A hurricane three weeks ago blew a bunch of American Flamingos far north into the eastern United States where they’d never been seen before. The closest ones to me were in central Alabama, seven hours away. After debating with myself for a couple weeks, I decided to go for it. I left home at 7:00, arrived at the farm pond where they’d been hanging out every single day since they were first seen on September 2, and apparently missed them by no more than four hours. The very nice and apologetic couple who owned the pond, the McKemies, let me drive onto their property and even drove around to the other side of the pond in their golf course “in case the flamingos are hidden in the grass.”
I’ve made long drives and missed birds before, but not this long. Not nearly this long. I was discouraged. Janet McKemie took my number and offered to call me if the birds showed up the next morning, but I had a sense that I’d missed my window. I decided to head toward home, chopping three hours off Tuesday’s trip by staying in Tupelo. It turned out the be the right decision — the flamingos weren’t seen in the area again.
I settled into my hotel in Tupelo — a Comfort Suites I settled on by coaxing the clerk to find me all the discounts she could (which amounted to about $30 — down to $117). Soon I was feeling a bit more chipper and decided to spend the next morning seeing what there was to see in the area before driving the four hours home.
I’ve long been aware of the two Civil War Battlefields in the area, and that neither one was worth a concentrated effort. But since I was right there … Samuel Johnson once wrote about a famous scenic area in Scotland that “it was worth seeing, but it wasn’t worth going to see.” I’d put Brices Cross Roads into that category. Tupelo wasn’t even worth driving past.
I drove 14 miles north of town to Brices Cross Roads first.
In June 1964, while Sherman was attempting to take Atlanta, Nathan Forrest and his cavalry were causing chaos on his supply lines. Sherman ordered Samuel Sturgis to take a force into Mississippi and defeat Forrest. They met at Brices Cross Roads on June 10. Forrest, with a smaller force, attacked Sturgis, whose army was strung out and not prepared. After an all-day fight, Forrest had managed to crumple the Union lines and drive Sturgis’ army back, capturing his supply train in the process. Sturgis fled in defeat, but the action did keep Forrest out of Sherman’s hair.
The National Park area was behind me as I took this photo. Forrest’s troops advanced across this field towards where I stood. This part of the battlefield is preserved by a local association and isn’t interpreted in any way apart from this sign.
The National Park Service only has one acre of the battlefield preserved, although a local association has been formed which has purchased another 1,390 acres, which is nice. Development is creeping into the area, but the immediate land around the cross roads still looks rural. I spent three minutes in the National Park area and another 30 or so wandering around the rest of the battlefield — mostly looking for birds.
The cemetery next to the battlefield belongs to the Bethany Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church. The church was at the cross roads at the time of the battle, but the current building isn’t the original one. The cemetery was established in 1853 and contains many Confederate graves.
Later in the morning, after touring Elvis’ birthplace and eating lunch, I drove to the Tupelo National Battlefield. There is so little here that it’s rather a farce to even bother preserving it. All that’s left is a lot in the middle of town with a sign, a interpretive board, and a duplicate of the Brice Cross Roads monument. I stayed about four minutes.
I drove to the visitor center on the Natchez Trace Parkway to see if they had more info on the battles, but there was very little to see. I headed for home. Every truck in North America was traveling from Memphis to Little Rock on I-40 this afternoon, and they were all taking turns passing each other. One truck-caused jam lasted for at least 30 miles. I made it home somehow, but it wasn’t a rewarding trip.