flip side, having a horse quickly became a matter of life and death, and subsequently, having many horses became a status symbol and extreme source of wealth.
With all this in mind, it’s easy to see how the horse raid would become something of a proxy for actual war. While still violent and potentially deadly, the stakes were considerably lower than whole villages going head to head and wiping each other out in mounted charges. A horse raid was a lower stakes game that still rewarded braves with horses, now the dominant form of wealth. Additionally, a horse raid provided war honors, and while still dangerous for the individuals involved, it was not existential at the tribal level.
These raiding parties were typically raised on the fly by some experienced member of the tribe looking to better his position. Every so often, you’ll run across the idea that Indian tribes were big matriarchal socialist utopias and that nobody had to worry about anything, and everybody shared according to their ability and took according to their needs. But, that is hardly true. Just like literally every other group of humans to have ever lived, status and wealth mattered. Wealth and status on the plains may not have looked like dollar bills or a house on the corner, but it still very much existed. Instead, it looked like a healthy herd of horses, lots of buffalo meat, and piles of hides. Scalps and war honors were the same thing as country club membership. Like in our opening example, if you did not have access to good and fast horses, you may be able to survive off familial generosity, but you would never win the girl next door or have the respect of your peers.
Therefore, when a raiding party was raised it was often by an ambitious brave seeking to enlarge his herd and expand his influence in the tribe. Additionally, with increased wealth and status, came increased access to women. In the quote below, you can see the full spectrum of male motivations.
Many of the most active Blackfoot horse raiders were members of poor families who were ambitious to better their lot. They were inclined to take the most desperate chances. Some acquired horses, settled down, and became respected members of the middle class. A few became wealthy. Many lost their lives in actions with the enemy. Most sons of middle-class families needed more horses than their fathers could give them if they were to marry and set up their own households. A few cowardly fellows and some sons of rich young men never went on horse raids. But there were also rich young men who loved the excitement of these raids and coveted the prestige that could be gained through success in war.
- John C. Ewers, The Blackfeet: Raiders on the Northwestern Plains
Often these raiding parties were a chance for the youngest braves, boys in their middle teens, to learn the art of war and prove themselves. Generally, they would play apprentice to the older warriors, carrying extra supplies and doing most of the camp chores in exchange for just being allowed to tag-along and learn. Often, they would not participate in the actual raid, unless it was pulling guard or minding the horses, and thus would not receive any horses for their efforts. And like in our example above, a couple of these apprenticeships under one’s belt and the young braves would be allowed to participate as raiders themselves.
Generally, spring and summer were the favored time for raids. Winter raids were occasionally carried out against other plains tribes east of the Rockies, but never against tribes west of the Rockies. It was believed that enemy tribes were a bit less vigilant in winter. Additionally, a well timed raid could make the harsh weather an ally as a raiding party fled enemy territory. Snow covers tracks quite well.
The leader of the raiding party was typically a war chief or head man, or as the white trappers would call them, a “Partisan.” These were more mature and experience raiders, and often the oldest man in the party. It was also not unusual for this man to be approached by a group of young men and ask him to lead them.
Most of the horse raiding parties were relatively small, numbering a dozen men or less. While large parties did happen, they were also rare. Just as rare, were parties of two or three men.
Interestingly, this size mimics another unit known for stealth and direct action—United States Special Forces. A typical Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) team or A-Team is often made up of a dozen men. And this size seems to make equal sense whether in the context of a horse raid or rolling up a High-Value Individual (HVI). In either case the group of raiders needs to be small enough to move through the country undetected, yet large enough to put up a fight and survive a retreat after they finish the hit.
A horse raid, much like a special operations hit, would be marked by stealth first, followed by direct action, and then a running fight.
The raid itself was often carried out with the blessing of the Band Chief or sometimes the Medicine Man. The War Chief or Partisan would be responsible for obtaining this permission and informing the Band Chief of the horse raider’s objective and destination.
Most interesting, is that the raid typically started out on foot, because men on foot can conceal themselves much easier. Therefore, the penetration into enemy territory, right up until horses were stolen from the enemy camp, was all done on foot. A dangerous game indeed.
Each man carried a light pack containing several pairs of moccasins, one or more rawhide ropes for catching, riding, or leading horses, an awl and sinew for repairing moccasins, a small pipe with a short willow stem and some tobacco for an occasional smoke en route, and the raider’s personal war medicine. These things were wrapped in a blanket roll carried on the back by a rawhide strap over the chest. Each man also carried his food for the early stages of the journey—some dried meat or pemmican in a rawhide case suspended by a shoulder strap or tied on top of his pack. Each also carried a sharp, heavy-bladed knife in a rawhide sheath at his belt. It served both as a tool and as a weapon. With it he cut firewood and timbers for temporary shelters, butchered animals killed for food, and, if the need arose, silently killed an enemy and lifted his scalp. Each also carried another weapon—either a short bow and quiver of arrows or a muzzle-loading flintlock with shot pouch and powder horn.
- John C. Ewers, The Blackfeet: Raiders on the Northwestern Plains
According to Ewers, this equipment likely weighed a little less than twenty pounds including a rifle. Personally, I find this weight to be a bit far fetched, as the average flintlock would weigh ten pounds by itself, and I can only imagine what a hide or wool blanket would weigh.
Regardless, this was the general makeup of each man’s pack and possibles. As the journey into enemy territory might take the party 600 miles or more, they hunted for game along the way. According to Ewers, the average raiding party could cover around 25 miles a day on foot when moving at a steady pace. Meaning incursions into enemy territory to steal horses would be long and tiresome affairs.
The raiders would typically stop just short of enemy territory and build a war lodge in a thickly wooded place or some other generally well-hidden spot. Here, they would rest up and prepare for the second part of the raid. They would also kill as much game as possible, cure it, and lay up food for the return journey home.
The war lodge acted as a base of operations where the War Chief could wait and send out scouts in ones and two’s to locate the enemy camps and secure vital intelligence for a successful raid. Things such as where the enemy picketed their best horses, where they moved the less valuable horses for night pasture, and vulnerable areas in the camp’s security.
When the scouts located the enemy camp, they watched it from a concealed position long enough to determine its size, the number of men, and the quality of horses. They then returned to the war lodge as rapidly as they could. As they came in sight of their waiting comrades, they approached in a zigzag course, signifying that they had found the enemy. While the leader went to meet them, the others set up a pile of sticks near the lodge. Returning with the scouts the leader kicked over this pile of sticks, and all the men scrambled for them. Each stick a fellow retrieved was considered a prophecy of a horse he would take from the enemy.
- John C. Ewers, The Blackfeet: Raiders on the Northwestern Plains
With the prize located and valuable intelligence gathered, the raiding party would pray for success, sing war songs, apply war paint, and don their war medicine. War Medicine itself deserves an essay that I am sure I will write one day, but I’ll try to be brief.
You can think of “medicine” as “magic.” These were magical totems, often feathers, but sometimes shirts, necklaces, weapons, or even whole lodges which were believed to be imbued with magical properties by dream or the shaman. For example, a buffalo shirt that ensured no arrow could hit its wearer or a necklace that influenced the weather.
Typically, this medicine or magic came with ritualized prescription for maintaining the magical item, for example, never letting it touch the ground, hanging it in certain places and at certain times, and specific and sacred dances associated with activating and maintaining that specific item’s magic.
Medicine could be transferred from one owner to another, or even traded for, and it often was. Additionally, the item’s sacred dances and specialized rituals would be passed along with it. Fathers and uncles could pass medicine down to sons and nephews. Head men could trade medicine off in exchange for horses or other gifts. The gifting and trading of medicine was a source of pride among warriors, and it was seen as a great boon to grow old and have held and used many different medicines.
Additionally, Medicine and the creation of magical items often originated in the dream world. Instructions on how to make and decorate the item would be transmitted in dream via an animal helper or some other member of the supernatural world, as well as instructions on the ritualized maintenance of the item. Upon waking, the dreamer would then go about creating the item.
This is where the western fiction trope of killing the leader of a war party to stop the attack originated. No doubt actually occurring and then being ported into fiction. I’m not sure the average western audience grasps the mechanisms of said trope. It’s not that Indians were cowards or put so much stock in their leader, but that they believed in magic and more importantly their leader’s magic. A key part of leading a war party, in addition to experience, was the perceived strength of the leader’s medicine. So when our trusty Cowboy draws a bead on Chief Pakawa who is wearing his magical bullet proof shirt, and the cowboy then blows him out of the saddle with a cool squeeze of his trigger, the rest of the party would indeed be terrified. That Cowboy just broke the Chief’s medicine. How much stronger is the Cowboy’s medicine then?
Back to the raid, you and your friends have successfully navigated into enemy territory on foot, built a base of operations, and located the enemy horses. Zero hour approaches. You now head for the enemy camp.
You move at night and conceal yourself during the day. You may have applied cottonwood sap to yourself earlier, or rubbed sage over your clothes to mask your scent and make the horses easier to lead off. The smell tickles your nose. Just before dawn, you and your fellow raiders make your move.
You distract the enemy camp’s dogs with little scraps of meat taken from the pouch at your waist, your only food if you get separated, and you pray none of them start barking, and if they do, that they don’t wake anyone.
You then cut away the finer horses picketed in front of their owner’s lodges while some members lead away some of the pastured herd. Depending how greedy the party is, and how successful the first attempt at horses goes, the party may leave the stolen horses with the apprentices they brought along and go back for seconds.
It is not a question of if the theft will be discovered, but when, for even if you and your fellow raiders get away cleanly, the missing horses will be discovered as soon as the camp wakes up. Therefore, the getaway is a matter of speed and stamina, with the first two or three days being the most important and the most dangerous.
Horses in hand, you must now cover hundreds of miles with only a few hours lead on your pursuers. Pursuers that will kill and mutilate your body if they catch you. Your scalp will be someone else’s trophy. Your nose and ears cut off and made into trophies. Your body left for vultures.
The first day out, there is no stopping except for the most minor breaks and maybe a quick smoke. The tobacco steadies your nerves and fine tunes your senses.
You do not stop to sleep for the night, and instead continue riding. You eat dried meat and pemmican in the saddle, and only pause long enough to swap to a fresh mount. You ride like this for three days and two nights. The second night is the worst, but by the third day you are in good spirits, somewhat loopy, but on your third wind and quite sure that you are invincible. Your animal helper visits you, loping alongside your horse. It is wolf. He encourages you to keep riding and tells you that the raven-haired beauty back at camp waits up for your return.
Obviously, driving such a herd of horses under duress is a very troublesome experience, so you and your fellow raiders are prepared to leave any horses that are too troublesome or slow you down.
Kills Many Bulls eventually feels that you are sufficiently safe now that you are two or three days out from the enemy camp. Regardless, you have slept no more than three hours in that time, and must stop soon any ways. You all stop for your first overnight sleep, catching a full seven hours before departing ahead of the rising sun.
You ride onward, coming to the war lodge. You stop briefly and retrieve the meat and supplies you laid up for the return journey back.
Another two days of riding and you will be on the edge of Blackfoot territory, back on home soil. You have not seen any of the Cree that you stole from and you are thankful for that, but part of you was spoiling for a fight. Part of you wishes the beautiful dun you ride atop was draped in Cree scalps. You wonder if they even followed at all. And if they didn’t, is it because the party secured most of the fast horses or because the Cree are all cowardly.
Solidly in Blackfoot territory now, Kills Many Bulls calls a halt. You divide the horses, each raider making claim to as many as he feels are obligated. Some feud and squabble over the finest horses. Kills Many Bulls settles these disputes with a harsh word, and in one case, his fists.
Now for the final leg of your journey home, you and your fellow horse raiders will travel at a more leisurely pace, and before getting to your home village, you’ll stop to paint your faces and will again don your war medicine.
My older Blackfoot informants, men who had raided for horses, could not recall that any Blackfoot party had brought home as many as one hundred horses, although they knew of parties that had driven off more than that number from enemy camps. Forty to sixty horses was considered a very good haul.
- John C. Ewers, The Blackfeet: Raiders on the Northwestern Plains
You then ride into the village shouting and shaking your fist. Your face is painted black and red. Some of your comrades fire off guns. You drive before you the stolen horses. Three of which are yours, fine ponies. One even seems fast enough to hunt buffalo. It’s a respectable start to a horse herd. Probably not enough to gift the father of the black-haired beauty you long for, but it’s a start.
The women stand outside their lodges laughing and smiling at your return. The braves that stayed behind come to greet you and admire the sturdy animals you’ve brought home. Some look jealous, and their looks fill you with pride.
Now that you are home, the horses will be further distributed. Some will be given to family, such as fathers or father-in-laws, and some to the band Chief.
Young members who have traded for war medicine on loan, will repay their benefactors with promised horses. The youngest members would now have some experience under their belt, and may try to secure medicine of their own and go as proper raider themselves on future ventures.
And as for you, you start planning for the next raid. Another one and you may be able to make a play for the girl smiling at you across the victory fire.
As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed, you may also like my new novel Medicine Woman.
