Cat, Horn and Deer? How the 6 barrier islands of the Mississippi Coast got their names

Bali Ha’i will whisper,

On the wind of the sea.

‘Here am I, your special island,

‘Come to me, come to me!’

I hope I just placed an ear worm into your brain and you are humming that enchanting tune from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, “South Pacific.”

I want you to have islands on the brain, not imaginary Pacific islands but our very own sandy spits whose lifeblood comes from the Mississippi Sound and the Gulf of Mexico.

Cat, Horn, Ship, Petit Bois, Deer and Round islands belong to “we the people,” not private landowners who would fence us out. For that we should be grateful. We should take the time to know their histories, partake of their pleasures and know why they have such odd names.

You’ve probably heard Cat Island is called that because the French in 1699 thought those curious ring-tailed animals were cats. Not! You’ve likely heard Horn got its name from a left-behind French powder horn. Maybe. And perhaps you’ve heard Ship got that name because of its natural anchorage. Correct!

These Mississippi Gulf Coast islands play a vital role in coastal ecology, helping buffet us from storm surges, providing a natural sandy playground, inviting migrating birds for a rest, saving endangered species, offering nest sites for sea turtles and fishing opportunities for both human and animal.

Yet, do we really appreciate these offerings at our front door? How long has it been since you took a boat ride to absorb the magic of the islands and the sea?

Not having a boat is no excuse. If you can’t bum a ride from a friend, take one of the excursion boats. From time to time, successful entrepreneurs offer trips to the islands, but the most long-lasting is the Skrmetta family.

Ninety-five years ago, the Skrmettas began island ferry rides, an excursion that happily continues today to Ship Island. Additional modern possibilities offer dolphin-watching and cocktail or beer cruises — offerings to please tourist and local alike.

Think how lucky we are to be able to take a healthy dose of Vitamin Sea.

The Mississippi Coast claims 9,500 acres of undeveloped barrier islands, plus or minus the give-and-take of storms and natural erosion.

A barrier is a long, broad sandy island that parallels the shore and is built up and down by waves, currents and winds. It is called “barrier” because it protects the coastline from erosion. The side closest to the coastline often has vegetation and swampy areas. The exposed outer side, in our case the Gulf side, typically has beautiful beaches and sand dunes.

The condominium that collapsed near Miami recently is on a barrier island and shifting sands are being studies as a possible reason for the disaster that killed about 100. Attempts to develop Mississippi’s barrier islands never came to fruition, and today these four island are protected as part of Gulf Islands National Seashore.

When the French landed in 1699 to explore and claim its slice of the New World for King Louis XIV, they anchored off Ship Island but first called it Isle des Surgeres, with Surgeres being the captain of Le Marins, one of the French ships. They later named it Isle aux Vaisseaus, translated Island of Ships because as the first French predicted, the island provided great anchorage.

There is where, at the end of the War of 1812, the mightiest armada to ever approach American shores amassed to descend on New Orleans.

There, during the Civil War, is where federal troops bivouacked to keep an eye on imprisoned Southerners. Decades later, attempts to save Fort Massachusetts,under construction when war broke out, helped lead to formation of the national seashore.

In 1969, Hurricane Camille split the island in two, and for 50 years Mother Nature slowly worked at healing the cut. Two years ago, the Corps of Engineers finished closing the gap.

That wasn’t the case for nearby Dog Island, noted by early explorers as a mystery that would come and go. In the 1920s, it was renamed Isle of Caprice and became a resort popular for gambling and national swimming contests before it disappeared again.

Each of the islands spawns its own legends and for Horn that includes a gun powder horn. That story is that when Bienville, brother of the 1699 French leader Iberville, explored the island one of his men left behind a horn. Or, they believed the land was shaped like a horn. Whichever, early maps call it Isle au Corne, “corne” being French for horn.

When Bienville was the shining star of the French Louisiana colony, which then included Mississippi, the island was called Isle Bienville, but when he fell out of favor with royalty the name reverted back to Horn. One of its most interesting chapters is in World War II when the Army set up a secret chemical warfare testing camp there.

The Cat Island name also plays on the fact that the LeMoyne brothers, Bienville and Iberville, were French-Canadians. The Cat legend is one of those that just refuses to die or be corrected.

The most cited version goes something like this: The men serving under the LeMoyne brothers thought the funny looking animals with white rings around their tails must be wild cats, so they named the island Isle aux Chats, “chat” being French for cat.

The historic discrepancy is that French-Canadians already knew what a raccoon was because they had plenty of them in their North American homeland. Also, they already called their familiar raccoon, “chat sauvage,” French for wild cat. As more proof, French-Canadians and later trappers simply called a raccoon pelt “chat.” So at best this popular legend might be considered half right.

Next, Cat Island went to the dogs. Someone with political pull convinced the government during World War II that dogs could be trained to recognize and attack enemy Japanese soldiers on sight.

During this experiment, the dogs were trained on Cat. Twenty-seven Nisei (Japanese-Americans from Hawaii) came to the island every day dressed in padding that didn’t allay fears of dog attacks. Despite their bravery, the experiment failed miserably, and eventually the Nisei left their secret camp on Ship Island to head to the war front and earn many battlefield medals.

The only barrier island to retain its French name is Isle aux Petit Bois, translated “little woods” although today we simply call it Petit Bois Island. We also use the American pronunciation that sounds like “petty boy.”

Interestingly, Petit Bois was once part of Alabama’s Dauphin Island, earlier known as Murder Island because of numerous unexplained human bones found there. When Dauphin was split by a 1717 hurricane, the western half kept moving westward into Mississippi and the island’s unusual little woods became the permanent name.

History — pirates, buried treasures, military take-overs, local island families, farming experiments — also abounds on two small coastal islands closer to shore.

One early account of the Iberville exploration noted about Deer Island, “To this day it is called Isle aux Chevreuils because of the great quantity of deer to be found on it.”

Whether a land bridge existed at that time to allow deer to travel or whether the island was closer to Biloxi’s shoreline is still debated. Not surprisingly, oral histories from Coast old-timers say Native Americans first gave it the Deer name.

One of the smallest islands, Round near Pascagoula, became the mid-1800s launch pad for a failed revolution by exiles and mercenaries to free Cuba from Spain. Its hurricane-toppled lighthouse is now reconstructed in Pascagoula.

Such island histories are just the tip of the sandberg, definitely worth exploring as your own special Bali Ha’i.

Kat Bergeron, a veteran feature writer specializing in Gulf Coast history and sense of place, is retired from the Sun Herald. She writes the Mississippi Coast Chronicles column as a freelance correspondent. Reach her at BergeronKat@gmail.com or at Southern Possum Tales, P.O. Box 33, Barboursville, VA 22923.