Paths of the Mound-Building Indians and Great Game Animals — Key Ideas to Explore

Watersheds as Highways

Hulbert’s central argument is that the mound-building Indians located their settlements on the heads of lesser streams—the interior highlands—rather than along major rivers. He contends that this placement necessitated landward routes of travel, and that these routes followed the watersheds. To support this, he cites archaeological maps of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin, which show concentrations of mounds and earthworks in interior locations, away from the main watercourses. He also quotes an unnamed archaeologist who observed that the lines of former occupancy “crossed the larger water-courses, such as the Mississippi, rather than up and down them.” This reversal of the conventional riverine model is the book’s most distinctive contribution.

The Buffalo’s Role in Road-Making

In Part II, Hulbert turns to the buffalo, arguing that its seasonal migrations and habit of following the easiest grades created the first continental thoroughfares. He describes the buffalo as “a creature of habit,” whose trails were “the shortest and most direct routes between important points.” These paths, he claims, were later adopted by Indians and then by white settlers. The evidence includes early accounts of buffalo roads “wide enough for a wagon” and references to their use by pioneers. Hulbert’s treatment is methodical, but he is careful not to overstate: he notes that while buffalo trails were important, they were not the only influence on Indian routes.

Evidence from Local Roadways

Hulbert assembles a catalog of specific archaeological features that he interprets as remnants of ancient roads. These include “parallel walls, graded way and mounds” in Pike County, Ohio, and a “roadway cut entirely around” a conical hill in Licking County. He also lists traces of camp sites and old trails in Union County, Indiana, and an “elevated roadway, half a mile in length” in Madison County, Louisiana. While he admits that such local features alone do not prove a network of long-distance highways, he argues that they become significant when combined with the watershed theory. The cumulative effect is a mosaic of small clues pointing to a larger pattern.

Migration Across, Not Along, Rivers

A key piece of evidence for Hulbert’s thesis is the observation that archaeological remains of similar type are found on opposite sides of major rivers, rather than strung along their banks. He cites the Mississippi as an example: “the longest stretch where those apparently the works of one people are found on one bank is from Dubuque, Iowa, to the mouth of Des Moines river.” This suggests that mound-building groups moved across the river, not up or down it. Hulbert interprets this as support for his watershed migration model, though he concedes that a full classification of mound types has not been completed. The argument is intriguing but rests on a single, somewhat vague citation.

Limitations of the Evidence

Throughout the book, Hulbert is candid about the gaps in his evidence. He notes that “this work has not been done, save in the most general way possible,” referring to the classification of mounds needed to trace migration routes. He also acknowledges that the existence of local roadways does not prove a system of long-distance trails. The reader is left with a compelling hypothesis rather than a proven fact. Hulbert’s method is to accumulate suggestive details—maps, site descriptions, historical accounts—and let them point toward a conclusion he cannot fully demonstrate. This honesty gives the book a scholarly tone, but it also means that the argument remains provisional.

Hulbert’s study is best read as an early attempt to synthesize archaeology, geography, and history into a unified account of America’s first roads. The evidence is fragmentary, and the conclusions are often speculative, but the central insight—that watersheds, not waterways, were the primary corridors of prehistoric travel—remains provocative. Readers interested in the intersection of human and animal movement, or in the pre-Columbian landscape, will find much to consider, though they should be prepared for a work that raises as many questions as it answers.

Reading about watersheds as the quiet highways of the mound-builders, I remembered tracing an old map with my grandfather, his finger following the ridgelines, not the rivers. That same hush of layered history, of violent events leaving delicate traces, came back to me last winter with The Fall River Tragedy: A History of the Borden Murders — Edition Insights—the way a single house can hold an entire century's unease, much like a forgotten trail.