This was virgin land, which had never felt a plow, but good crop land, and the new homesteaders immediately began breaking it up to plant crops. They were not used to "dry farming," relying on Mother Nature to provide the water for their crops and immediately set about building a network of canals and ditches to carry water from Conant Creek to their farm land. Joshua and others formed the Conant Creek Canal Comapny to oversee construction and maintenance of the canal system.
Each member of the Canal
Company was assessed a fee for use of the water, but most of
the members did not have the cash to pay the assessments, choosing
instead to work off the annual fee by assisting in canal maintenance
and upkeep. Each spring, the men would gather at the head of
the canal, set up camps, and spend several weeks working their
way down the system, repairing damage wrought by winter snows,
spring runoffs, ever-present ground squirrels and other burrowing
animals.
The spring of 1917 was no different. Among the young men gathered
to assist in the maintenance was my grandfather, Hazen Hawkes,
one of Joshua's grandsons. A lean, lanky youth, Grandpa was spending
one of those warm spring days filling in ground squirrel burrows
along the canal bank with another young man when they were sidetracked
by the discovery of a rowdy family of coyote puppies playing
under a rocky outcropping below the canal bank.
They decided the puppies
might make good pets and abandoning their ground squirrel burrows,
went down the hill and began digging out the coyote den. It was
harder work than they'd anticipated, and when they took a breather
Grandpa suddenly discovered the rock outcropping over the coyote
den had writing on it. Under the accumulation of lichen and dirt
he could make out a face, a cross and names. They were interrupted
in their examination of the rock by the crew's powder monkey,
who had been watching their futile efforts to dig out the puppies.
He offered his expertise - and dynamite - to remove the rock
blocking the den. Since this was also the rock with the writing
on it, the boys would also have solid proof they hadn't been
standing out in the sun too long when they took their story home
to their folks.
When the dust and smoke from the powder blast had settled, the
two boys had a chunk of rock with 5 names, the profile of a face,a
cross and the date 1810 on it, and nine stunned coyote puppies.
They stuffed the puppies in a gunny sack and tied a rope around
the rock, securing it to the saddle horn on Grandpa's horse,
Bob. By the time this was done and Grandpa, gunny sack in hand,
mounted, the coyote puppies were recovering their senses and
expressing displeasure at being stuffed in a dark, smelly gunny
sack. Bob turned his head, eyed the squirming gunny sack, felt
the pull of the rock, and promptly decided he didn't like either
one. In short order he unloaded Grandpa and the coyote puppies
and bolted through the sagebrush with the rock. The coyote puppies
scurried to safety and the boys were left without puppies, horse
or rock. When Grandpa finally found Bob two days later he still
had the saddle, but no rock.
Several years later, Grandpa, hired by the canal company as a
ditch rider, was riding through a meadow below the site of the
original rock when his horse, the same Bob, stumbled. Looking
down to see what the horse had stumbled over, Grandpa again saw
a rock with writing on it. This one bore the carvings "Camp
Henry" and "Sept. 1810." Covered with lichen and
hidden by the grass which came up to Bob's belly, the carvings
could not be seen by a man on foot, but with the noon sun directly
overhead they were visible from horseback.
Another, smaller rock
nearby bore the initials "LC." Grandpa noted the location
and continued on his inspection of the canal.
Bob would again lead Grandpa back to the original rock when he
wandered off while Grandpa was filling a gopher hole in the canal
bank. As he went to catch Bob, he stumbled, literally, over the
rock, but having discovered that while Bob seemed good at finding
rocks he did not like hauling them, Grandpa turned the rock face
down, noted its location, and went on. He mentioned his finds
to a few people, but they either thought he was pulling their
leg, or wanted to use the rock for their own material gains.
Grandpa conveniently "forgot" its location. As years
went by, however, he did not forget the rocks and it began to
bother him that he might have disturbed a grave marker or monument
to a long-dead mountain man.
Finally, in 1953, at the urging of his family, he began a serious search for the rock. It was gone from the spot where he'd last seen it, washed away by spring runoffs. During the search, Grandma found her own rock, a small one with "Henry" carved on it and broken in such a way that there may have been more in front of the name. Despite various members of the family (myself included) turning over a lot of rocks up and down Conant Creek, we were not as successful as Bob, and the Henry rock proved more elusive. I, for one, found playing in the creek a lot more entertaining. But Grandpa perservered and finally discovered the rock, almost hidden in the willow bush that had grown up around it, partially buried in the mud along the creek bank.
Over the years the rocks have generated their share of controversy, with some people claiming they are fakes, and others trying to claim ownership. Dr. Robert Glass Cleland, respected western historian, author of various books on the fur trade and histories of Mexico and California, and at the time a member of the research staff of the Huntington Library in San Marino, California, visited us in 1954 to look at the rocks and visit the site where they were found. He had no doubt they were authentic. Neither did Merrill J. Mattes, noted National Park Service Historian, who also came to see them for himself. I still remember my grandmother's reply when Dr. Mattes, cautiously hedging his bets, told my grandparents he thought the rocks certainly did appear authentic. "Well," my grandmother shot back, "We don't think they're authentic, we know they're authentic."
Perhaps the best recognition of their authenticity is the persistence with which some folks have tried to get their hands on the Henry Rock. Being portable (if you can call a 75 or so lb. hunk of granite portable), it has been the object of intense interest by a variety of people over the years. People were always after Grandpa to loan, donate or just plain give it to them for all kinds of interesting reasons, ranging from "we can make a fortune with it," and "it ought to be where more people can see it" to rather transparent reasons we suspected disguised a strong desire to make the rock vanish permanently because its existence didn't agree with their version of the local history.
Somewhere along the line, I suddenly discovered I had become owner of the Henry Rock. I've never quite figured out how or why, but my best guess is that Grandpa got tired of people bugging him about the rock and decided since I was conveniently away, first in college and later working for the National Park Service, my ownership would get him off the hook.
For awhile, we loaned the rock for display at the Idaho Falls Public Library and other places where the public could see it. However, a group of individuals who wanted us to permanently "donate" the rock to them and when they were refused tried to "borrow" it from the Library. After they returned it, we quit loaning it out for several years, and it resided under a bed in Mother's spare bedroom, certainly not an ideal spot, but at least a safe one. When the Bonneville Historical Society established their museum in the old Idaho Falls Public Library and asked if they might display the rock, we agreed. The rock rightfully belongs back in its original location, but until such time as it can be placed there with assurances it will remain there, the Museum gives people a chance to see it without having to peer under beds.
The Historical Society has made the rock a part of their permanent display in the Museum, in a very well-done exhibit. For those who have never been to the Museum of Idaho, it is well worth the visit, and not just to view the rock. Check out the Museum web pages for the latest exhibit information and plan on spending some time there.
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