Among the stories in John S. Minard’s book, Recollections of the Log School House Period and Sketches of Life and Customs in Pioneer Days, a short book with a long title, there is a humorous story about a turkey shoot held in December 1835 in a mysterious place in Allegany County, called Bugville. Also mentioned in this story were Butternut Flats and the Eagle Tavern. Even the county historian and friends who live in Allegany County were stumped as to where this turkey shoot took place. (If any readers know the location, please contact me.) However, there is mention of the Indian reservation, which suggests that Bugville was tucked away somewhere between Wiscoy and Caneadea and disappeared into the mists of time. This was Minard’s stomping ground; he was born on the reservation on January 31, 1834, in the Town of Hume, and he collected many tales from the old pioneers. This story takes place when Senecas and pioneers were neighbors, survival was hard, and money was even harder to come by. Since we are entering the season where most of us look forward to turkey and stuffing in a few weeks, it seemed appropriate to recount the exploits of Bill Moseley and his turkey shoot.
Winter was settling in on Butternut Flats, and Bill Moseley was wondering how he was going to unload the 100 plump turkeys roosting in his barn and turn a profit. Quite a few of his neighbors had their own large flocks of gobblers, causing a glut in the turkey market. It wasn’t looking promising that he’d even make the feed money back, and he certainly couldn’t keep them over the winter. They were just too expensive to keep.
Bill, who had an agile and entrepreneurial mind, struck upon an idea that would focus the attention on his flock first to bring in the cash he so desperately needed to make it through the long winter. He would host a turkey shoot, charging men a fee per shot at these fine, ready-for-the-table birds. Whether killed outright or wounded, the bird would be “won” by the shooter. Bill, according to John Minard, also had a “conscience of the adjustable kind—quite elastic, and could be accommodated to almost any conceivable condition.”
Bill went into Bugville, which boasted a post office, general store, grist mill, blacksmith, and several other shops, but most importantly the Eagle Tavern. He stopped in to talk with the owner about using his barn and the possibility of some good trade on the day of the event, and a deal was struck. Bugville was also on the stagecoach run, and Bill had become good pals with Joe Jackson, one of the drivers. Bill caught up with him to tell him about the idea. Joe agreed that it was a good way to liquidate the inventory. He also recommended that Bill have handbills printed up to advertise the event properly. Bill agreed since Joe’s brother could do the job at a discounted price in the city, and Joe would deliver them for free. The handbill was as follows:
Of course, Bill Jones and Sam Weller weren’t very pleased that they were banned from the shoot, but Bill Moseley wasn’t about to let his turkeys go for five or ten cents each. The two men were well-known for their marksmanship. As mentioned before, he was a good businessman, and he intended to make a healthy profit, which brings us to the next part of the story. As the handbill stated, the shoot was in the vicinity of the Eagle Tavern, which was no casually chosen location. Bill intended to give the tavern keeper some extraordinary business on December 23rd.
The handbills were duly printed and distributed liberally throughout the area, so when December 23rd proved a sunny, cold day, perfect for shooting turkeys, it looked like Bill was on his way to success. Men were coming in on foot, by wagon, and even several Seneca men were ready for the big day. The Senecas had hiked in the night before from the reservation and stayed overnight at Deacon Mosher’s house. The deacon was known to leave his door unlocked at night, which was common knowledge among the Senecas, and Billey Bowlegs, Tom Trimsharp, and Sam Sundown made themselves at home after the deacon was in bed. Deacon Mosher awoke to find that the three men had a good fire started and were getting ready to head to the tavern. Joe, the stagecoach driver, had brought in some friends of his from the city the day before, and now a large crowd was anxious for the festivities to begin.
With rifles draped over their forearms and feet stomping to keep warm, the participants watched Bill and his assistants bring out turkeys at the advertised distance, which may or may not have been accurate. Bill had other assistants in the crowd collecting money for shots and encouraging the shooters to keep warm by patronizing the tavern. All were having a grand time shooting and drinking, and by three o’clock Bill was sure he’d make a sizeable profit on the birds. About half of the gobblers were taken by then, and if the men had money to keep shooting and drinking, Bill Moseley wouldn’t have any cash-flow problems over the winter.
It was about the time Bill was feeling quite celebratory over his successful turkey shoot when a wagon with six crack shots from Briar Hill rolled into Bugville. Briar Hill was twenty miles away and Bill hadn’t imagined that his marketing scheme would reach that far. He hadn’t barred them from participating, so now he was stuck. These men were cold sober, and the local crowd was well over the limit and ready to be spectators as the Jim Swanzey of Briar Hill and his friends stepped up to take their shots. With amazing speed, forty-eight turkeys were dispatched or wounded by the Briar Hill gang.
As Bill watched his profits dwindle, he and his assistants coaxed the shooters to slow down and have some whisky, but they refused, telling him they’d be happy to have a drink after they finished. He even attempted to hold back a few turkeys, but the Briar Hill men were keeping a strict count, and Bill had to produce the fowl.
After the melee, the men loaded up their wagon with dead and some slightly wounded turkeys, and then filled a large dry goods box full of more lifeless birds. The whole crowd then commenced some serious imbibing after such an entertaining afternoon in the warm tavern. Whiskey, hard cider, flip (a hot drink of beer, rum, and sugar), and “Tom and Jerry”(brandy and rum) flowed freely; the tavern keeper was run off his feet keeping everyone’s glass full.
More shooting took place as darkness fell, men “snuffing the candle,” which was shooting the flame off a candle. Others raffled off turkeys to those not so lucky, and finally the Briar Hill boys, who now realized that the moon was high and they needed to head home with their prizes, began hoisting themselves into the wagon. However, they were all far too drunk to drive over the treacherous roads in the dark.
Bill Moseley, who’d been stewing for hours over the hiding he’d taken from the Briar Hill men, came up with a plan to help the poor men make it home. He offered two men from Bugville who were completely sober to drive the wagon over the first four or five miles, which was the worst part of the road back. It was possible someone would be sober enough to drive by then. The strange load of drunken men singing and laughing along with the unfortunate injured turkeys complaining loudly went off into the night.
All went well until the driver made a “miscalculation” on a dugway, running the wheels off the road. The wagon tipped out its contents of turkeys and men about fifteen feet below into the shrubbery. Turkeys, alive and dead, were thrown into bushes, as were the men. Fortunately, the horses and driver, who was interestingly enough leading the team at the time, were unhurt.
It wasn’t until daybreak that the wagon was loaded up with dead turkeys and sober men to complete the journey to Briar Hill. They considered themselves lucky to not be seriously hurt, and weren’t worried about chasing down any live turkeys left in the woods. Mike Parsons and Dave Sanborn, Bill Moseley’s confederates, hightailed it back to Bugville, quickly letting Bill know he might be able to shoot some turkeys at a certain spot along the road. Bill took their advice and was pleased with the final outcome.
As for the other turkey shooters, two of the city fellows managed to bag a bird apiece, but it cost them quite a bit, which was fine by them. They enjoyed the adventure into the wilds. Of the Senecas, only Tom Trimsharp was successful; the Indians were better shots at deer than turkey, plus the other two were excellent customers at the tavern. The biggest winner of the day was Ephraim Thornton, the tavern keeper, who had the best day ever selling liquor and food at Bill Moseley’s turkey shoot.
