There was something about the Wikipedia entry regards the Mississinewa Battle that didn't seem quite right.
It is noted that the soldiers allowed the Miami hostages to ride their own horses to Fort Greenville (Ohio) in the bitterly cold weather, and, because of this "gift", 300 soldiers suffered frostbite.
Riding a 1000 pound working animal in the cold, except in high winds, is not a freeze-type situation. Throw out the high-wind qualifier, as frostbite is not reported among the 74 (mostly women and children) Miami hostages.
So by the "grace" of their captors, the Miami were spared the freezing, crippling cold of frostbite.
According to the marker at the Battlefield, out of a force of 600, there were twelve soldiers killed and forty-eight wounded.
And 100 horses killed.
The math does not compute. The forty-eight wounded were surely mounted, leaving 452 horses for 540 soldiers. So how does the largess shown the Miami account for 300 cases of frostbite? About 90 soldiers were walking: the disparity here is in the 210 range.
It is too much to swallow that 210 mounted troopers were frostbitten, and no Miamis, "allowed the use of their own horses", thus suffered.
Walked down to the river from the battlefield, and back, and looked in the woods around the memorial for arrow points. After a few minutes, it occurred the only points I was likely to find would be stuck in my shoe.
Driving north, I found a red tail hawk on a post in an old barnlot, ten feet from yesterday's American Kestrel. The red tail didn't tolerate much scrutiny, and left west into the woods in the nonce. Motoring slowly, I found the kestrel, forty yards on, at the very top of a dead tree in the woodlot. I didn't press and he seemed in no hurry to reclaim yesterday's perch.
There was a changing of the guard on the dead tree on Crow Road, a mile east of Grant Creek bridge. There were two Red-bellied Woodpeckers, feuding. Red-bellied woodpeckers are overgrown Downys, but full-bodied, not as svelte. They were almost indiscernible in relative size, yet one would choose a spot to drill for lunch, and the other was on him in seconds. This tree seemed no more promising than a hundred others within a hundred yards, but the tussle continued. They acted too, too much like people, and I moved on.
A fisherman at Grant Creek, and no (rather shy) egrets.
There were a couple of (always entertaining) Barn Swallows at Red Bridge.
The show, though not always spectacular, goes on.