HISTORY OF BAY COUNTY

LEGEND OF THE “LONE TREE.”
By Judge Albert Miller

Some old landmarks in the vicinity of Bay City are remembered by the early settlers; for instance, there was the ‘lone tree, which, as near as the writer can recollect, stood on or near the ground that Thomas H. McGraw has recently improved for a race course on his prairie farm. It was an ash of vigorous growth, about eighteen inches or two feet in diameter, and during the season of foliage presented a bright green appearance. The name is obvious from its having stood in the open prairie completely isolated from all other timber. In early days all travel was on the river, and by that route the lone tree was estimated to be two miles from Portsmouth and four from Bay City. Travelers passing at any season of the year almost invariably saw a white owl perched upon the top of the tree. Some time about the year 1840, a very interesting poem was published in the Philadelphia Evening Post, and copied into a great many papers in different parts of the United States. The conception of the poem was an Indian legend, stating that the owl was the Good Spirit that watched over and guided the destinies of their tribe or race in the Saginaw Valley; that as long as the tree stood, and the Spirit continued his vigils, their tribe would remain and prosper, but when the Spirit in the shape of the owl should depart, their tribe would be scattered and eventually pass away. It was a wonder to many who knew the locality, who the poet could be who had conceived an Indian legend, and so beautifully woven it into a poem. Some ten years ago the late Hon. Artemas Thayer, of Flint, related to the writer the circumstances of his wedding tour, from Flint to Lower Saginaw, in a sleigh, accompanied by Miss Mather, of Flint, a young lady friend of the bride. They saw the white owl perched upon the lone tree, and on their return to Flint Miss Mather wrote the poem that attracted so much attention. Miss Mather subsequently went to New York, and at the residence of Horace Greeley suddenly expired, while packing her trunk preparatory to a voyage to Europe. There is something of a coincidence in the relations of the poet and the subsequent history of the Indians. During the Summer of 1838 the waters covered all the low lands of the Saginaw Valley, killing vast amounts of timber skirting the river and low lands of the Saginaw Valley, killing vast amounts of timber skirting the river and low prairies, and during that season the lone tree received its death blow, and soon was left leafless; but the owl still continued his vigils, perched upon the dead branches. But when the roots decayed and the tree was prostrated, the owl was seen no more. In 1837 the Indians sold their reservations to the United States Government, and about the same time their numbers were diminished one-half by the scourge of small-pox. The remnant lingered a few years about their old hunting grounds but were compelled to retire before the march of civilization; and by the time the lone tree was prostrated and the owl departed, but few of the aborigines were seen about their old haunts, where but a few years before th wee the owners and only occupants of the land” The owl was shot and killed about 1842 by James J. McCormick while out with a party on a hunting expedition up the river.

More minutely, the legend is as follows: -Many, many long years ago, before the white man’s foot had left its impress upon this valley, Ke-wah-ke-won ruled his people with love and kindness. He was a patriarch among them, and beloved for the gentleness of his manners, and the mildness of his government. He had been a great warrior in his day; but his youth had departed, and the languid pulse and feeble footstep told, alas, too plainly, that he would soon be treading the hunting grounds of the Great Spirit. The good old man felt that he was indeed passing away-dying-and he was desirous of seeing once more his tribes in council, to bestow upon them his last blessing, and impart to them his dying admonition and advice. The old chief lay upon his death bed, and around him were gathered, in mournful silence, his beloved people, eager to catch the first and last words that would drop from the lips of their dying chieftain. It was a mournful and melancholy picture, that death-bed scene in the wilderness. At

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length the chief spoke, while the fire of his youth seemed kindled again in his dim eye, and his voice, though weak, was calm and clear.

“My children,” said he, “the Great Spirit has called, me, and I must obey the summons. Already is the tomahawk raised to sever the last cord that binds me to my children; already my guide stands at the door to convey me to the hunting grounds of my fathers in the Spirit Land. You weep, my children, but dry your tears, for though I leave you now, yet will my spirit bird ever watch over you. I will whisper to you in the evening breeze, and when the morning comes you will know that I have been with you through the night. But the Good Spirit beckons me, and I must hasten. Let my body be laid in a quiet spot, with my tomahawk and pipe by my side. You need not fear that the wolf will disturb my rest, for the Great Spirit, I feel, will place a watch over me. Meet me in the Spirit Land, my children-farewell!” And the old chief slept the sleep that knows no waking till the end of time.

They buried him in a lone spot in the prairie, near the beautiful river, with his face toward the rising sun. His remains were never disturbed by bird or beast; for it would indeed seem that so the Great Spirit had ordered it. Time passed on, and a tree arose from his grave, and spread its branches over it, as if to protect it, and a beautiful white owl took possession of it. The Indians tell us that the ‘lone tree’ marked the last resting place of Ke-wah-ke-won, and that the white owl was the spirit bird sent to watch over it.