I once saw a presentation on these Comanche marker trees by Linda Pelon at a history conference. I was intrigued by the idea and started looking for them in the parts of Texas I hunt or explore. About ten years later came this book, by Pelon (an anthropologist/historian), Steve Houser (an arborist), and Jimmy W. Arterberry (a Comanche tribal historian).

Though informative and, at times, interesting, unfortunately, the book is mostly dry, scientific, and choppy (each chapter and sometimes each sub-chapter are written by a different combination of the authors). The book is divided into three parts. Part one discusses what marker trees are (bent or manipulated trees that point out trails, magical spots, etc.), how they are identified, what they mean, etc. Part two discusses the process and biology of creating such a bent/shaped tree. Part three profiles seven trees that have been recognized as Comanche marker trees because they meet the biological, historical, and conditional requirements to be Comanche marker trees.

When the book is talking about the trees, their location, and what they might point to, the book is pretty good. It is a neat subject and one that has not really been researched. Due to the nature of its evidence, it is a piece of scholarship that definitely has a ticking clock on it: eventually, most of these trees will probably die off. In that sense, this is an important book.

There are a few problems I have, however.

One is what I call the "hippie Indian" trope. The idea that Native Americans were "one with nature" and peaceful beings until the perfidious white man came along. This is, of course, unhistorical poppycock. (By the way, the "hippie Indian" trope is a reaction to the once dominant trope that all Native Americans were "bloodthirsty savages" devoid of civilization and humanity.) For instance, Houser's preface has this line (p. xi): "For an outdoors person, it was moving to hear a Comanche tribal elder explain that his people are 'one with nature'; such experiences still give me goose bumps and raise the hair on my arms." Well, no tribe was as "one with nature" as they would lead you to believe. Comanches did not always "use all parts of the buffalo" and they often set whole prairies on fire to hunt for game. (They often set grass, woods, and crops afire to attack their enemies too. Not really "one with nature.") Houser continues (p. xi): "To hold hands with my children, friends, and Comanche officials as we danced and sang to the tree, was a treasured experience." I can imagine this animistic Woodstock.

The second problem, indeed, proceeds from this first. The Comanche were not peaceful hippies. Once they secured the horse, they became an expansive and martial imperial power. They pushed southward into Texas in the 1700s, warring against numerous other tribes, killing, kidnapping, and doing worse to their enemies, and taking their land. It is thus weird to hear Pelon, who ought to know her history better, say (p. xv) that the Comanche "successfully defended their immense homeland from an unending tide of European and American invaders." This is weird because, first, the Comanche were invaders into West Texas and the surrounding areas and, second, they were not, in the end, successful defenders of their "homeland." Ask the Apache, Tonkawa, Caddos, or a dozen other tribes whose "homeland" Pelon gives to the Comanche. What is especially troubling is the location of the Comanche marker trees that have thus far been identified. The informative map on page 65 suffices to show that some of these trees can be said to be on the eastern edge of Comancheria, but that is being generous. Most of these trees seem to be markers and pointers for an expansive military power, i.e. these trees point the ways to attack neighboring tribes. Take the three identified trees in Leon County, Texas, which can only really be defined as EAST Texas (or, to be charitable, eastern central Texas). This is not Comanche land, this is deep in the territory of their enemies. They might be pointers for trade trails, but they were just as likely pointers for war parties. Yet, when we read about the purpose of such trees in a chapter by Arterberry (ch. 4, see the chart on page 42 for instance) he does not mention warfare at all. In fact, reading over this whole book you would be forgiven for thinking that the Comanche never had war parties, warpaths, warriors, or wars of any sort. But, more importantly, why are there no marker trees in West Texas (i.e., the place where the Comanche lived)? This could be better addressed. But, most troublingly, it is this idea that Native Americans were all peace-loving, nature-loving people that leaves a gaping hole in the analysis of these trees. They may point to ceremonial places or natural resources (water, paints, bow trees, etc.), but they may also be pointers on warpaths and war-trails, but this is roundly ignored by the authors.

And the third problem. Pelon writes in her introduction on the methodology to identify the Comanche marker trees, both scientific and historical. But then she writes (pp. xviii-xix) that it is only the "Comanche Nation who should decide whether or not these trees are Comanche Traditional Cultural Properties if they occur in areas documented as part of the former Comanche homeland." (There's the troubling "homeland" again....) She further states that: "As a sovereign nation they have both the right and the expertise to evaluate these sites according to their own cultural traditions." This is both quite UN-scientific and UN-historical; it is bad science and bad history. Neither science nor history need the cultural arbitration of a group of people to verify their conclusions. For instance, German Jews need not be consulted to verify if one of Albert Einstein's equations are scientifically valid, nor must a present-day Spaniard be consulted to determine the veracity of a historical artifact from Hernando Cortés's conquest of the Aztec. Hopefully you get what I'm saying: we can talk about ancient Greek history without being ancient Greeks and without needing to consult current Greeks. Back to Comanche marker trees: we can identify them without being nineteenth-century Comanche, and we can identify them without consulting current Comanches. If you have set up proper and verifiable scientific and historical criteria to determine what is and what is not a Comanche marker tree, anybody can do it if they properly follow the process. Now, maybe you think I am overreacting. It is nice to consult Comanche tribal elders and historians, but to say that it is ONLY up to them is silly. (It's as if claiming that I am an expert on farming in 1860s Alabama because my ancestors were farmers in 1860s Alabama.) Follow the proper processes and identify the trees, don't worry about earning cultural and spiritual thumbs up from the descendants of your historical subjects.

It is a neat topic. I hope hikers, naturalists, and arborists will scour the state of Texas for more such marker trees (before they succumb to nature); I hope that cultural anthropologists and folklorists will interview present-day Comanche (and other tribes) for more info on marker trees and their uses; and, finally, I hope that historians, archivists, and antiquarians will search the historical record for more information on these trees. I hope that identification, presentation, and preservation can take place. All-in-all, the book is important, its research is important. It just has some flaws. ( )

Good science, history, and photos. Multiple experts help the project. I would like to have seen the estimated age brackets of the studied trees however. ( )