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Stray Book / Westfield Township, OH 1856

At hand a “Stray Book,” a genre of record-keeping I never knew existed before happening across it a few weeks ago. In rural communities during the mid-1800s, before the advent of barbed wire fencing, horses, cows, and sheep sometimes moseyed from pasture to pasture and kept moving. Without brands or other identifying marks, there was no way to tell who the animal belonged to. Even with brands, the owner might be unknown. Thus livestock became strays. Sooner or later, someone would happen upon a lost cow or horse, and pen them for a while. Strays were reported to the town office where pertinent details were recorded and a notice posted. Here’s an example:

Taken up by the subscriber living in Westfield T.P. Morrow Co. O[hio] on the 13th day of June 1856. One sorrel roan mare about twelve & a half hands high… white about the eyes. With the brand J.P. on the left hip and left shoulder. The breast and shoulder spotted with white. Supposed to be about seventeen years old and will pace or trot. – Alexander Dixon

According to Wikipedia, barbed wire fencing was first patented by Lucien B. Smith of Kent, Ohio in 1867. He is also regarded as the inventor, though predecessor types of wire fencing existed. Barbed wire fences proved easier and cheaper to erect than fences made from other materials. They also kept livestock from roaming.

Several times in the text the word “estray” is substituted for “stray.” There seems not to be any difference in meaning. Estray is nearer the old French term estraier – meaning “to stray” – a compound of the Latin terms extra (“outside of”) and vagari (“to wander, to roam”).

Estray calves. Taken up by the subscriber on the 7th day of this month three stray cattle. One a red steer supposed to be one [year] old last spring. Small size for his age. The others both red & white spotted heifers supposed to be one year old last spring of middling size for their age, no brands or other marks perceivable. Westfield Dec. 9th, 1858. John Shaw.

There was flexibility in property law as applied to strays. If they weren’t claimed within a certain period of time, they could be sold. In fact, the earliest use of the term “stray” in English was embedded in law. The Memorials of Ripon published by the Surtees Society (UK) records the following from 1228: “Et habent catalla felonum… et wrek et wayf, stray, curiam suam et cognicionem de falso judicio.” The idea being that a domestic animal that had wandered from its owner could be legally impounded and forfeited if not redeemed. Waifs (or “wayfs”) were similar to strays, though the term implies a more passive status: something that is blown or waved about. Thus, the ownership status is even more doubtful.

I do hereby certify that I have sold a certain stray cow taken up by Adamjah [?] Messenger on the Eighth day of January A.D. 1856 with her increase to Adamjah Messenger for the sum of Sixteen dollars $16.00… Signed Jackson Jones, Const.

Dialogue spoken by the character Jack Cade of Shakespeare’s Henry VI, shows the shift in meaning from legal to figurative usage: “Here’s the Lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave” [Act IV, scene 10]. Stray here connotes not only going beyond established limits, but also deviating in conduct or opinion.

Some days I feel like a stray, or like I should stray. A fantasy: wandering far and getting lost — despite or due to the fact that I have generational roots where I reside and a strong sense of place. My wife and I live in the home of my maternal grandparents. My mother lives in the same house. I grew up in the house across the street. My home sits upon this narrow river valley nestled between Vermont and New Hampshire. But being at home hardly guarantees one a place in the world. In fact, it almost guarantees that one won’t have a place in the larger world. My inclination to stray – quieter now with age – has always to do with not realizing or fulfilling some need or wish, which creates anxiety and restlessness.

“Anon from error’s mazes
keeping th’ unsteady,
calling back the straies”
-Slyvester. Urania, 1605

Cats enjoy going outside. Dogs are called by their natures to explore. Animals roam. I presume they don’t think about it much. We are animals too, the type that think. In thinking we divide ourselves and weep. I reflect on my inclination to stray, and the seeming impossibility of doing so. Yes, there’s the urge to stray sexually, but sexual straying is a symptom as much as it is an end. It points to something beyond itself. We stray in search of something, but mostly we are led on a fool’s errand. The obscure urge to wander, physically and spiritually. The lure of nomad existence. The gypsy romance – but let us not forget that gypsies have been regarded historically by respectable city people and good country folk alike with contempt and suspicion… as if their bad consciences showed up in a caravan.

To stray from ourselves. To worship open spaces and endless highways, to despise fixed existence, to loathe settlement and “settling.” This, ironically paired with a quiet desperation for familiarity and the comforts of family, home, even health insurance and retirement benefits!

It’s enough to wrap oneself in barbed wire.

(All early usage examples from the O.E.D.)

Posted at 9:09pm and tagged with: Strays & Waifs, Ohio, Livestock, Barbed wire, 1850s, Divided Self,.