George Singleton retraces history along the old 'Path of Wolves'

General Andrew Jackson

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Retracing history along the Path of Wolves,” was originally published in the Dec. 7, 1995 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Saturday, Dec. 2, was one of the most ideal days for a wandering vagabond that have seen lately. Since my dear wife was out of town on a shopping spree, I decided to make good use of this beautiful day and retrace some early paths of our history.

I couldn’t decide just which was I was going until I reached the community of Burnt Corn. From there, I made my way up through Old Texas, looking here and there for something that maybe I had overlooked on some of my previous excursions.

After several stops at old burial grounds, I slowly found myself in the community of Pine Orchard. Turning south, I found myself on the thousand-year-old trail formerly known as the Path of Wolves.

I never grow tired of traveling down this old road that divides Monroe and Conecuh counties. I have traveled this road many times, but each time there is something different to be seen or heard as you make your way southward from the area of Pine Orchard, south through the community of Burnt Corn and beyond.

Much has happened along this old historical path during the past 700 or 800 years. Its history goes far back into a time when it was only a wide path instead of the much-traveled road that it is today.

As the early settlers made their way into this strange and little-known area, the wide trail was referred to by the local Indians as the Path of Wolves. No one knows just how long this path that weaved its way through the heavy timbers and tall grass has carried this name. An estimated guess, after studying the several ancient village sites, would be perhaps several hundred years or so.

In the modern-day world, we forget to remember that the early Indian was human just as we are today. In their travels across the countryside, they took the paths of least resistance, just as we do today. They traveled the high ground and followed the trails of various wild animals. Perhaps, this path was started by a pack of wolves that made its way across the area in search of food.

As you study the habits of these wild predators, you will find that they too are creatures of habit. They establish their routes of travel, leaving them only to hunt for food. After these hunts, they returned to these well-used trails that carried them to other locations in search of better hunting grounds.

Let us look back in time and try to imagine just how it was along this ancient path a few hundred years ago. You might see a large group of early Indians as they slowly made their way southward toward the mighty ocean in the distance. Here, they would camp for a number of days to fish and gather oysters.

Before returning, their catch would be smoked over open fires to preserve it for the journey home up the trail.

As the group slowly made its way northward, the crisp morning air reminded them that the season of popping trees was just a short time away. Within a few days, the chilly white frost would blanket the morning countryside. And, as the bright full moon crossed the heavens, the calls of wild geese as they flew south would ride the chilly winds of the evening.

The glow of the village fires would chase the shadows from around the brush huts of the village. Much had to be done around the villages before the hand of winter reached down from the north and gripped the countryside in its icy grasp.

One day during early October, there came unfamiliar sounds from the west, toward the great river. The villagers listened as strange sounds rode the chilly winds of the morning. The clatter of body armor and men sitting upon strange beasts, later to become known as horses, came up the trail that led from the great river and the setting sun.

Herds of strange-looking animals, called swine, followed behind the men who wore strange clothing that glistened in the autumn sun. The strange animals they rode also wore bright garments. The Indians would, within two days, come to know these strangers as DeSoto and his Spanish army of conquistadors.

Before the sun would set again, their blood would stain the ground of their village, and the death and destruction brought on by DeSoto’s army would be remembered for hundreds of years to come.

An uneasy peace would settle over the Path of Wolves for the next hundred or so years. Then, another strange and unfamiliar sound would ride the winds from the east. The coming of the white settlers and their wagon loads of household goods would dot the old path as they sought out the level land, places where they could farm and scar the land with their plows and axes. They would scar the land that has been hunted by the Indian for a thousand years, a land that has been shared for the benefit and well being of all until now.

As the wagons of the settlers continued to appear along the Path of Wolves, the sounds of war drums would mount the evening winds. Being pushed from their villages along the trail, blood would again be spilled as the native Indians tried in vain to regain the land that would never again be theirs to hunt and roam at will.

Battles were fought with names like Burnt Corn Springs and Murder Creek and many other skirmishes between the white and red man as the fierce struggles for the beloved lands of the Indian continued on. Along the Path of Wolves, log cabins would appear and even larger houses – one where a doctor would live and practice his profession.

Again from the east would come the clatter of armor as Andrew Jackson (Old Hickory) and his army moved southward with their cannons and muskets. The native Indians would be herded like cattle and forced westward to far-off places that were called reservations. These people would never again see their beloved land along the Path of Wolves, now known as the Federal Road, since Jackson and his army came this way.

This ancient path would again feel the wheels of the many stagecoach and wagons as the travelers that rode them moved westward. Stagecoach rest stops and relay stations would appear along the path and the adjoining trails that led to places like Claiborne, Bell’s Landing, Old Scotland and Pensacola.

More cabins would dot the countryside as the land-hungry settlers cleared away the forests that once grew in abundance along this ancient path.

Faded are the signs of an earlier and happy civilization. Gone are the brush houses of the large villages along the path. Only the remains of a few ancient fire pits are to be found that give any evidence of an earlier time in area history.

Today, our modern society deals harshly with out history. As have many other historical locations of this area, the Path of Wolves has long faded on the winds of oblivion. The history of what is now referred to as the Old Federal Road will also soon disappear from the scene.

Verses 15 and 16 of Psalm 104 just might describe it far better than I could ever dream of doing. This could also apply to today’s society if we are not careful.

As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)