I love these rock walls. They criss-cross my family’s property in the Ozarks. Wander around those mountains and you’ll find lots of rock walls like that.
When I see them, I always wonder about who built them. My great-great-great grandparents through my Dad were in Northwest Arkansas around Cane Hill about the time Arkansas got statehood. They settled in places most Arkansans have never heard of like Vineyard Township, Barker Gap, Cove Creek and Bugscuffle. They lived a hardscrabble life - growing what food they could and tending livestock. And there’s where the rocks must have come into play.
You can’t dig a hole on our family land without dulling your shovel’s blade on a rock just under the surface. Boulders from the size of a couch to the size of a small house are common off in the woods. Rock outcroppings similar to (but not as dramatic or picturesque) as Hawksbill Crag jut out over much smaller cliffs.
So imagine trying to till a field for your corn crop and digging out rock after rock after rock. What do you do with them? Obviously, you stack them (no cement!) into rock walls along the property line or border of the field. In my mind, I always imagine the children being pressed into doing this work.
Now, more than 160 years later, erosion and oak trees have pushed the rock walls over in spots. But they’re still standing, even in the deepest part of the woods. I know nothing I create will be around in 160 years. Nobody will be reading this in 2186.
Near my favorite hunting spot, I’ve started restacking some of the rocks that have been pushed over by the decades. So, maybe, one day my great-great-great grandchildren (or somebody’s) will come across those rocks and be as curious about them as I always am.
