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A Short History of Our Canadian Dogs: A Few Things I Didn’t Know

“These tents, also their kettles, and some other lumber, are always carried by dogs, which are trained to that service, and very docile and tractable….These dogs are equally willing to haul in a sledge, but as few of the men will be at the trouble of making sledges for them, the poor women are obliged to content themselves with lessening the bulk of their load, more than the weight, by making the dogs carry these articles only, which are always lashed on their backs, much after the same manner as are, or used to be on, packhorses.” – Samuel Hearne, 1770s traveling with the Chipewyan. (From Hearne, S., 1958. A Journey to the Northern Ocean. Edited by R. Glover. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada Limited)

I was shocked when I first read Samuel Hearne’s account of dogs among the Chipewyan of northwestern Canada. That image in my mind of the gallant team of husky dogs pulling a sled laden with goods and its musher over Canada’s frozen northern expanses was tarnished a little.

According to ethnohistorian, Dr. Patricia McCormack, in the western Subarctic the long dog train was mostly a fur trade thing, although more common in the high arctic among the Inuit long before Europeans found the New World: “In the pre-fur trade days, it was mostly women and girls, [among the Mackenzie Basin Dene] not dogs, who hauled the sleds.” (Patricia McCormack 2020:112, In Dogs in the North, Stories of Cooperation and Co-Domestication. Routledge; brackets mine).

Compare Hearne’s description of the Chipewyan dogs to this rather majestic painting of the Chipewyan hunter coming to Fort Prince of Wales in 1734 with his team of large dogs pulling a sled. Not only is the accuracy of the dog team pulling a sled this early questionable, as we shall see even the type of domestic dogs used by the Chipewyan in this painting may be inaccurate. (Painting by A. H. Hider, for a Hudson’s Bay Company Calendar, 1921)

In this post I’ll try to answer what role dogs played among Indigenous People and first Europeans in Canada? What did they look like? How long have domestic dogs been in the Americas? What historical evidence (oral, written or archaeological) exists to shed some light on their use and association with humans?

I first became interested in this topic (not only because I’m an avid dog lover) when putting together an exhibit on travel in the fur trade for our new Royal Alberta Museum. And then more recently for a novel of historical fiction I have been working on. My research revealed the history of dogs in Canada is complex. Even partly obscure. It turns out I was also getting some basic facts wrong!

This painting by famous western artist Paul Kane captures the three main modes of land travel the Cree used in the western Canadian park lands near the North Saskatchewan River, in the middle of the 19th century. Walking, riding, with horses and dogs pulling their belongings on travois. Everyone – men, women, children, horses and dogs – pitched in to move from one place to another. Plains First Nations Peoples did not use dogs to pull sleds but instead to pull travois laden with belongings and children during the summer months. But, was that all they used them for?

In this post I’ll examine some key works that shed light on the prehistory and history of dogs in Canada. Then I’ll add my two cents worth on what I’ve learned about the fur trade dogs based on the written historic and archaeological evidence I’ve examined.

Indigenous Peoples’ Dogs in Canadian Antiquity

The Prehistoric Archaeological Record

Here’s the first thing I got wrong about domestic dogs in the Americas. They weren’t originally domesticated in the Americas. According to recent evidence and theories, the first domestic dogs arrived in the Americas, probably across Beringia (land once connecting Asia and North America, now the Bering Strait) with humans. And they may have arrived very early.

In a recent article, archaeologist, Daryl Fedje and colleagues conclude from archaeological evidence recovered from Haida Gwaii, British Columbia, Canada, that the, “…domestic dog was present on Haida Gwaii by ca. 13,100 years ago…. The haplotype D6 premolar is from one of the oldest domestic dogs known from the Americas and its radiocarbon age and DNA results suggest association with a founding population.” (From Daryl Fedje, Quentin Mackie, Duncan McLaren, Becky Wigen, John Southon, 2021. “Karst Caves in Haida Gwaii: Archaeology and Paleontology at the Pleistocene-Holocene Transition.” In Quaternary Science Reviews 272.)

So, the first domestic dogs arrived in the Americas with humans. But why bring them along? And were dogs used for only pulling sleds? It appears not. By the time Europeans arrived in the New World, Indigenous cultures in the Americas used dogs for herding, hauling, hunting, wool for garments, spiritual endeavors, and companionship. Just how much of this diversification of breeds and function occurred in the Americas, as opposed to what was originally brought over from Asia, is still unknown.

And among many cultures the dog was occasionally a source of food. Either because of necessity or preference. Such as at Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump in southern Alberta, Canada.

In September 2016, Royal Alberta Museum archaeologists dug up a 1,600-year-old roasting pit at Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo Jump in southern Alberta. Notes from the crew: "In the foreground the edge of the roasting pit extends out of the excavation - this is what we first saw in 1990. You can see the big rocks that lined the base of the pit, plus some bison bones just above those. This meal was prepared 1,600 years ago by digging a hole, lining it with big rocks, burning a hot wood fire on the rock in the pit and let it burn down to coals, a layer of willows or similar wet brush laid on the coals, meat - in this case a bison calf and a dog placed on the brush, another layer of brush on the meat, a thin layer of dirt covered the brush and a hot fire built on top of that. It was normally allowed to cook overnight and by all accounts was tasty and tender in the morning. According to one account, bison calf cooked this way was the best food you ever tasted. In this case nobody got to taste it because the pit was mysteriously never reopened.". The following quote is from the link below: “In September 2016, Royal Alberta Museum archaeologists dug up a 1,600-year-old roasting pit at Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo Jump in southern Alberta. Notes from the crew: “In the foreground the edge of the roasting pit extends out of the excavation – this is what we first saw in 1990. You can see the big rocks that lined the base of the pit, plus some bison bones just above those. This meal was prepared 1,600 years ago by digging a hole, lining it with big rocks, burning a hot wood fire on the rock in the pit and let it burn down to coals, a layer of willows or similar wet brush laid on the coals, meat – in this case a bison calf and a dog placed on the brush, another layer of brush on the meat, a thin layer of dirt covered the brush and a hot fire built on top of that. It was normally allowed to cook overnight and by all accounts was tasty and tender in the morning. According to one account, bison calf cooked this way was the best food you ever tasted. In this case nobody got to taste it because the pit was mysteriously never reopened.” Courtesy: Royal Alberta Museum.” This story was first reported by Brenton Driedger, 630 CHED. For the full story go to this link. https://globalnews.ca/news/3179491/royal-alberta-museum-to-crack-open-1600-year-old-roasting-pit-with-meal-still-inside/

As my former colleague Bob Dawe of the Royal Alberta Museum pointed out when excavating this feature:

“I have a dog, and I’m sure my dog would be unhappy to hear that I’m digging up one of his ancestors….A lot of dog-lovers are a little concerned that a dog was part of the meal, and as a dog lover myself I find that a little bit bothersome, but people have been using dogs as food in the Americas for 10,000 years and they still use dogs as food all over the world.” (Bob Dawe, Royal Alberta Museum)

One would think then that after 13,000 years there should be a number of Canadian Indigenous dog breeds remaining? Currently the Canadian Kennel Club recognizes only a few ‘Canadian’ dog breeds: 1)Tahltan bear dog; 2) Canadian Inuit dog; 3) Nova Scotia duck-tolling retriever; 4) Newfoundland dog; and, 5) Labrador retriever. You can find more information about these dog breeds at this link: (https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/dog).

Only the first two breeds may be ancient, belonging to Indigenous Peoples. I’ll touch upon a few of them and then discuss Canadian Indigenous dog breeds and strains that no longer exist, and ones that emerged during the fur trade in central and western North America.

Tahltan Hunting Dogs

Among the Tahltan People of British Columbia, Canada the bear dog was an important hunting companion. In 1915, ethnographer Jame Teit pointed out they were: “…as indispensable to the Tahltan as snowshoes.”

According to Tahltan elder John Carlick :

“If you had a bear dog you could find game. If you didn’t have a bear dog, you starved.”

The historic bear dog of the Tahltan People of British Columbia, Canada, commemorated on a Canadian stamp in 1988. The dog was small, feisty, intelligent and incredibly brave and used to primarily hunt bears but also other larger game. (Courtesy Canadian Encyclopedia, https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/tahltan-bear-dog#)

Although the history is somewhat murky, this breed probably went extinct sometime in the late 1970s or 80s.

For more information about this breed go to this page: https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/tahltan-bear-dog

The Salish Woolly Dog – a Source of Clothing

According to explorer Captain George Vancouver, when arriving on Canada’s west coast in 1792, Coastal Salish People kept Pomeranian-like dogs:

“They were all shorn as close to the skin as sheep are in England; and so compact were their fleeces, that large portions could be lifted up by a corner without causing any separation….very fine long hair [was] capable of being spun into yarn…This gave me reason to believe their woolen clothing might in part be composed of this [dog] material mixed with a finer kind of wool from some other animal …”

Central Coast Salish People weaving blankets from the wool of a little white ‘spitz-like’ dog kept specifically for that purpose. Painting by Paul Kane, 1856.
Excavations of buried house sites in the 1970s at the Makah village of Ozette on the westernmost point of today’s Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, uncovered evidence of weaving including a perfectly preserved blanket. Examination under a scanning electron microscope, revealed that dog hair was part of the weave. (Photo courtesy of the Burke Museum)

However the relationship between their blankets and their dogs was much more personal for the Salish People. Chief Janice George, who resurrected weaving among the Squamish Nation, writes:

“You should think about blankets as merged objects….They are alive because they exist in the spirit world. They are the animal. They are part of the hunter; they are part of the weaver; they are part of the wearer.”

Unfortunately this dog breed continually declined throughout the 19th century. By c.1900 it too was extinct.

For more information on the Salish Woolly dog go to: https://www.historylink.org/File/11243. Or this link: https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/woolly-dog-blankets-coast-salish

Inuit Dogs for Hunting and Pulling

Among the Inuit People, dogs were not only used for travel and hauling goods, they were also important for hunting, especially the dangerous polar bear. The Inuit hunted the large bear with long spears/lances while the dogs constantly harassed the bear to distract it.


‘Traditional Polar Bear Hunt’ by Andrew Qappik, RCA – Inuit Art – Pangnirtung 2011, presented by DaVic Gallery of Native Canadian Arts. https://nativecanadianarts.com/gallery/traditional-polar-bear-hunt/

I recently found this informative article by Thom “Swanny” Swan entitled, “Sled Dogs of the Early Canadian Fur Trade.” (http://oldschoolak.blogspot.com/2018/07/sled-dogs-of-early-canadian-fur-trade.html). In it he quotes missionary Egerton R. Young’s description of the Canadian Inuit Dog: “The pure Eskimo dog is not devoid of beauty.  His compact body, well furred; his sharp-pointed, alert-looking ears; his fox-like muzzle; his good legs and firm, hard feet; his busy tail, of which he often seems so proud; and his bright, roguish eyes, place him in no mean position among the other dogs of the world.  His colour varies from the purest white to jet black.  I owned two so absolutely white that not a coloured hair could be found on either of them….  The working weight of my Eskimo dogs ranged from sixty to a hundred and thirty pounds.  It seemed rather remarkable that some of the lighter dogs were quite equal in drawing power to others that were very much larger and heavier.” (From Young, E., 1902. My Dogs in the Northland. Fleming H. Revell Company; New York, Chicago, Toronto.)

Painting of ‘Eskimo’ (Inuit) dog by Edwin Tappan Adney, published in 1900. From: “Sled Dogs of the Early Canadian Fur Trade” by Thom “Swanny” Swan. http://oldschoolak.blogspot.com/2018/07/sled-dogs-of-early-canadian-fur-trade.html

In 1749, Peter Kalm also described Inuit dogs in Labrador: “For many centuries past they have had dogs whose ears are erected, and never hang down.  They make use of them for hunting, and instead of horses in winter, for drawing their goods on the ice.  They themselves sometimes ride in sledges drawn by dogs.  They have no other domestic animal.” (From Kalm, P., 1772. Travels Into North America: John R, Forster, translator: Volume II: T. Lowdes, London.)

Among many western Plains Indigenous Peoples, dogs carried goods on their backs or pulled goods packed on travois. Even with the advent of the horse, dogs remained important among many Indigenous cultures, especially in northern environs where horses often struggled in the wintertime. But what kind of dogs were they? What did they look like and where did they come from?

This historic photograph taken near Fort Walsh, Saskatchewan, Canada sometime between 1878 – 1882, depicts First Nations People using both horse- and dog-drawn travois (foreground) in the summer months. (Courtesy of the Glenbow Archives, NA-354-24)

Other Canadian Dogs No Longer With Us

Hare ‘Indian’ Dog

Patricia McCormack argues that the domestic dogs among the western Mackenzie Delta Dene were nothing like the later breeds used during the fur trade specifically for hauling large loads. Or like the Arctic pulling dogs. They were built for carrying, not pulling: “…there were probably few or no sled dogs before Europeans arrived in the Subarctic.” (From McCormack 2020:107).

Historic descriptions of Indigenous dogs of the Subarctic do not resemble later dogs in the fur trade, or the Arctic Inuit dogs. These dogs were of, “…various sizes and colours, but all of the fox and wolf breed, with sharp noses, full brushy tails, and sharp ears standing erect…” (Samuel Hearne, 1770s describing Chipewyan dogs. From Hearne, 1958).

According to John Richardson, traveling among the Dene in 1829:

The Hare Indian Dog has a mild countenance, with, at times, an expression of demureness. It has a small head, slender muzzle; erect, thickish ears; somewhat oblique eyes; rather slender legs, and broad hairy foot, with a bushy tail, which it usually carries curled over its right hip. It is covered with long hair, particularly about the shoulder, and at the roots of the hair, both on the body and tail, there is thick wool.” (Dr. John Richardson, 1829. In Fauna Boreali-Americana; or the Zoology of the Northern Parts of British America. London: John Murray)

Richardson provides considerably more detail on the breed, but fortunately also provides us with a detailed drawing what it looked like.

Hare Indian Dog sketched by Dr. John Richardson, 1829.

Patricia McCormack thinks: “The Hare Indian Dog may have resembled a small Siberian Husky or very small Alaskan Malamute.” Richardson stated this dog was used primarily for hunting, “…being too small to be useful as a beast of burthen or draught.” (Richardson 1829).

North American Dog

The North American Dog is more associated with northern Plains Indigenous Peoples and Peoples living in the southern parts of the Subarctic. According to McCormack, the size of this dog was somewhere between the Inuit dogs and Hare Indian dogs. It was not as strong as the Inuit dog and less affectionate than the Hare Indian dogs.

Image of a Blackfoot dog, similar to the North American Dog, pulling a travois. “The fur of the North American Dog is similar to that of the Esquimaux breed and of the wolves. The prevailing colours are black and gray, mixed with white. Some of them are entirely black. Their thick woolly coat forms an admirable protection against the cold.” (From https://images.library.amnh.org/digital/items/show/25587)
Image of an Arikara dog, c. 1880s. (Courtesy of North American Indian Photograph Collection. MS 35)

McCormack thinks by fur trade times this type of dog (perhaps later interbred with heavier European breeds) eventually pulled sleds, carried loads and occasionally was eaten by French Canadian Voyageurs and First Nations Peoples. Northern Indigenous Peoples only started using sled dogs in the 19th century. For example, according to George Franklin, the Dog Rib People of the Mackenzie River District started using dogs to pull sleds between 1824 and 1826.

For more information on the Mackenzie River Basin dogs, read McCormack’s excellent chapter entitled, “An Ethnohistory of dogs in the Mackenzie Basin (Western Subarctic).” In Dogs in the North, Stories of Cooperation and Co-Domestication. Routledge.

Dogs in the Fur Trade

I had one other question (aside from what they looked like and where they came from) about the fur trade dogs pulling sleds. Where did the fur traders learn to use dogs to carry or pull sleds? If dogs teams pulling sleds in the fur trade didn’t originate among western Indigenous Peoples living on the Canadian Plains and Subarctic, then where did the practice come from? From the research Thom Swan conducted, French Canadians used dog teams to pull sleds as early as the late 1600s.

This historic image reveals a lot about winter conditions and travel in the Canadian West. For many months of the year the canoe, which was instrumental in traveling to the Canadian northwest, was not always the way to go. Nor were horses. Dogs, especially during the wintertime, became a very important form of transportation. (Courtesy of the Glenbow Archives, NA-1185-13)

For example, in 1688-89 LaHontan observed sleds “drawn by great dogs” in Quebec. By the 18th century sled dogs became even more important in French Canada. According to Peter Kalm in 1749:   “In winter it is customary in Canada, for travellers to put dogs before little sledges, made on purpose to hold their cloathes, provisions, &c.  Poor people commonly employ them on their winter-journies, and go on foot themselves.  Almost all the wood, which the poorer people in this country fetch out of the woods in winter, is carried by dogs, which have therefore got the name of horses of the poor people.  They commonly place a pair of dogs before each load of wood.  I have, likewise seen some neat little sledges, for ladies to ride in, in winter; they are drawn by a pair of dogs, and go faster on a good road, than one would think.  A middle-sized dog is sufficient to draw a single person, when the roads are good.” (From Kalm, P., 1772. Travels Into North America: John R, Forster, translator: Volume II: T. Lowdes, London.)

Many French Canadians came west with the fur trade in the late 18th century possibly bringing with them the practice of dog sledding. This however begs the question. Where did they pick up the practice since it certainly didn’t originate in Europe? According to some authorities, they learned of it from the Inuit People who had more actively practiced it for centuries. In fact as Kalm’s earlier quote suggests French Canadians adopted it from Inuit People in Labrador.

It was from these Indigenous dog strains, especially the North American dog eventually mixed with European breeds to make them bigger and stronger, that the fur trade dog emerged. Loads became bigger, requiring larger, stronger and more dogs. Winter on the Canadian prairies and northern boreal forests were harsh. Horses were not as tough, tractable or as fast as a good dog team. And special provisions (hay and shelter) were required for them to survive during the severe Canadian winters.

There are numerous quotes and images about dogs in the fur trade. Some of the most insightful and humorous ones come from people visiting the 19th century Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Edmonton, in central Alberta, Canada. Fort Edmonton had one of the largest dog populations in the West. It was one of the few forts I know of that had separate dog kennels and even a dog handler or keeper. As some of the following statements suggest, both good and bad things came from this ‘cozy’ arrangement.

For example, in 1862 Alexander Fortune commented on the importance of the Edmonton dogs: “In the Fort were some six hundred dogs belonging to the Company or their employees. Dogs were used on toboggans by the Company and in case of failure of buffalo meat, dogs were used for food. They were held in great esteem there. In fact they were often used in place of horses, taking in provisions from the plains, when the snow was too crusted or unfit for horses to travel. Such howling and barking as these dogs indulged in was terrifying and disagreeable.” (From: Fortune, A. L., The Overland Trip from Ontario to Edmonton 1862. University of British Columbia, Special Collections and University Archives.)

Further north along the Peace River, at Fort St. John’s in 1822, the one horse the HBC owned languished in the barn most of the winter while dog teams hauled back thousands of pounds of meat to feed the fort population. “They are a long way off, this man has been six days coming….A long way to go for meat….when living themselves and their dogs for so long time on their way.” (December 24th, 1822, HBC Fort St. John’s Journals)

The Earl of Southesk, while visiting Fort Edmonton, also mentioned the large pack of fort dogs. His description suggests that the fort strains were large, resembling wolves:

“There are more dogs here than any other place I know. They are mostly of the Indian kind, large, and long-legged, and wolfish, with sharp muzzles, pricked ears, and thick, straight, wiry hair….Most of them are very wolfish in appearance, many being half or partly, or all but entirely wolves in blood….” (From: Southesk, J. C., 1875. Saskatchewan and Rocky Mountains: A Diary and Narrative of Travel, Sport, and Adventure, During a Journey Through the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Territories in 1859 and 1860. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas)

Southesk continues to describe how important a dog team was for hauling goods:

“In winter these dogs draw sleighs and do nearly all of the work of the country….they are highly valued by their owners, and a team of fine, good, well-trained dogs will bring a handsome price, especially when the winter snows begin to come on.” (Early of Southesk, 1859)

In fact, according to missionary John McDougall, despite the constant howling and fighting among the dogs at Fort Edmonton, all the men could think about was their dogs: “The sole topic of conversation would be dogs. The speed and strength and endurance of a dogtrain occupied the thoughts of most men, either sleeping or waking.” (From: McDougall, J., 1971. Parsons on the Plains. Don Mills: Longman Canada Ltd.)

In the fur trade the dogs’ main purpose was to move goods, people and information from one place to another. Messages, letters and other types of information were carried by dog teams to the various western forts. Paul Kane describes these trains and the manner of sledding: “Two men go before [the lead dog] on the run in snowshoes to beat a track, which the dogs instinctively follow: these men are relieved every two hours, as it is very laborious.…We had three carioles and six sledges, with four dogs to each, forming when en route a long and picturesque cavalcade.” Painting by Paul Kane, 1848, of a wedding party leaving Fort Edmonton.
A dog team in front of the Big House, HBC Fort Edmonton, December, 1871. A good team of dogs was indispensable in the winter time. These dogs resemble more the North American dog than the Inuit dogs (Photograph by Charles Horetzky, Library and Archives of Canada, c-7474.)
A depiction of the HBC’s Fort Edmonton, c.1865, showing the dog kennels located in the southwest corner of the fort. According to a number of informants, if the constant barking and howling wasn’t enough to drive you mad, the stench exuding from keeping over 100 dogs in the forts was certainly the last straw. While the later fort had an enclosed area for the dogs, Alexander Ross visiting Fort Edmonton in 1823, seems to imply the entire fort acted as a ‘kennel’: “…the wife might go without her blanket; but the husband must have his dogs, and the dogs their ribbons and their bells!…The custom, however reprehensible in this point of view, is equally so in others; for the nuisance of their presence in a fort is beyond endurance; they are the terror of every woman and child after dark. Nor can a stranger step from one door to another without being interrupted by them; and, worst of all, the place is kept like a kennel; in wet weather the horrid stench is intolerable.” (Journal of Alexander Ross, 1855, Fur Hunters of the Canadian West: A Narrative of Adventures in Oregon and Rocky Mountains.)

A good team of dogs became a source of pride and prestige in fur trade society. Even by the 1820s in the Peace River Country, fort employees while traveling, preferred starvation over eating their precious dog team: “Two men arrived from New Caledonia on the 15th they were 21 days coming starved very much reduced to eating shoes and even a pair of leather Trousers one of them had.” (February 6th, 1823, HBC Fort St. John’s Journals)

And eventually these mushers began racing their dogs to see who had the fastest team. In the 1870s Metis, Peter Erasmus, describes preparations for dog races below Fort Edmonton on the frozen North Saskatchewan River. They attracted some of the best dog ‘mushers’ in the Canadian West: “The preparations the week before Christmas took on a new tempo of activity. Every dog driver and team were rushing supplies of fish to the fort for the dog trains of the expected visitors….The two days before Christmas was a bedlam of noise as each new dog team arrived. Every arrival was a signal for all the dogs of the fort and those of the Crees camped nearby to raise their voices in a deafening uproar of welcome or defiance as their tempers dictated…” (From: Erasmus, P., 1976. Buffalo Days and Nights. Calgary: Glenbow-Alberta Institute.)

Painting of dog teams meeting by Frederick Remington. Remington painted northern scenes (some as far north as Lac La Biche, Alberta, Canada) during the 19th century. (Courtesy Glenbow Archives, NA-1185-10)

The Dog’s New Role in the Fur Trade – Speed and Endurance

As the fur trade spread across northwestern Canada, not only were dogs indispensable for hauling goods on sleds, often surpassing horses, they took on a new role – that of quickly moving mail to the many fur trade posts scattered over a territory covering thousands of miles. Not only were tough dogs needed, now speed and endurance became important.

Already in the 1820s travel and communications between the northern Peace River Posts was important. In 1822 Hugh Faries, in charge of Fort St. John’s (near the present-day Fort St. John’s, British Columbia, Canada), together with four other men traveled downriver to Dunvegan in two days. The distance between the two forts is approximately 125km (~76 miles) along the river. The dog teams and their men traveled about 63km (38 miles) a day.

What I find remarkable about these and other stories I’ve read, is not only the strength and fitness of the dogs, but also the fitness of the mushers. In deep snow they broke trail for the dogs or ran beside the sleighs instead of riding on the back. They wore many thin layers of clothing that breathed well in freezing temperatures, so as not to capture the moisture off their bodies and freeze on the clothing. The wool capote became a very necessary article for travel.

According to Metis, Norbert Welsh, on the Canadian prairies the sled dogs were not ‘Eskimo’ dogs, but very strong:

“I had my dogs well harnessed, plenty of bells on them and ribbons flying all over. These dogs were of common breed—we could not get Eskimo dogs—but they were strong. Each dog could pull four hundred pounds and race with it. I had a young Indian driving one team. We went very fast over the plains. Sometimes we would ride on the sleigh, and sometimes we would run beside or behind it.” (Compiled by Lawrence Barkwell, Louis Riel Institute. Quote from Mary Weekes, 1994. The Last Buffalo Hunter (Account of Norbert Welsh), Calgary: Fifth House)

In an article Rupert Leslie Taylor (MHS Transactions, Series 3, Number 27, 1970-71 Season), entitled “The Winter Packet“, describes the importance of the dog teams to move the mail quickly between posts. (http://www.mhs.mb.ca/docs/transactions/3/winterpacket.shtml)

This mail service was known as the ‘Winter Packet’. The ‘packet’ was a heavy leather case used to transport mail, reports and orders to and from Rupert’s Land to the Governor and Council in London, England. Dogs now took on a new role in the Canadian West – Movers of Information.

According to J. J. Hargrave: “The starting of the Northern Packet from Red River is one of the great annual events of the Colony. It occurs generally about 10th December, when the ice having been thoroughly formed and the snow fallen, winter travelling is easy and uninterrupted. The packet arrangements are such that every post in the Northern Department is communicated with through its agency. The means of transit are sledges and snowshoes. The sledges are drawn by magnificent dogs, of which there are three or four to each vehicle, whose neatly fitting harness, though gaudy in appearance, is simple in design and perfectly adapted to its purposes, while the little bells attached thereto, bright looking and clearly ringing, cheer the flagging spirits of men and animals through the long run of a winter day.” (From J. J. Hargrave, 1871. Red River)

In 1878, N. M. W. J. McKenzie, a former servant of the Company, wrote:

“The greatest of all trips was the winter mail packet from Montreal to the mouth of the Mackenzie river in the Arctic Ocean, by dogs. The packet had to go through on time at all cost….Three men and two dog trains generally ran it through, the extra man always ahead on snowshoes when the snow was either too deep or too soft for the dogs to make time.

This was the trip that proved who the best man and best dogs were for that winter, and their fame would be all over the country before next winter.” (From N. M. W. J. McKenzie, 1921. The Men of the Hudson’s Bay Company, 1670-1920. Ft. William : [Times-Journal Presses.)

AND YOU THOUGHT CANADA POST WAS SLOW!

The mail must go through. Dog teams carrying mail between fur trade posts.
(Courtesy of Provincial Archives of Manitoba, William Rackham.  N21206.)

Dogs Continue into the 20th Century

The role of dogs, as a primary mode of travel, steadily declined during the 20th century. But in many parts of the Canadian North, with no roads or rails, they continued to be important. Especially in the winter.

At the turn of the 20th century, other private entrepreneurs set up trading businesses in northern Alberta and the Northwest Territories to compete with the Hudson’s Bay Company. One of those men was Edward Barry Nagle. In 1887 he joined James Hislop to develop the Hislop and Nagle fur trading company along the Athabasca River and Mackenzie River. For more about this man and his exploits, read: The Prospector: North of Sixty (biography), Lone Pine Publishing (Edmonton, Alberta, Canada), 1989, by Jordan Zinovich.

Ed was an avid dog lover and had some incredible dog teams. Fortunately for us, he left behind a large collection of photographs of his dog teams from that time period. A few are worth publishing here for what they reveal about the breeds and their use.

Ed Nagle and his water spaniel. Date unknown. Exotic dog breeds were brought into the Canadian Northwest, and either accidentally or deliberating breeding with local Indigenous dog populations. (Courtesy Glenbow Archives, PA-3760-109)
Title: Ed Nagle, seated in sleigh; dog team driver, Mr. Dussel, standing. Annotated: ‘Mackenzie River huskies bred by Ed Nagle. (Courtesy Glenbow Archives, PA-3760-59)
Dog teams leaving Hislop and Nagle Company post, Fort Resolution, Northwest Territories. These dogs resemble more the Canadian dogs than the northern Inuit dogs. (Courtesy Glenbow Archives, PA-3760-60)
Arrival of first airplane in Aklavik, Northwest Territories. Date unknown. The Canadian North was virtually inaccessible, but the airplane soon helped change that. But on land, as this photograph shows, the dog teams were ready to move the goods to the settlement. New and old technologies meet. (Courtesy Glenbow Archives, NA-1258-73)
With the introduction of new economies, pulling sled dogs became pulling plow dogs in the north. This is one of the unusual photographs of a dog team pulling a plow at Fort Rae that I have ever run across. (Courtesy Glenbow Archives, NA-4552-8)

Dog Paraphernalia and Sleds

Dog paraphernalia began to appear with the introduction and development of dog teams in the fur trade. And continued into the 20th century. Many of you probably haven’t heard of ‘standing irons’, or ‘tuppies’ – decorated iron rods and fancy blankets decorated with bright colored ribbons and cloth. Sleigh bells were also attached around the dog’s neck, irons, or tuppies. Often before the team arrived at the fort the dogs were decked out in their best attire: “Three days later our dogs, bearing the smartest of dog cloths and with sleigh bells ringing merrily, rattled into Edmonton….” (From Warburton Pike 1892. The Barren Ground of Northern Canada. New York: Macmillan & Co.)

Metis dog harness, c.1880 – 1890. Courtesy of: Saskatchewan, History, population, news, stories and events of La Loche and the North-West, “Metis and Dene dog blankets and bells.” (http://portagelaloche.blogspot.com/2012/02/metis-dog-blankets.html)
The Dene and Metis took dog paraphernalia to a different level using elaborate tufted and beaded floral motifs on their dog tuppies (which originated from the word, Tapis, meaning a tapestry or richly decorated cloth, used as a hanging or a covering). This Dene dog blanket dates between 1878 – 1900. (Courtesy of: Saskatchewan, History, population, news, stories and events of La Loche and the North-West, “Metis and Dene dog blankets and bells.”) (http://portagelaloche.blogspot.com/2012/02/metis-dog-blankets.html)

“…all the dogs gaudily decorated with saddle-cloths of various colors, fringed and embroidered in the most fantastic manner, with innumerable small bells and feathers…Our carioles were also handsomely decorated…” (Paul Kane, 1967. Wanderings of an Artist Among the Indians of North America Edmonton: Hurtig, 1967: 270-271)

A painting by Peter Rindisbacher, 1820s, Red River area, showing a dog team decked out in their tuppies, bells, and standing irons.
This dog team, belonging to Ed Nagle, along the North Saskatchewan River, just below Fort Edmonton, wearing their tuppies, bells and feathers. The fur trade dog teams became more than carrying goods and services. A man with a good dog team was rich in many ways. (Courtesy Provincial Archives of Alberta, B5707)

In many of the above historic images you see two types of dog sleds: 1) the open sled, resembling a toboggan; and, 2) the carriole, often ornately decorated. According to Danelle Cloutier: “The term “carriole” was first used to refer to horse-drawn sleighs, especially the lightweight open sleighs used in French Canada. Throughout the fur trade era, the term described toboggan-style sleds with sides made from hide or canvas and birch boards for planking.” (From Danelle Cloutier, 2016. Canada’s History: https://www.canadashistory.ca/explore/transportation/hbc-carriole

These two images (only partial of the original) by painter Peter Rindisbacher of the buffalo hunt (left) and of a gentleman traveling in a dog carriole (right). These were the two primary types of sleds that dog teams pulled in the fur trade. There are numerous references in the fur trade journals of the men cutting birch to make sleds as winter approached.
Preparing for the journey between Fort Garry and Norway House, Manitoba, Canada. The carriole has Norway written on it probably signifying Norway House, Manitoba. The distance between Fort Garry and Norway House was about 433Km (262.4 miles) which some teams covered in about nine days mostly over the frozen waters of lake Winnipeg. Which comes to about 48km (29 miles) per day. (Courtesy of Archives of Manitoba)
For the most part both dog teams, sleds, nor their mushers were ornately decorated when carrying out the more mundane, everyday tasks in the winter. In many northern regions, larger, stronger dogs were bred to haul larger, heavier loads. (Courtesy Glenbow Archives, NA-4433-15)

The Fur Trade Archaeological Evidence

Artifacts

When excavating at fur trade sites in western Canada we find few direct traces of dogs in the archaeological record. However, there are exceptions. At the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion I (c.1798 – 1830), and a few other fur trade posts, we found sleigh bells similar to those shown in historic paintings and photographs used for dog teams. And we found thousands of small glass colored seed beads at those forts. Some of these beads were likely used to adorn those tuppies.

This silver sleigh bell was uncovered in an old abandoned cellar at the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion I (c/1798 – 1830) site.
Glass trade beads called ‘seed’ beads came in a variety of colors. These beads are either from a horse blanket or tuppie. They were recovered from the HBC Fort Victoria (c.1864 -1898), a small outpost approximately 100km downriver from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.

Animal Bones

I’ve also examined faunal remains recovered from the various fur trade forts in Alberta. In almost every fort faunal assemblage we identified canid bones mixed in with other wild game animal bones. The problem we have is distinguishing between wolf and domestic dog from just the skeletal remains.

In the Table below I simply lumped the bones into Canid, which could be either dog or wolf. Canid remains make up between one and three percent of all the animal bones we find. Also the Table shows: 1) Northern Alberta forts have a higher percentage of canid remains than the Central Alberta forts; and, 2) Early Period (c.1780s – 1830) forts have a higher percentage of canid remains than later period forts.

Fur Trade PostsCanid NISPTotal NISP% Canid
Northern Posts24979243.1
Central Posts15592231.0
Early Posts313117582.7
Late Posts8561381.4
HBC Fort Edmonton2711152.4
HBC Fort Victoria186103.0
Percentages were calculated by dividing Canid NISP (number of identifiable specimens) by Total NISP (number of identifiable specimens). Canid could be either dog or wolf. The two are very difficult to identify positively from faunal remains. Given the context however, most of the specimens are likely domestic dog. The reasons for the differences in these percentages is more difficult to determine without more carefully examining their context and the bones (which currently I was unable to do). More dog remains in the archaeological record might simply reflect more dogs at the posts or they reflect greater selection of dogs, for example, for eating.

While some of these bones may represent the natural deaths of dogs living at the posts, others invariably ended up in the fort cooking pots when times got tough and other food was in short supply:

“The men all hunting and fishing, but very unlucky….We are now in a very alarming situation, not having a mouthful to eat.  The children are always going about the fort crying for something to eat.” (Journal entries, NWC Fort Dunvegan, northern Alberta, Canada, 1806)

Also, along the North Saskatchewan River, 1859 was particularly tough according to William Gladstone, visiting Fort Edmonton:

“…the men sent by the Boss to the plains came back empty-handed. For two weeks we starved and then a lot of us bought a couple of dogs from the Stoney Indians and killed them. Dog meat is not bad as any one can tell you who has eaten sausages.” (From William Gladstone, 1985. The Gladstone Diary. Travels in the Early West. Lethbridge: Historic Trails Society of Alberta)

Looking Ahead

Both the historic records and the archaeological remains are informative about the presence and importance of dogs for both Indigenous and Euro-Canadians. But they leave a lot to be desired. We still can’t answer some basic questions about dogs in the fur trade, or earlier, even though we have considerable numbers of bones to work with (but unfortunately not at prehistoric archaeological sites). We can’t even accurately identify these remains to genus level (i.e., wolf or dog).

This somewhat frustrating state of affairs led me recently to contact one of the foremost experts on prehistoric domesticated dogs, Dr. Robert J. Losey, University of Alberta. I asked Dr. Losey whether DNA samples taken from those bones might be more informative than what we had discovered about dogs so far. Here’s his response:

“Study of the nuclear DNA of these canids would definitely identify them as dogs, wolves, or coyotes, and even provide evidence for hybrids or earlier introgressions between the three species. If the right portions of the genome are targeted, such studies could also reveal details about coat color, body size, and even adaptation to starch-rich diets. In a few cases, DNA studies are now even focusing on the microbiomes of ancient dogs, revealing how their digestive systems are adapting to human food environments.”

So, in the future by applying DNA research to the fur trade canid remains, we may be able to answer some basic questions about them that we currently can’t:

  • more accurately determining whether they are dog, wolf, or coyote;
  • whether the dogs got bigger over time as the historic records suggest;
  • what regional and temporal differences existed among the dog breeds;
  • the rate that European breeds were being introduced into the local strains.

I’m confident that with these advanced techniques the next decade will bring answers to some of these questions.

Our Vanishing Canadian Dog Breeds

We have already lost a number of Canadian dogs breeds: 1) the Salish woolly dog; 2) Tahltan hunting dog; 2) Hare Indian dog; 3) North American dog. There likely were others over the last 14,000 years or longer that have left no record. And they were lost for various reasons – changing economies and technology, disease, and interbreeding, to name a few.

As Thom Swan points out, the Canadian Inuit dog only survives because of efforts of a few determined people to save it: “The breed might have gone extinct if not for the efforts of the Eskimo Dog Research Foundation created by William Carpenter and John McGrath. The foundation purchased dogs from remote Inuit camps and began breeding them to increase their numbers.”

Swan has also has tried to replicate the now extinct North American dog from the historic descriptions. His two dogs, Orion and Capella, are examples of the North American dogs used by northern Indigenous peoples; perhaps for centuries.

The photograph on the left is a pure ‘Indian’ sled dog in 1898 and Thom Swan’s sled dogs, on the right, closely resembling the Indian sled dog. (Courtesy of Thom Swan. “Sled Dogs of the Early Canadian Fur Trade” (http://oldschoolak.blogspot.com/2018/07/sled-dogs-of-early-canadian-fur-trade.html)

I am one of the thirty-two percent of Canadian households who owns at least one dog. I’m a spaniel guy and love the breed for both their hunting abilities and companionship. In Canada over the centuries the domestic dog served many purposes for many people. And came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. But we all probably shared one common thing with our dogs – their constant, devoted companionship.

“When the Man waked up he said, ‘What is Wild Dog doing here?’ And the Woman said, ‘His name is not Wild Dog any more, but the First Friend, because he will be our friend for always and always and always.’” — Rudyard Kipling

Our English Springer Spaniels at Blackgold Kennels, 2014. From front to back: Laser (deceased), Keagan (deceased), Ceili (deceased), and Pepsi.
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Here’s A Truly Canadian Gem – The CKUA Radio Network, Alberta, Canada

Some of the best kept secrets are often hidden under our very noses. I didn’t start listening to this wonderful radio station until the late 1990s. Why not earlier? I couldn’t say. I’m just glad that I finally started to listen. CKUA is one of the most unusual and renowned radio stations in the world. (Image courtesy of CKUA: https://www.liveradioplayer.com/ckua-radio-network/)

Like many of you I love music. I used to play it but now I just enjoy listening to a whole range of musical genres – Country, Rock, Jazz, Blues, Folk, and just about everything in between. But, where on earth does one find such a range of music without spending a small fortune buying it?

Early control room at CKUA. The station first started at the University of Alberta and then moved downtown to Jasper Avenue in Edmonton. (Image courtesy of CKUA: http://www.verdifestivaledmonton.ca/ckuaradionetwork.html)

The answer – tune into the CKUA Radio Network, right here in Alberta, Canada. This is truly a Canadian story. I’m certain many of you from Alberta have already heard about this great radio station. As a matter of fact CKUA is so renowned in Alberta, we even dedicated a display to it in our new Royal Alberta Museum here in Edmonton.

However, there are many people out there who have not heard about this powerful little radio station. So, I’m going to act as the messenger through this website to give Canada’s first public broadcaster (yes, you read right, ‘first public broadcaster’) a plug.

This post will be short and sweet. For more information about CKUA, and how you can tune in, wherever you are in the world, go to their website: https://ckua.com/. Once there you will find more information about the station, its history, hosts, upcoming events, and record library (one of the best in Canada, if not the world).

Here are a few highlights about this amazing radio station to get you started.

CKUA’s first announcer, H. P. Brown. (Image courtesy of CKUA: http://www.verdifestivaledmonton.ca/ckuaradionetwork.html

Did You Know:

  • CKUA was the first public broadcaster in Canada, starting at the University of Alberta with a lecture series, in 1927.
  • Before the internet got going you could only tune into the station in certain places in Alberta (and nowhere else in Canada). Eventually the network built fourteen transmitters around the province so that all Albertans could enjoy their broadcasts. And now you can live-stream their broadcasts from anywhere in the world.
  • CKUA is donor-supported relying primarily on money acquired by fund-raising twice a year and from their regular subscribers. Their fundraiser this fall raised over one million dollars in about ten days.
  • CKUA’s music library one of the largest and most diverse in Canada. It contains more than 250,000 CDs and LPs. The collection represents 140 years of recorded music.
  • CKUA has over thirty-five hosts who, as the CKUA website claims, ‘plan and curate their playlists to their tastes, unencumbered by genre, decade or ‘hit’ lists.’ Each host usually comes from some sort of musical background. And folks, they know their stuff. I’ve learned more about music and the history of music by listening to CKUA than from anywhere else. And, you will hear music on this station that you will rarely, if ever, hear anywhere else. Many of CKUA’s hosts are on a first name basis with some familiar names in each music genre. And the personal interviews of musical celebrities by hosts such as Holger Petersen (a host for over 50 years of his Natch’l Blues show) and Terry David Mulligan (Mulligan’s Stew Show), are off the charts.
  • CKUA promotes local Alberta and Canadian talent. They give new Canadian artists a chance to be heard and hone their skills. The list of musicians they promoted is extensive: Jan Arden, K.D. Lang, Robert Goulet, Tommy Banks, Corb Lund, to name a few. (I seem to recall that Robert Goulet grew up in Edmonton and was once a host on the station).
CKUA’s extensive music library. I remember on some of the early fundraisers, volunteers used to run down to the library and pull out requests from donators who called in. A bit of a daunting task, given the size of the collections, and the building. (Image courtesy of CKUA: https://www.flickr.com/photos/mastermaq/16698895761/in/photostream/)

CKUA is ‘Community’ Oriented

Perhaps one of the things that struck me most about the station is the involvement of the community in CKUA, and the involvement of CKUA in the community. That relationship has grown stronger since 1997 when the station shut down but was revived by a new board. Along with their 35 or more hosts, they have over 40 support staff and 500 volunteers. And to date about 12,000 donors, who provide 60 per cent of the radio station’s funding.

And the station supports some pretty awesome music events in Alberta. They often broadcast live at many of the folk festivals in Alberta – the Calgary and Edmonton Folk Festivals, for example, and many more. And bring in renowned musical acts from all over the world. If the JUNO awards are being hosted by an Alberta City, you can be sure CKUA will be there to do some live interviews.

I’ll end with a few personal notes about the radio station. In 1992, I was interviewed by CKUA regarding my work at the HBC Fort Edmonton archaeological site. They support community events. Somewhere in those CKUA library vaults there’s probably a tape of that interview.

In July, 2021 I turned seventy. My wife asked Terry David Mulligan to wish me a happy birthday on his show. Terry had already pre-recorded his show, but despite that he went out of his way to get another host to wish me a happy birthday. Terry didn’t have to do that, but that’s what he’s all about.

Two very popular hosts at CKUA, Terry David Mulligan (Mulligan’s Stew) and Allison Brock (Wide-Cut Country). (Image courtesy of CKUA: https://www.mulliganstew.ca/2021/05/07/mulligan-stew-may-8th-2021-i-million-raised-for-ckua-we-celebrate-with-2-hours-of-music/)

So, for those of you out there who love music and haven’t given this radio station a try, tune in and find out what it’s all about. I’m sure you’ll find something on their eclectic playlist and programs you like. And I guarantee there will be some surprises. I’ve been listening for over twenty years and am still entertained and learning. I hope you will be too.

Jack, Worthington Hagerman, also known as the ‘The ‘Old Disc Jockey’, who is no longer with us, started as a host at CKUA in 1949. Jack left behind an incredible legacy. His shows still air every Sunday on CKUA. For more information on this remarkable man go to: https://ckua.com/read/how-john-worthington-hagerman-became-the-very-essence-of-ckua/. (Image courtesy of CKUA: https://ckua.com/read/how-john-worthington-hagerman-became-the-very-essence-of-ckua/)
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‘WE’ AND THE RACE AGAINST THE SLOW SWIMMERS: A Short Story

Non nobis solum nati sumus.

(Not for ourselves are we born)

Marcus Tullius Cicero

Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, 2021

The grim looking group of scientists sitting around the table listened to renowned Doctor Derrick Smith, a leading authority in his field. “And so, to summarize, the news is not good, ladies and gentlemen. Humanity is in trouble. All the factors I mentioned, along with the increasing numbers of slow swimmers, could jeopardize humankind. And dogs.” The meeting adjourned and the small, assembled group of scientists went back to their respective countries to report to their governments.

………………….

In another part of the hospital, it was not humankind that was in jeopardy. But the life of one man. A dying Jason Parry, just turned thirty-five, lay in his bed trying desperately to breath and focus. A renowned neurosurgeon at the University of Alberta Hospital, Parry, through strained breaths, was having trouble believing what he was hearing.

The masked doctor looked at Parry, marked sorrow in both his eyes and voice. “I’m sorry Dr. Parry, there’s nothing more we can do. This strain of Covid is lethal. C-9.9.9 kills over eighty-five percent of those infected. Of all ages.”

Parry’s wife, Susan, burst into tears. His two young twin sons were running around in stockinged feet, trying to give one another electric shocks. The doctor, shaking his head, left the grieving family alone.

Parry, trying to keep calm, considered his options. Death, it seemed, lurked at the doorstep. Threatening to end his life and eventually over one-quarter of the world’s population. If the Covid virus didn’t render humans extinct, the slow swimmers might.

After considering, Parry finally made his choice.

“O.K., let’s do it. Say goodbye to Jake for me.” At his words, his wife cried more, now joined by his bewildered sons.

Parry had to have faith in the new, highly controversial cryonics technology. His last thoughts were that Jake’s kind might be in trouble too.

Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, 2200

Parry woke, to a dimly lit room, aware of the burning sensation in his body. The anti-freezing fluids were being flushed out of his system, returning it to its normal temperature.

Suddenly, a face, immersed in some sort of bluish halo, loomed over him shining a tiny light into his one eye. “Can you talk, Dr. Parry? Just easy now. Don’t raise your voice. Everything kind of needs to warm up first.”

“Where am I,” croaked Parry. “Am I alive? Who are you? Is this a dream?”

“Easy now, Dr. Parry. All in good time. First we must assess your condition. After all, you’ve been out for a while.”

Parry, confused by this remark, asked, “Haven’t you frozen me yet, Doctor? I thought we were going ahead with the cryonics?”

“Oh, Dr. Parry, you were out for a while – 179 years to be exact. But you’re back now.”

“Oh, God. It must have worked…”

Doctor Goodwin interrupted. “Now, Dr. Parry, just relax. You have a lot to catch up on.” Earlier Goodwin, after consulting with his team of experts, while worried about bringing Parry back to life, worried more about his mental condition. He touched Jason’s left arm with a blunt metal object, and the increasingly anxious Parry immediately was out again.

………………….

Parry felt much better when he woke up the next time. Goodwin was standing nearby.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Parry? Any pain anywhere? Your vitals look good. No problems that we can see.” Goodwin suddenly looked up as if viewing something in the distance. Occasionally nodding his head as if in agreement.

“We’ll start with some basic information.” Goodwin seemed to be looking off into the distance again as if he were examining data on a computer screen.

Parry saw a radiating metal band around Goodwin’s head. Technology to allow him to connect with his computer? Where’s the computer?, wondered Parry. Suddenly a transparent, virtual bluish screen appeared, and Parry saw data on the screen floating in the air. His vitals, he presumed. Parry relaxed, thinking to himself, Take it easy, Jason. This won’t be your first surprise.

“First things first, Dr. Parry. In the next few days, we’ll put you on an exercise program to rejuvenate those muscles. You’ve been rather lazy lately, laying around for 180 years.” Goodwin chuckled at his own joke resulting in a line of little bluish laughing heads appearing on the virtual image.  

Goodwin continued. “First though, I’ll answer any questions you have.”

“Where am I? In Edmonton?” Goodwin only nodded and said nothing, thinking. Close enough. An Edmonton of sorts, Jason Parry.

“Why did you ‘revitalize’ me now?”

“Two reasons, Dr. Parry. First, the advance in cryonics five years ago. In your time it was considered a long shot at best. Dangerous at worst. There was a breakthrough in reconstituting the brain’s neural net.”

“And the other reason, Doctor?”

“Before you were frozen, Dr. Parry, you had the C-9.9.9 variant. It killed millions, before we finally managed to eradicate it.”

“And the problem, Doctor?”

“Your variant mutated while you were under. We didn’t know how to treat it. No one wanted to let the genie out of the bottle. And infect the world with a new strain of Covid. But with recently approved nanotechnology in medicine, we sent in nanobots to kill the variant, before resuscitating you. You’re cured. And, so far there aren’t any runaway bots taking over the world.”

Before Parry could ask any more questions, Goodwin jumped in. “I think, Dr. Parry you need to rest now.

“I agree, Doctor. Perhaps you could arrange some reading for me to start catching up.”

Goodwin chuckled. “Reading, Doctor? You’d be dead by the time you caught up. No, we’ve arranged something better.” He seemed to be looking into space again and suddenly an image of two middle-aged men and one woman appeared in the room. Parry squinted. First amazed at the imagery and technology. Then at the vaguely familiar faces, reminding him of his wife and two boys.

“Dr. Parry, meet some of your direct descendants. I’ll let them tell you how we’re going get you set for your new world.” Goodwin speculated, Well, if this doesn’t put him over the top, nothing will.

Parry stared at them, then broke down crying. Sarah, Graham, and Dallas came closer trying to virtually console him.

…………………

Introduction To A Changing World, 2100

Parry opened his eyes to what seemed more like a dream than reality. Beside him stood his three descendants. Shimmering, not looking quite right either. Sarah talked first. “Hi Gramps. Can I call you Gramps or Jason. Great, Great, Great…. Grandfather seems rather long.”

“I kind of like Gramps. Has an old ring to it. Where are we? Am I sleeping? This doesn’t feel right.”

Dallas answered. “Gramps, this is something called virtual history. You can interact with it and ask anything you like about the year 2100. Eventually, we’ll take you forward to the present.”

“But how am I seeing this? I have no goggles or headgear on.” Then Parry felt the thin band on his head.

“We don’t need those anymore, Gramps. With that headband, this info-site is directly connected to your brain. You will take a virtual tour back to 2100 and we’ll explore some key things that changed in the world since 2021.”

Suddenly there standing before him were now much older versions of his two sons, Eric and Neil.

“This is so extraordinary. I have so many things to ask you.” His sons greeted him warmly as if alive.

“Well, let’s skip the family stuff until later. Let’s first check out the world.” Graham watched carefully. Too much emotion from Parry and he was instructed to end the session immediately.

Eric asked, “Dad, before you left us, what major problem did our world face?”

A confused Parry blurted out, “Climate, energy, disease, pollution, overpopulation, obesity, racial and religious issues, human inequality. It’s a long list, Eric.”

“Think again, Dad. Back then we had the means to fix most of those things but couldn’t because one of them trumped all.” Eric watched the thinking Parry.

“Well, the world’s geopolitical systems were the major thing holding us back. They were broken, unwieldy, corrupt, or misguided by ideological and religious dogma.”

A major map of the world appeared in front of Parry. Over the world floated a large logo, with two green letters, WE. In the background a voice droned on, describing the new world political order. Parry stared, barely able to comprehend what he was watching.

Neil began. “You’re right, Dad. Our politics, whether domestic, international, democratic, dictatorial, and everything in-between, were destroying us. We couldn’t cooperate on anything globally. Leaving our poor world in shambles and continual threats of war. That had to change. In a way, a declining world’s population, helped by the Covid pandemic, unraveled the old system. And so did the slow swimmers, although they could still do us in. World economies were destroyed, and along with them those with the power to manipulate the political system to their own ends. There was rioting, civil war, and totally anarchy the world over. And more died.”

The world map contained only six names. New America; Ant-America; Europa; Africa; Asia; and Oceania. Eric pointed out, “These, Dad, are the new political entities or super-countries if you will. Canada is no longer a sovereign nation but now part of a larger continental entity, New America, under one government. Former countries of these new entities had to unify because of the economic turmoil and population decline. We’re not quite done but making progress. Both New America and Asia is still attempting to revert to older power systems. But the people are forcing change on a scale never seen before.”

“But how does this even work?,” blurted a confused Parry.

Neil chimed in, “First, governments of these Nation continents are formed by the people…”

Parry, now totally fired up, cut in. “Yes, and then corruption sets in and our political leaders are manipulated by capitalist or ideological agendas. Or, someone just downright becomes greedy and takes sole power, passing it down to their children and bleeding off all the wealth, leaving most people powerless with nothing.”

Eric interjected. “You can imagine, Dad, there was major unrest and the most corrupt world leaders were held accountable. They lost the power they once had as the world’s population crashed. Disease deniers were murdered. A new order emerged.”

Neil continued. “The new political order realized that religion and the state must be separated – a former rule that had become more and more blurred in many countries. But also, capitalism and the state needed to be separated. We still have a capitalist system, but it can’t influence or buy the governing body. No more candidates who will get corporations more money and power if elected, with large donations. No more political lobbying and bribery with perks, or threats. No more inserting candidates into political positions because of certain religious beliefs.”

“But, where do the politicians get their money to campaign?”

“The state gives eligible candidates a certain amount of money to run for political positions.”

“What, eligible? Qualify to be a politician? Wouldn’t that disqualify many people from even running? And, what qualifications would you need?” Parry thought he hadn’t heard right.

A list appeared in front of Parry. “There they are, Dad. At least three years of civic political experience, being elected democratically. To really understand humanity and its history, requires courses in anthropology, history and sociology. And, if you wish to go on to the world governing level, courses in international relations. By the time you go through all these steps, it eliminates most of the shysters who went into politics for power and self-aggrandizement.”

“Those types can’t use their wealth to influence the political system. They have to play by the rules. We now have more informed politicians who represent New America, based on region and/or population as before. Then, one is chosen from the elected to lead. For only a five year term. There are no political parties.”

Parry shook his head, wondering if such a system could even work? A politician, unhindered by donors, party agendas, working solely to carry out the wishes of the people and the laws and rules of the land, based on sound facts?

Something about world politics, from Eric’s former statement, prompted another question from Parry. “But, wouldn’t these new countries continue to bicker about world issues? Like climate?”

An image appeared, of a large council chamber, capable of seating thousands, similar to the United Nations. In its center sat twelve delegates, two people representing each continent.

“The United Nations was revamped into a new political system that over-arches the six continents. It has the power to deal with global matters and those possibly from outer space. Anything or anyone that threatens the earth, be it pollution, over-population, disease, or outsiders is handled at this political level.”

Eric pointed, “That’s its logo, WE, floating over the earth.”

“Meaning, WE the people, I assume? Instead of ME, as in MYSELF,” asked Parry.

“Partly, Dad. It represents the two cornerstones of new world order policies. WASTE and EFFICIENCY. Dad, your era wasted about 42% of all energy you made for transportation, heating, etc., and one-third of all food produced. We’ve reduced those figures to about 10% each. Eventually we’ll reach zero waste. That alone would make a big difference in harmful emissions and human inequality.”

“Then, I take it EFFICIENCY means better, cleaner energy for homes, manufacturing and transportation?”

“Yes, Dad. And a host of other things as well.”

“Solving our energy crisis, for example, for the benefit of all continents and while not affecting the earth’s environment is among one of the most monumental challenges we’ve ever faced. But, in your day it couldn’t happen. This governing body realizes that success can only come from cooperation. Globally.”

A fascinated Parry watched the session. Shouting broke out between the Australian and Asian delegates. The Australian was speaking loudly. “Your policies on energy are still inefficient. There’s a grey cloud of shit hanging over Asia, yet you’re still reluctant to accept cleaner energy solutions. That will just increase the slow swimmers.”

The Asian delegate, equally angry, shouted back. “We’re trying but are not technologically ready. If you would share more of that new energy information with us, perhaps we could resolve the problem faster. And remember Mr. Osborn from Australia, soon we will be neighbors, so try to be more civil.”

A perplexed looking Aussie, asked, “Neighbors? We’re neighbors already. Too close in fact. When the winds blow right, your big blob of suet covers our continent.”

The Asian delegate shot back, “That’s not what I meant Mr. Osborn. In about two-hundred million years, as the continent of Australia creeps toward us 2.2 inches a year, it will bump up against Asia and we will be very close neighbors.” This got a round of applause and laughter from the assembly.

Even the Australian delegate laughed.

Parry and his sons chuckled at the outbreak. Parry asked, “But how is a final decision enforced?”

“None of the continents has a standing army, Dad. Or major weapons of mass destruction. Only the world authority can amass an army to ensure compliance, if necessary. So far, it hasn’t been necessary. These diplomats and politicians know what a mess the world is in. They realize if they don’t work together for the interests of the planet, all on earth are doomed.”

Later as Parry and his sons sat watching the hockey game, catching up on family matters, Parry, still perplexed about a few other things, casually asked.

“What about race? When I left, racial tensions and intolerance throughout the world were off the charts.”

Neil answered. “Racial and gender equality have improved, and our leaders are better educated and more tolerant to racial issues. That has helped but maybe not be enough. So, as we speak, Dad, the borders between continents are opening. People will be allowed to choose where to live. Up to the point when it might no longer be safe, economical, or endanger cultural diversity.”

Parry couldn’t believe his ears. “What? You can’t do that. We’ll be flooded with humans wanting to live here.”

“And how did your borders work before, Dad? They only caused turmoil, inequality, fear and hate. Remember, this is no longer 2021. We desperately need people. Or, our economies will crash again. Eventually all economies will balance out and people won’t need to flee. If you had a choice and could live comfortably in Columbia, raise a family and make a living, or live in northern Alberta, which would you choose?”

Parry, in defense of northern Alberta, answered, “There’s nothing wrong with northern Alberta. But I see your point. There would be less incentive to move. People were moving before because of warfare, starvation, or suppression.”

“Right,” interjected Eric. That’s been solved for the most part. By opening the borders, we think there will be more inter-racial interactions, intermarriage, and economic equality, improving tolerance. It’s a big gamble. We don’t know what will happen. We may lose our cultural diversity. Or, it might be strengthened. When you go to 2200, you’ll probably have an answer. It could lead to total racial retrenching which might lead to more conflict.”

“Another question. Are we too late in reversing some of the things we’ve done to world climate?”

“Don’t know, Dad. The most efficient energy policies currently available are now fully implemented. Waste of and polluting energy continues to drop. CO2 emissions are down to manageable levels. But is it too late? Our sea levels continue to rise. But, the world hasn’t sunk under the oceans, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’d hoped there would be flying cars by now. Or teleporting,” grumbled Parry.

Eric paused the game and brought up an image of cars traveling down streets. “Not there yet, Dad, but way better than in your day.”

Parry watched the traffic but heard no noise. “What are they running on?”

“Right now, mostly electricity. But the real big breakthrough are the tires.”

“The tires?,” asked Parry.

“Nanotires, Dad. Vehicle travel causes friction on the roads which is converted into electricity. Those tires are recovering about 35% of the energy used in fuel. Someday that technology may be efficient enough to recover enough electricity to power that car.”

Suddenly the game was interrupted by a news flash. There on the streets, what looked like a pack of robotic dogs were chasing someone frantically trying to escape in a vehicle. Eric moaned. “Oh, God. The health hounds again.”

An incredulous Parry looked on. “Health hounds?”

An embarrassed looking Eric simply said. “An experiment, Dad, intended to deal with health issues, gone terribly, terribly wrong.” His son filled a concerned Parry in on the details.

The game resumed. “But our biggest concern Dad, are the increasing slow swimmers.” The sons then told their father about this dilemma as they watched the rest of the game. As usual the Canadians won.

 Back To 2200

Goodwin, standing near Parry, looked off into his own space and data, to see how his patient was doing.

“Welcome back, Dr. Parry. How are you feeling?”

“Surprised, shocked, puzzled, but well enough. So much changed in less than 100 years. Is there more to come?

“Yes, Doctor. Hopefully that session lessens the shock of the present. I have a surprise for you.” Then Dr. Goodwin looked off into his head and checked Parry’s vitals, making sure he was stable.

The door opened and in walked Dallas, Sarah and Graham, in the flesh. An emotional, befuddled Parry, still adjusting to jumping ahead of his children and grandchildren into this future world, gave them a big hug.

Parry finally regained his composure and spoke. “You all look so great. I’m anxious to see this new world and get to know you. I hope I’m ready.”

“We’ll take it slow, Gramps. Brace yourself. Edmonton is different from when you left. First we’ll show you some of the City and then try to put it all into perspective.”

They left Parry’s room and entered a large atrium teeming with plants. It almost looked like they were outside. Sarah caught Parry staring. “We incorporate as much plant life into our public buildings as possible. It’s not just decorative but practical. All building interiors produce oxygen and absorb CO2. The entire building is designed to produce electricity and geothermal heating, give off zero emissions and generates more energy than it uses.”

Parry marveled at the vastly improved energy efficiency as they passed out the building doors. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the streets. They were covered with a mixture of grass and some black glassy-looking material. Wheeled vehicles drove on the latter while other vehicles floated over the former. “Gramps, those glassy-looking surfaces are solar arrays embedded into the road, to produce electricity, for the wheeled vehicles. The nanogenerators in the tires on wheeled vehicles now recover 85% of the car’s expended energy by producing electricity from friction. The cars gliding over the grass, based on electromagnetics or maglev, are fueled by electricity. Our entire rapid transit systems are now all maglev – quieter, faster and more efficient. You can travel from one side of the continent to the other at the speed of sound on the maglev trains.”

Parry, barely paying attention was down on his knees examining the intricate solar arrays embedded in the road. “But the maglev cars don’t produce any friction on the ground, so no electrical recovery?”

“We’re producing electricity from friction caused when a car, train, or plane moves through the air. Our new generation of nanogenerators convert mechanical energy, caused by air friction over their bodies to generate power. We’ll show you more examples of this in a bit.” Sarah towed a reluctant Parry toward a row of vehicles.

Once inside their vehicle, Graham punched in some numbers on the computer console and off they went. No one was driving. As they neared the residential parts of the City, Parry noticed that the structures were barely visible, looking like mounds buried under sod and grass. Only the south-facing facades showed, flowing out into yards. They also looked longer as if several houses were connected.

Parry asked, “Are these residences?”

“They are, Gramps. Mostly buried, with very low profiles to provide insulation and conserve heat in our very frigid winters.”

Parry was impressed. “So, these are just cold climate residences? What about the rest of the more temperate and tropical world? Are houses still usually above ground?”

 “The same principle holds even in the tropics but is reversed. Instead of keeping the cold out you keep the heat out. And conserve electricity required for air-conditioning.”

Their ride finally stopped beside one of the units. “Is this all yours? I thought by now we would have scaled back a little on residential space,” asked a puzzled Parry.

“Welcome home, Gramps.”

“I’ll be living with you? I don’t want to intrude.”

“That’s why this unit is so big, Gramps. It contains our entire extended families. Children, parents, grandparents all live together. It’s divided into private units, but we all interact. We care for our elders at home with help. When we’re away, the elders care for the children. Even if we’re not away, the social interaction is important for both. Many societies of the past used these same organizational principles, but western society mistakenly decided the nuclear family was the way to go.”

 Parry entered the cement encased house, well lit with light tubes, despite being mostly underground. His new family greeted him warmly in anticipation in seeing someone from the past. Stan, an elderly man met him and shook his hand. “Welcome, Gramps, I can’t beat your 214 years even though I’m a spry 130.” They both laughed at the joke.

The next day, before his daily stroll, Parry listened to the news casts on his virtual communications device, powered by the electricity generated by the friction from his shoes and cloths he made when walking. It sounded like the new world political system was still holding up. Then the news turned to the national stage where reports of rising sea levels were causing concerns in coastal communities.

Parry noticed that many fences and other hard surfaces had a strange coating of material on them. “Sarah, what’s that stuff on the fences? I even saw it in the toilet bowl.”

“Those are water motion active transducers. Tiny flexible, transparent electrodes that coat windows, roofs and even toilet bowls, to generate electricity from friction produced by raindrops and any water flow. All the water piping in our homes is coated with it, producing electricity. We even coat our new storm sewers with them to generate electricity for the City.”

“Then our energy and emissions problems are solved, with these technologies?”

“Yes, mostly, but we are still developing more efficient, less intrusive technologies. See that pole with what look like tiny filaments hanging by that house there. Those are tiny protein microwires made from geobacteria, capable of generating electricity from water vapour in the air. They work anywhere, including the driest parts of the world.”

A stunned Parry shook his head. “Do you still make beer, Sarah? I need a few right now to better absorb all this.”

Sarah laughed. “Some things, Gramps, can’t be improved upon. Just like our hockey.” They walked into the nearby neighborhood pub and Parry looked around. He noticed there were no obese people. No health hounds either. He would have to ask Sarah about that.

There were more colored and fewer white people than he was accustomed to. Something he’d noticed in his extended family.

“In the year 2100 orientation, my sons told me that the continental borders had been opened but at the time didn’t how it would affect interracial relations. What happened?”

“It’s ongoing Gramps. Improved but still an issue. There was a great deal more intermarriage when the borders opened. But, parts of the population wanted to maintain racial and cultural diversity. Purely White pods have dwindled significantly, but still exist. The debate continues and governments are reluctant to step in as it impinges too much on individual human rights. Supposed race, mostly defined by skin color, is being redefined. As the lines are blurred, we hope, there is less emphasis on this aspect of our humanity. We’ll see.”

“But aren’t you diluting cultural diversity?”

“Gramps, it’s easier now with a more uniform economic system. Cultures can remain distinctive without prejudice, warfare, ostracization.”

“What about religion?”

Sarah replied. “You can worship whatever God you wish. But, God can’t interfere with politics. And, there are stiff penalties if you attempt to convert others. Our educational system teaches religious and cultural diversity along with science. But, at the end of the day, it’s the individual’s choice which God, if any, they worship.”

As Parry took a sip of his beer, thinking about all the hate and bloodshed race, religion, or simply being different, had created, he turned to the large screen that was streaming the latest news. Sea levels around the world were still rising and affecting coastal populations. He shook his head.

“I take it, Sarah, that we didn’t deal with our CO2 emissions fast enough.”

Sarah shook her head. “No, Gramps. At this rate we figure sea levels will continue to rise for another hundred years before things level out. Your generation may have prevented the next ice age though, even if it’s a long way off.”

A now guilty looking Parry asked, “But you can stop rising sea levels? Surely by now there are technologies to deal with this?”

“Like what, Gramps? How do you stop something so powerful, so enormous? By trying, we may do more damage than good. Like those health hounds.”

Parry had no answer for that. Sarah paused before continuing. “We have covered the remaining global ice packs with protective insulation, slowing down melting. We are desalinizing sea water and pumping it into world’s dried up lakes and aquifers. We could refill them and perhaps even develop more fresh water in some of our driest areas on earth to rejuvenate the land. Some day the Sahara Desert might be green again. That might reduce rising sea levels by half.” Sarah sighed and took a drink, watching the image of water lap up against some of the most beautiful cities in the world.

That evening Parry had dinner with his extended family. He saw no plastic or metal food containers only some sort of, presumably biodegradable, strange material. There was little leftover food. All leftover vegetable matter went into some sort of grinder and came out as a greenish-looking paste. He recalled that 8.8% of greenhouse gases were created by food waste and that rotting organic matter in landfills released deadly methane – twenty-eight times worse than CO2 emissions.

As Parry went to bed that night thinking, despite some of the still looming problems, this was a better world by far than the one he’d left. And finally, WE was defeating the problem of those slow swimmers. It had been a close race. The air pollution, lethal chemicals in plastics and the Covid pandemic, which all contributed to slow swimming human and dog sperm, were contained. For humans, and man’s best friend who shared his toxic environment, fertility levels had begun to rise.

Just before dozing off, Parry mumbled the words of a famous man, that reflected well this new world order and where it was trending.

“Our ability to reach unity in diversity will be the beauty and test of our civilization.”

Mahatma Gandhi

EndNote

Whether you like it, hate it, or fear it, it’s coming. Whether you think it will save the world. Or destroy us all, nanotechnology is upon us. And developing fast.

While this is a story of fiction, a lot of the technologies I write about here are almost a reality. In terms of becoming economically and practically feasible. Imagine a world where your very movements, or your car’s, which creates friction used to make enough electricity to supply our needs. Those nanotires in the story are a reality.

And those slow swimmers? Also a reality and a real concern among countries. Imagine the world’s populations plummeting. That would destroy entire economies. And perhaps even threaten the very survival of our species.

I entered this story in Fix. And so did 1,100 other writers. If you like science fiction and imagining a better world, here’s the link to the top 12 stories. https://grist.org/fix/series/imagine-2200-climate-fiction/

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‘At the Junction of the Bad and Red Deer Rivers.’ Searching for Peter Fidler’s Long Lost Chesterfield House. Have We Finally Found It?

Wooden statue of trader, mapmaker, Peter Fidler, Elk Point, Alberta, Canada. Fidler served at the nearby Hudson’s Bay Company Buckingham House (c.1792-1800), located along the North Saskatchewan River, just southeast of Elk Point. https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3529/3967919062_060d0fee79_z.jpg

Note: This is a revised and condensed version of an article we recently published in the Saskatchewan Archaeological Newsletter Quarterly, May, 2021 edition, regarding our search for the the Chesterfield House fur trade sites in Spring, 2021. Readers are referred to this edition of the Quarterly for a more detailed version of our findings.

Time and the Unknown

Ah, the mystery of the unknown! It’s one of the things that first drew me to history and archaeology. The thrill of discovering new facts, objects or places, lost or abandoned centuries ago. It didn’t matter if they were only minor footnotes in the bigger picture of human history.

One of the most rewarding and challenging experiences in my career was searching for the many lost fur trade posts in western Canada. The remains of some lay hidden in front of our very noses. Others, so remote and covered by nature, it took considerable effort or sensitive equipment to eventually find them. Still others guard their hiding places well, and to this day, elude discovery.

The remains of the last Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Edmonton (c.1830-1915), located on the Alberta legislature grounds. A fort, whose location was known by only a few historians and archaeologists. In a survey, conducted while excavating this fort in the early 1990s, we discovered that over 60% of the public had no idea the original fort was located on the current Alberta legislature grounds in the heart of Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.

This is a story about a search for one of those fur trade post that has eluded us for many years – Chesterfield House. A search that began in the mid-1960s. But for me it began in c.2005 and continues to this day. Because no one has yet found Chesterfield House.

Searching for Canada’s Fur Trade Forts

In an earlier blog I talked about explorer and mapmaker David Thompson. One of the world’s most remarkable geographers and mapmakers. Thompson visited many western fur trade forts and wrote about them or mapped them. Often he left behind clues for us relocate them. Such as the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion I (c1798-1830) site in northern Alberta. (https://canehdianstories.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=1894&action=edit)

In this post I focus on another lesser-known but equally competent trader, surveyor and mapmaker, Peter Fidler of the Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC). And in particular, his brief, and sometimes scary stay in southern Saskatchewan at the confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers where he would build his fort.

In the fall of 1800 Fidler built Chesterfield House for the HBC. Soon after the North West Company (NWC) built alongside the HBC post, followed by the XY Company. Many (including me) have searched for them but, to this day, they have never been found.

The confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Rivers today, near the Saskatchewan-Alberta border, Canada. Somewhere down there on the river flats are the remains of three fur trade forts, over two-hundred years old. Their whereabouts remains a mystery.

Peter Fidler

Born at Bolsover, Derbyshire, England, Peter Fidler (16 August 1769 – 17 December 1822) joined the HBC in 1788. He was trained in surveying and astronomy by Philip Turnor who also trained David Thompson. Fidler became the Company’s chief surveyor and map-maker, much like David Thompson for the NWC.

While acting as trader, explorer, and mapmaker, Fidler also observed and wrote about the Indigenous peoples of the region. He married a Cree woman and learned Native languages to carry out the trade. Occasionally he convinced his Native informants to draw maps of their territories for him. Today these are some of the few surviving Native maps of western Canada (see a former post on the Ki-oo-cus map of southern and central Alberta. (https://canehdianstories.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=266&action=edit). His journeys, largely undertaken in western Canada, covered an estimated 48,000 miles on horseback, foot, canoe and dog team.

Fidler’s superiors admired his toughness and fortitude. For example, while traveling and wintering with the Chipewyan in northern Alberta and the NWT, a near-starving Fidler mentioned what parts of a game animal they ate to stay alive: “We eat everything except the manure.”

Fidler had some incredible adventures as a trader and explorer for the HBC. A few could have ended his life. One of these adventures required constructing a fur trade post on the Western Canadian prairies. He built the fort with the intent of trading with Plains First Nations peoples. After only a few years, Fidler and the other Companies abandoned their forts, barely escaping with their lives.

A map, by Peter Fidler, of the Upper Assiniboine and Swan Lake Regions. Fidler was a very accurate surveyor and cartographer. Not only did he map the lakes, rivers and important land features, he also accurately plotted the locations of the various fur trade post on those maps. This point becomes important later.
Like David Thompson, Peter Fidler used a line-track survey method when mapping the South Saskatchewan River. He would take a compass bearing and then estimate a distance to map that part of the river. This is part of Fidler’s survey of the South Saskatchewan River, up to the confluence of the Red Deer River, superimposed over today’s South Saskatchewan River route. Based on these and other evidence, we assume that Fidler was an accurate surveyor, especially calculating latitude.

Where did the Companies Build?

For many years I heard about the mysterious Chesterfield House(s) and attempts to find them. All searches ended in failure. But why? How could three forts of considerable size, just disappear, without a trace, in the valleys of the Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers? Or perhaps, as some researchers suggested, had those waters already swallowed them up leaving no trace behind?

In 2005, while visiting and hunting in the area, and intrigued with the lost Chesterfield House, I too joined the search.

The South Saskatchewan River Valley near Empress. So beautiful with its wide open prairie expanses and bright blue skies.

As with other similar searches, nothing is ever as simple as it first appears. This quest was no exception. It has taken me since 2005 to finally piece enough evidence together to make the modest claim that I might have a candidate where these fur trade forts were built. And I, like others before me, could be totally wrong.

Let’s start our search with Fidler’s Chesterfield House HBC journals (1800 – 1802). In them he gives only a few but very specific references to the fort’s location.

This photograph was taken from the east looking towards the forks of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers. Fidler’s two references to the fort’s location are pretty specific. At first I thought he might have built on the island you see in this image which is in front (east) of the juncture of the two rivers. But then in the second quote he specifically says they built on the north side of the river(s). The ‘Bad’ River refers to the South Saskatchewan River. But Fidler has some reservations building on this spot: “Crossed the river to north side and looked out for a place to build at. The woods here are few and bad for building with.” (From Alice Johnson 1967:268. Saskatchewan Journals and Correspondence 1795 – 1802. The Hudson’s Bay Record Society, Volume XXVI) So, Fidler either moved to where there was more suitable wood to build with or he cut wood from elsewhere and hauled it to the junction of the two rivers.

Fidler gives the latitude of the south bank of the Red Deer River where he intends to build: 50o, 55’, 5” (50.9222o). Fidler’s latitude calculations were quite accurate. Longitude was not. But, if we take Fidler at his word, we really don’t need longitude because Fidler gives us a fairly precise east-west reference point where he built the fort – the confluence of the two rivers.

A satellite image of the confluence of the two rivers. The problem with river confluences, is that they can move. You can see the old Red Deer River channels in this image (shown in dark green). At one point in time it flowed into the South Saskatchewan River further north. Some researchers believed this was the original confluence in 1800 and looked for the forts in that area. But, Fidler’s 50o, 55’, 5” (50.9222o) is much closer to the present confluence than to the northern older one.
Peter Fidler’s longitude for the confluence of the rivers was out a considerable distance. Not unusual in those days when highly accurate time pieces were required to estimate how far west from Greenwich Mean time you were located. Fidler’s latitude however, was remarkably accurate, being approximately 15″ or +/- 450 metres out.

While rereading Fidler’s published journals (for the umpteenth time) this spring, I noticed at the end of the 1800-01 trading season a note by the editor: “[Meteorological and Astronomical Observations, made at Chesterfield House, covering 15 manuscript pages, not printed]” (From Alice Johnson 1967:268. Saskatchewan Journals and Correspondence 1795 – 1802. The Hudson’s Bay Record Society, Volume XXVI). I wondered if Fidler gave a more accurate reading of latitude and longitude for Chesterfield House in those unpublished notes. Fortunately I was able to get hold of a copy of his original journal, including the missing 15 pages.

Yes, indeed. Fidler gives two readings for latitude at Chesterfield House: 1) 50o55’12” (50.920o); and, 2) 50o55’21’’ (50.9225o). Both readings are relatively similar to his original north riverbank reading recorded at the confluence of the two rivers where initially he wanted to build. Had they been significantly different then it might suggest he built elsewhere (than right at the confluence).

Next I looked at a few historic maps of the area. One map shows the location of Chesterfield House, marked by a dot, on the north side of the South Saskatchewan River, some distance downriver from the forks. But Fidler stated, “…opposite the mouth of the Red Deers River where we are to build…”

This particular map of the western prairies, shows the confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers, with a dot depicting the location of Chesterfield House. That dot is east of the forks on the north bank of the South Saskatchewan River. It likely refers to the later post built by the HBC downriver from the forks in 1821 (which also has never been found). (https://earlycanadianhistory.ca/2018/06/18/what-peter-fidler-didnt-report/)

Then I found another map drawn by both Fidler and his Blackfoot informant, Ak ko Wee ak in 1802. Does the straight line across the Red Deer River, with Chesterfield House’ written on it, indicate where the fort was built? If so, it was built upriver from the confluence of the two rivers.

A map drawn by Fidler’s Blackfoot informant Ak ko Wee ak in 1802. Fidler wrote the names of places on the map. On that map there is a straight vertical line across the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers. If the line represents where the fort was built, then Chesterfield House was located some distance (distance unknown, because there is no scale) up the Red Deer River. (From HBCA PAM: E.3/2 fos. 103d)
On this map, drawn by Fidler’s informant, Ak ko mok ki, in 1802, there is a little drawing of Chesterfield House located on the north side of the river(s). But its location is very general. The fort could be anywhere within miles of the forks. (From HBCA B.39/a/2 fo.93)

Unfortunately no one, while searching for the forts, has taken the Native maps or Fidler’s latitude reading of the forts location very seriously. Keep in mind, Fidler was a very accurate surveyor for his day, especially when it came to calculating latitude. His readings were out by about 15 seconds of latitude, or +/- 450 metres.

If we ran his latitude for Chesterfield House as a straight straight line across a current map, assuming about 15 seconds (~450m) of error (shown by orange dashed lines on either side of the black line), where might the fort(s) be located?

Peter Fidler’s latitude projected onto a current map of the confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers. The orange dashed lines represent the margins of error around his calculations. The orange elliptical shapes are where other archaeologists have searched for the lost forts. The blue elliptical shapes are where no one has searched but are well within Peter Fidler’s margin of error for latitude.
Peter Fidler’s latitude for Chesterfield House, and margins of error, superimposed on a current satellite image of the area. The small yellow rectangle represents the area we are interested in and will discuss shortly. The other dashed line further north is another area archaeologists searched for the forts. The latitude of this area is well beyond Fidler’s margins of error.

Another little hint, where the Chesterfield forts might have been built, was a comment in Peter Fidler’s journals. “Dug up the small bateau that was laid up in the spring: the heavy rise of water in the summer had buried it four feet deep in sand.” (From Alice Johnson 1967:268. Saskatchewan Journals and Correspondence 1795 – 1802. The Hudson’s Bay Record Society, Volume XXVI). Presumably the boat was near the fort. If so, it suggests the fort was located on an inside meander of the river, where flood sediments are deposited. Instead of the outside meander where high water cuts away the bank.

We haven’t looked for these forts at all the possible places that are within Fidler’s range of error for latitude. And there are reasons for it. This is large area filled with dense wolf willow scrub and wild rose bushes that is not too pleasant to walk through, or find things. And Fidler’s reference to the forts being built at the forks of the rivers has perhaps been taken too literally. Would the London Committee reading his journals really care if he built a mile or two either way of the forks?

Searching for rock historic building chimney piles in the dense bush on the lower terraces of the Red Deer River. In some places visibility is poor and walking is tough. Currently there is no LIDAR (laser imaging, detection, and ranging coverage) for this area, which would help immensely to expose detailed surface ground contouring and possible evidence of the sites.

To add yet another obstacle to our search, not everything historical in this area is related to the early 19th century fur trade. This area was occupied and traveled over for thousands of years by First Nations Peoples. It became an important Metis settlement, Riviere La Biche, in the 1870s and 1880s, which would have left physical remains similar to those present at earlier fur trade forts.

A late 19th century chimney and fireplace, built by trappers, the Adsett brothers, still stands in one of the local farmyards in the area. The former Metis settlement of Riviere La Biche, was located around the confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers. People built chimneys and fireplaces, similar to these, during the early fur trade. These and other building remains, such as cellars, would be indistinguishable from one another without detailed archaeological exploration. However, unlike the Metis cabins which are scattered over a large area, the Chesterfield House forts, and their buildings, were built in a smaller area, surrounded by stockades.

The Search Continues, Spring 2021

This spring (2021), when preparing this blog, I wanted a good satellite image of the forks area where Chesterfield House might be located. While doing so I noticed a long rectangle-shaped, light-colored outline on the satellite image.

This is the image of the Red Deer River flats on one of the meanders that I first looked at. At this height do you see what I see? Or, do I just have an supercharged imagination?
Here is a closer view of the satellite image. Do you see the long rectangle, lightly highlighted, oriented in a northeast-southwest direction in this image? Quite often simple aerial photography and other types of imagery can pick up features from the air, not seen on the ground by the naked eye.

This is the feature I see when looking the the satellite image. The long rectangle is relatively well-pronounced. The other lines to the west are not as definite. The NWC and HBC were built together, enclosed in a common stockade, which is explains the long, rectangular outline. Fidler states the XY Company built just west of his fort.

After reviewing the historic documents, satellite images, and constructing arguments that this might be the lost Chesterfield House forts, the next step was to re-revisit the site and look for physical clues on the ground.

So, my wife, Gabriella Prager, also an archaeologist, and I drove to the Empress area in April to see what we could see. When I visited this same location in 2005, I saw some rock scatters and slight depressions. It was time to reevaluate what those features might be, relative to this new-found evidence.

Once there, we looked for depressions, pits, rocks or mounds or any other evidence that could indicate a human occupation. The surface of this area is quite undulating and uneven from repeated flooding and scouring over the years. Just how much sediment covers the original 1800 ground surface is uncertain without excavating. However, based on other floodplains of this vintage (e.g., the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion I site, northern Alberta), there could be as much as one-half metre or more sediments covering the original land surface and the remains of anything built on that surface. Fidler’s description of the bateau buried in over four feet of river sediments is most telling in this regard. And that was just one of many flooding events since then.

The area in question, where the long rectangular outline in the satellite photograph appears. Slightly elevated, the area contains little shrubbery, as was also the case in 2005.

When walking the area we noticed the ground was slightly elevated on the east and south sides. These elevated areas were likely responsible for the light-colored lines we saw on the satellite image. Normally, old stockade lines are slightly depressed, even after flooding. We did however also notice a few rock scatters and slight depressions with the rectangular outline.

Walking along the elevated ridge on the east side of the rectangle. This could be an old river terrace edge. The south edge is also elevated. However, there are no visible surface signs of anything where the west and north lines occur on the satellite image.
A small scatter of rocks. Possibly the remnants of a fireplace. But from what time period? Remember, this is a floodplain and rocks don’t float. So, it’s not a natural event. This definitely is evidence of human activities.
Gabriella Prager taking notes and GPS coordinates of a small depression on the site.

What We Concluded

It would be folly to state, without first excavating and testing this area, that we have discovered the Chesterfield House sites. We first need to find certain kinds of other archaeological evidence to suggest that these features, and that intriguing rectangular satellite image, are related to the early 19th century fur trade, and not some later period Metis household: 1) footer trenches representing palisades; 2) early 19th century artifacts representing the time period in question; 3) more building remains confined to the rectangle; and, 4) considerable amounts of animal bone from both human consumption of wild game and making meat provisions for the trip downriver.

There are things about this site that are troubling and do not fit what I expect to see on the surface of the ground; if this were a historic fur trade fort. First is the lack of more obvious visible surface features such as chimney piles and cellar depressions. Second, is the lack of visible faunal debris, or any artifacts. Given the amount of meat consumed, animal bone remains are typically considerable at forts such as this.

To some degree, this lack of evidence might be explained by the amount of flooding that has occurred in the area. If substantial, it may have covered any historic remains with considerable sediments and infilling most depressions that would be cellars, privies, and refuse pits. However, at other fur trade sites abandoned for over 200 years and constantly flooded, we have observed more pronounced surface features than we see here. However, currently we know little about flooding episodes and depositional rate of sediments of the Red Deer River, which could be quite different from our northern rivers.

To be clear, without further investigations, what we (and others) have found is definite proof of a human occupation of some sort at this spot. Based on the historic evidence regarding Chesterfield House, this location is a suitable candidate for these early NWC, HBC and XY Company forts. But, that’s as far as we can go presently. The area warrants further archaeological investigations to either refute or verify our claim.

EndNote

For those of who you who are aspiring students of history or archaeology, there’s a simple lesson here. Combining the evidence from two disciplines (history and archaeology) usually results in a more complete understating of human history. Not always, but better two independent lines of evidence to examine a problem of history, than only one. And perhaps, with the new remote sensing imagery, more than only two disciplines is necessary to eventually find these rather elusive historic forts.

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My Stone Maul. Just Grinding and Pecking Away: Progress(?) Report Number Two

I picked up this ground-stone granite maul on the Canadian prairies many years ago. I decided to try and make one like it. Hopefully by making one I would understand better the methods Indigenous peoples used, and also the amount of work involved.

In a previous post (https://canehdianstories.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=2853&action=edit) I discussed Indigenous ground-stone technology on the Canadian prairies. I decided that because we knew so little on how some objects, such as grooved stone mauls, were made I would try to make one. This method of inquiry is known as ‘Experimental Archaeology’ – a sub-field of archaeology intended to gain insight into prehistoric methods people used by replicating them. These are a few of my thoughts after a little over a week of working on this project. As usual, whenever I take on projects like this there are some real eye-openers. So far, I haven’t been disappointed.

I managed to get in about four hours of work on the quartzite cobble I chose to make my ground-stone maul. Below is a photograph showing my progress pecking and grinding the stone maul. Most of you, after looking closely at this photograph, will probably think: ‘What progress? I don’t see any.’

My quartzite cobble that I chose to make a ground-stone maul, after about four hours of work. As is quite evident, there are some scratches on the cortex (the outer oxidized layer of the cobble) and ever-so slight grooving.

Well, let me explain. Perhaps another photograph will help. If you look at the cobble closely, at just the right angle, with just the right light, you can see a slight indentation on the cortex (the outer oxidized layer on the rock). You can actually feel it better than see it.

A closer view of my attempt to start a groove on the maul after about four hours of work. In places I may have broken through the cortex. But barely. I’m also finding it hard to aim the stone grooving tool and keep it straight. It kind of wants to wander everywhere. Once I have established a groove, it should become easier to direct my aim.

In short, it’s going to take a little longer than the eight hours someone estimated it took to make a granite grooved maul. At this rate with the methods I’m using, you might add one or two zeros to the number eight. I’ll explain my methods, and the tools I’m using to make the maul, to give you a better understanding WHY it’s taking me so long to make any progress.

Pecking? Forget It

First I thought I would try to peck the groove using a small quartzite pebble having the same hardness as the maul. That didn’t work worth a damn. Not only was the impact area of the pecking stone too round, it wore down faster than the cobble I was pecking. And, after forty-five minutes of banging away I was getting nowhere, fast. At first the surface of the cobble looked good with all the stone flour on it. Then I realized that the flour was coming off my pecking stone and not the cobble.

This method was a waste of time. At least for me. It might work better to form basalt hand-mauls, but is difficult to make an initial groove in the quartzite cobble this way. Also, the hammerstone I used was too large with too blunt an end to be accurate. And, while there was a lot of stone flour on the quartzite cobble, it was mostly from the hammerstone.
The end of the hammerstone I used to peck on the quartzite cobble, after about forty-five minutes. It was getting me nowhere. Quite a bit of wear on the hammerstone though.

Sawing and Grinding

Next, I found a small coarse-grained sandstone flake. I used a sawing motion across about two centimetres of the flake edge to grind a groove on the cobble. This method worked much better than pecking. After one hour, I thought I saw some of the natural pockmarks on the cobble surface begin to smooth out. But, there was no point measuring my progress. I don’t think they make instruments capable of measuring that small a depth. I was averaging about 150 – 155 strokes per minute using this sawing technique. Or, with one hour’s work, 9,000 – 9,300 strokes. My fingers cramped pretty badly after only one hour’s work.

I started grinding the cobble with this orthoquartzite or hard sandstone flake. I used the entire thin edge length of the flake to grind away on the cobble surface. This method worked moderately well, but after about one hour, the flake no longer had an effective edge and will have to be replaced or resharpened.

Continued Search for Just the Right Tool

The coarse-grained sandstone flake worked well enough. But, was there something better? At this stage of the project I’m still guessing and experimenting with different methods. Next I fashioned a few more quartzite flakes. But this time I looked for flakes having burin-like tip (a type of handheld lithic flake with a chisel-like edge which prehistoric humans used for cutting wood or bone), or graver tips (lithic tool with a slightly more pointed tip than a burin), so that I could better gouge the surface of the maul.

This close-up view of a lithic burin tool used for cutting wood, bone and antler, also seems to work for grooving the quartzite cobble. From: https://www.quora.com/What-is-a-burin-used-for
In this photograph I’m using a burin-like quartzite flake tool and pushing it forward on the quartzite cobble. I’m slowly but surely removing microscopic bits of quartzite to form the groove for the maul. At first I just hand-held the flake. But after a while it was doing more damage to my fingers than to the cobble. So, I wrapped it in paper towel to prevent blisters (a real authentic touch). After about two hours of using this tool, the tip got dull. I retouched the edges of the flake to resharpen it. It should still work until at some point it becomes too small to effectively hold. I am also thinking of using a heavier, larger flake to apply more pressure on the edge. It might also be easier to hold.

If I held the flake at just the right angle (about 20 – 30 degrees) and pushed real hard, I felt I was scouring the cobble better than with the other two methods. However, if the flake point is held to low, not much scouring happened. If I held the flake too high, I couldn’t push it very well, or accurately. Blisters were starting to appear on my fingers, so I wrapped the flake in a paper towel. A piece of leather would do quite nicely as well. Occasionally I found my fore-finger scraping across the cobble as I pushed the flake.

Closeup of the tip of the quartzite flake, showing the wear from grinding on the stone maul. Also, the wear on my fingers holding the flake to grind the maul.

I’m working with rocks, which are good conductors of heat. I’m causing a lot of friction and heat when using the sawing methods. Perhaps dunking the flake tool in water, or adding water to maul surface, would prevent heat build-up.

A Few Closing Observations

It’s pretty obvious already that this project is going to take a long, long time to make. Unless I figure out a better method of incising my cobble. So far, both the sandstone saw and graving/gouging with considerable force on the flake work the best.

Patience is a key here. We live in a society of instant results and gratification. This project would be something you worked on all winter when there was less other work to do. Like knitting sweaters or large rugs, which took many hours to fashion. I also find that grinding away is a lot like distance running. Eventually, through repeated strokes which take little thinking, it puts your mind in a different place, relaxing it. We could all use a bit more of that in our present-day society.

Given the amount of work that I expect to put into making this tool (if I ever do), I would highly value it. In archaeology we call this curation. People would have valued these mauls because of the effort involved making them. If people were not carrying their mauls from one camp to another, then they would have carefully cached them for safety. Or there was some sort of agreement among families using the same camp, to leave the mauls after use. In a previous post (https://canehdianstories.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=2016&action=edit), on stone axes in Australia, I noted how highly prized they were among the Australian aborigines. Similar processes might have been operating here in the Americas with these mauls.

Indigenous people on the West Coast of Canada used more ground-stone technology to fashion stone tools than people on the prairies. The major reason may be related to access to more relatively softer (than quartzite) types of stone, such as basalt, for fashioning ground stone tools. I’m making my ground stone maul out of quartzite, the hardest and most common material available on the prairies. If I had a choice, knowing what I already know about this process, quartzite would not have been my first choice. Yet, most ground-stone mauls on the prairies are made from quartzite. The trade-off, however, is that a quartzite maul would not break as easily as mauls made of softer types of rocks.

These rather ornate hammerstones and grooved mauls are from the North West Coast of Canada. They are made mostly of basalt which is slightly easier to work than my quartzite cobble. However, even so, it would have taken a considerable amount of effort and ingenuity to fashion them. (Image from: Hilary Stewart, 1973. Artifacts of the Northwest Coast Indians. Hancock House Publishers.)

I just finished reading an article on how First Nations peoples in British Columbia, Canada, made nephrite adzes. Nephrite, on the Mohs hardness scale, is between 6 – 6.5. This material is slightly less hard than my wonder cobble, but still not that easy to carve. According to author, Hilary Stewart, people sawed nephrite boulders using a sandstone saw, with sand and water added for greater abrasion.

This series of sketches shows how archaeologists think nephrite boulders were cut into thin slabs which were then edged to make the highly prized nephrite adzes. As a sedimentary stone, sandstone has a hardness between 6 and 7. But the quartz fragments that it is composed of have a hardness of 7. So, as a saw this material would work well to cut/grind the hard quartzite. (Image from: Hilary Stewart, 1973. Artifacts of the Northwest Coast Indians. Hancock House Publishers.)

Maybe I’ll use a larger piece of sandstone next, and add a sand/water compound for more grit. And, a saw makes more sense since there is a greater surface area working to groove my cobble. With the flake burin I could only use a forward motion. Thus, a sawing tool having a greater edge area and back and forth motion should be much more efficient than a tiny tip of stone being pushed in only one direction. However, having said that, often what we think works best, doesn’t always materialize into reality. That’s why experimenting with these techniques is so important.

But, what kind of edge should the stone saw have to be most effective?

In this series of diagrams a piece of nephrite is cut using a sandstone saw. Note the upper three diagrams. Before use the saw blade edge is a V-shape. Then after grinding/cutting the nephrite, it becomes rounded from use, probably making it less effective to cut a thin groove, but still useful to form a wider groove in the rock, which is necessary for my grooved stone maul. Perhaps this is a natural, necessary progression. We start with a thin, deep groove when the sandstone edge is thin, then as it gets rounder it widens the groove. (Image from: Hilary Stewart, 1973. Artifacts of the Northwest Coast Indians. Hancock House Publishers.)

Stay tuned. I’ll check in again after reaching another sort of milestone with my project. However, I’m going to rethink what type of grinding tool to use and what it should be made out of. That’s what happens when, after four hours of hard work, you can barely see any progress. Suddenly creativity sets in.

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COFFEE ROW IN A SMALL CANADIAN TOWN

Where do you go if you want to get to the heart of any small Canadian prairie town? Coffee Row is where it’s at.

A Small Town In Trouble

You can take the pulse of a town by the number and vintage of vehicles parked in front of the local restaurant. If coffee row is healthy, then so is the town.

They gathered at Frank’s restaurant across the street from the local Co-op grocery store. There was no set time. Just a steady stream of people all day long. Some even came twice a day, if gossip was brisk. Some came so often they had preassigned seats. No one sat in Jim’s place.

Coffee row was where people discussed and sorted out things. Exchanged information. Solved the world’s problems. Well, at least in the minds of those sitting there.

Frank, owner of the small prairie restaurant, slowly glided around serving coffee, saying little. What was there to say? No one ever asked him what he thought.

Stan, Erna, Jim, Mary, Sarah and Bill were already there. Slowly drinking their coffee, as if they had all the time in the world. But this morning they had troubled looks on their faces, gazing at the scene across the street.

Erna finally spoke up. “Well, I’ll be darned. Shame that Jackson’s hardware is shutting down. That was a good business once. Bought all my stuff there. I don’t know what ever happened to the place.”

Bill thought he knew. “Old man Jackson was a good businessman. His kid ran it into the ground. Everyone supported the store. Where did the money go?”

Mary, sitting beside Bill, knew better. “I don’t buy that, Bill. The kid parties a little. A lot less than your kid.” This got a rise out of Bill. And a snicker or two from coffee row.

She went on. “But he’s not showy, spending all his money on toys. Fact of the matter is people are shopping more in the big cities. And slowly leaving our town, Bill. Nothing to do. No work here.”

Bill, now a little huffy after Mary’s comment, shot back. “We should do something about it, instead of just sitting here drinking our coffee.”

“And what are we going to do, Bill? Strike a committee? Maybe order people not to leave town, or go to the city to shop? You got a plan, buddy? Let’s hear it.”

Bill was silent. He had no plan. No one did. Instead, he turned and watched intently as the Jackson kid cleaned out the store and boarded up the front windows. Was this a sign of rot and gloom setting into their small town?

Sarah was beginning to tear up. “Fifty years and suddenly it’s all gone. Who’s next? When’s the bleeding going to stop?” Everyone looked on in silence as the kid continued to board up a lifetime of work and memories. Usually coffee row could solve the hardest problems. But this was a tough one.

Frank glided down coffee row behind a now solemn looking bunch on coffee row. “More coffee anyone. Made fresh pot just a few minutes ago. Maybe some fresh apple pie?”

Everyone absently nodded for a refill. As if Frank didn’t exist. Some ordered pie. Heck, no sense leaving now. There was still the weather and politics to sort out. And then the Thornton girl’s unwanted pregnancy, the local hockey team’s recent poor play, and Harry’s drinking problem. The list was long this morning.

Then Harry came in. Looking slightly tired and smelling of gin. Well, stroke Harry off today’s agenda. There was still lots to talk about though.

Talking about these matters could take time. A person might even have to stay for lunch if Frank offered one of his specials. Often coffee row turned into lunch row.

Across the street the young boy watched his father board up their store. He was crying, not letting his mother console him. Young Everett loved the store. The town. His friends. He didn’t want to leave. So, he screamed even louder. Hoping to convince mom and dad to stay. It didn’t help.

A Big Gamble

They were older now. And professing to be wiser. They sat in silence on coffee row. Slowly stirring their coffee. Hoping that with enough stirring, things would improve. Staring out the window at the boarded up Jackson’s store. Over the years a few other businesses had joined Jackson’s fate. Jim noticed a few weeds growing out of the town pavement.

Jim spoke first. As he looked over at the Jackson building, he slowly shook his head. “Jeez, Jackson’s closing was bad enough. But this? This is a hopeless disaster. What’s the town going to do now?”

“You mean what are WE going to do, Jim? It’s OUR bloody town.” Mary felt a slight headache coming on. Sometimes it was hard to listen to this pain in the ass sitting across from her.

“Don’t get me involved in this. I don’t live in town. I farm.”

“Farm. Ha!,” snorted Sarah. “You call that farming? You’re in town more often than on the farm, Jim. I don’t know who farms out there. But it’s sure not you.”

Jim said nothing. They had no idea how hard it was to farm. Occasionally he needed a break. To get away from it all.

Frank, a fresh white apron wrapped around him, jumped in. “More coffee anyone? Trying out new brand. Nice aroma, very tasty.” Hopefully more coffee would stop a fight from breaking out. Coffee row occasionally became a testy place. Tempers flared. Solving other peoples’ problems did that to a person.

Just about everybody ignored him. The tension grew. Frank worried. He tried his last and best gambit. “Today’s lunch special, everyone. My specialty, Chop Suey. All fresh. Very tasty. Only five-ninety-five, with dessert.” This usually calmed them down. Today it had no effect whatsoever. Frank worried even more.

“I heard the town invested over a hundred grand in infrastructure, hoping the Company workers would live here. But they didn’t come. Everyone from the new mill settled up the road in Morton instead. Kind of stupid. A much further commute to work than if they lived here.”

“I didn’t know the town had a hundred grand.”

“Well, where do you think our taxes go, Sarah? Of course the town has a hundred grand. We’re not dead yet.” Then they all looked out across the street at the boarded up store-fronts. Wondering about the truth of those words.

“But, how could our town council be so naive? To even think that was a good idea? Morton’s bigger. It even has a Tim Horton’s. Hard to compete with that.” Jim, now sounded as if he were living in town again. This gained him a few haughty looks.

And a chewing-out. Sarah had enough. “First of all, Jim. It’s not your town council. You live on the farm. You really got no say in this matter. This is town peoples’ business. Don’t you have some cattle to feed? Crops to harvest? That sort of stuff.”

Jim stood up in a huff and flung his quarters onto the table. And left quickly. Swearing never to return. He would. They always did. Frank glided by and deftly picked up the coins. Dropping them safely into his big brass cash register till behind the counter. Smiling at everyone. As if nothing had happened.

“Well, I’ll tell you why the town got bamboozled and took that gamble. It’s our mayor and council. They don’t tell anyone what they’re up to. There’s no oversight. They’re desperate. The town’s hurting. Anything that comes along that sounds half good, they jump at it. That’s what happened.” Stan usually said little on coffee row. But, when he did, people listened. That’s what eight sections of farmland and money in the bank could buy you on coffee row. Respect. Lots of it.

And Stan, unlike Jim, now lived in town.

Just then, Randy, their mayor stepped through the restaurant door. He badly needed a pack of cigarettes to get him through the day. As he nervously looked around, he realized everyone on coffee row was staring at him. ‘Probably not the best time to stop at Frank’s,’ realized Randy a little too late.

“Morning everyone. How are we all this morning?” Silence greeted him. Randy put on his best smile as he looked down coffee row. What he saw wasn’t good. Randy didn’t take official polls in town. He just needed to stop at coffee row occasionally to see how his political future fared. This morning it looked very bleak. Hopeless in fact.

Frank got Randy his cigarettes and looked on. “Randy, maybe you stay for lunch. Nice special today. Chop Suey. And I think maybe a side of fried rice with it.” Randy paid for his cigarettes, mumbled something about not feeling that hungry, and quickly left.

The others on coffee row continued arguing about one of the biggest screw-ups the town had ever seen. Frank worried about Randy. He was trying to save the little town. Frank had watched the careers of many mayors over the years. Through the eyes and ears of coffee row. Coffee row was a finely tuned machine in predicting their political futures. It wasn’t just Frank’s rice that was frying. Randy’s political future was also taking a little heat.

Salvation

Virtually the same people sat on coffee row. But now, more stooped, older and white-haired. Canes rested by chairs. A wheel chair stood in the corner. A few regulars were missing. Maybe watching over coffee row from above. Or below. There were some new faces. That was promising.

They all stared across the street where a young man was working diligently taking the boards off the windows of the old Jackson Hardware Store. There was hammering and sawing and a bunch of other stuff going on inside. But no one knew what. And that wore on coffee row. Not knowing what was going on in town was the worst thing that could happen to a person on coffee row.

Sarah was itching to find out. If she could break this story there would be free coffee for her. She was first to arrive, so she got in the first question. “I heard he’s setting up some kind of video and gambling center. Is this another one of town council’s lame brain schemes at revitalizing our town?”

Sarah was an expert at getting people talking. Just ask a simple, even a dumb question that people could react to. She’d learned that from watching certain reporters on TV.

“Don’t know. But that guy looks familiar. Isn’t that the Jackson boy’s oldest son? Sure looks like it from here.” They all squinted harder through watery eyes and thick glasses.

“Well, he’s sure busy and it looks like he’s throwing a lot of money into that building. You must have made some money with that sale, Stan, after buying it years ago.”

“Yeh, that’s Jackson’s oldest. Don’t know what he’s doing back here. I made a bit of money off that sale. Enough to buy everyone coffee this morning.” They all thought this very good of Stan. Some were hoping Frank would have a lunch special today. Maybe Stan would spring for lunch too.

They all looked back out the window across the street. A sign was going up on the store front. In big bold letters it read: MUSTANG ENTERPRISES.

“What? He gonna sell horses? I don’t think that will get him very far.” Jim knew. He’d tried horses years ago on his farm. Fancy ones. Not mustangs. That didn’t work out too well. Jim never seemed to have enough time to properly train and work them.

The young man across the street stepped back and looked at his handiwork. Then he put down his hammer, took his son by the hand, and walked across the street to Frank’s restaurant.

A dozen pairs of eyes followed him across the street and through the restaurant door. Jackson’s father would never have come to coffee row. And, according to experts on coffee row, that was one of the problems. Maybe even why the business failed. You had to talk to people in the community. Get to know them. Especially those on coffee row.

As he stepped through the door, Everett looked around. Some things never changed. He still recognized a few faces. Now older with whiter hair, if they had any. But the alert, inquisitive eyes told him everything. They wanted to know what he was doing here. They could barely contain themselves.

“Morning everyone. Mind if I join you. Could use a little more caffeine this morning.” Without waiting for an answer Everett plunked himself down on a chair at the end of the table. His son sat down beside him.

His greetings were returned by a few polite, cautious responses. Couldn’t trust these outsiders anymore. Especially after that last town debacle. Frank glided up, coffee pot in hand. A little more stooped and not walking quite as smoothly as years ago.

“Coffee, Everett? And for the young guy? A coke maybe?”

“That’d be great, Fan. How’s your family, your wife, Feng?”

“Oh, everyone good, Everett. Children move away. Nothing here for them. Feng cook, still put up with me.”

There was shock and silence up and down coffee row. Fan? They all thought he was just Frank. Few bothered to find out his real name. And how did Fan know Jackson so well? It would be hard finding the answers on coffee row. Without Fan listening in. Well, maybe they could just ask him.

“Nice sign, Mr. Jackson. You now sell Mustang cars, right? You get me a bright yellow one. With big motor. I pay cash.” Everyone wondered how Fan could afford a fancy new car running a restaurant. The fact that he worked sixteen – eighteen hours a day hadn’t crossed their minds.

“No, Fan. I don’t sell real mustangs, or cars.” Jim the horse expert, and Bert, who owned a small car dealership, were relieved to hear that.

Mary couldn’t hold back any longer. She just had to know. “Well, if not cars or horses, what do you sell, or do, Mr. Jackson? What does that sign mean anyway?”

“You know what mustangs are, Mary. Wild, free and a bit of an independent bunch. They do as they please and make their own way in the world. That’s us.”

Everett was just about to continue when the mayor walked in. He quickly gazed around taking the pulse of the town down coffee row. Looked safe enough. So he sat down beside Everett.

“Morning everyone. Dad, how you keeping?” Stan just nodded and waved.

“So, how’s it going over there, Everett? Lot of banging and sawing. Where did you learn how to do that?”

Some of the members of coffee row looked concerned. Everett and the mayor knew one another? The newcomer seemed to know everyone. If he joined coffee row it could upset the delicate balance established over many years. He could be a real threat in the gossip department.

“Going well, Jason. Learned a little carpentry by renovating my house in the city. Only way to learn anything.”

Everyone on coffee row thought those words exceedingly wise. A few wished they’d learned that lesson long ago.

Everett idly scratched the back of his neck, as if something was irritating him. “That refit’s not my biggest problem, Jason. I need to hire three or four really good computer tech people and two secretaries. Seems to be a shortage of those around here.”

Stan, or Fan, overheard Jason. “Seriously, Everett? First son, Fook, looking around for different job. Want to get out of city. Too big, too expensive.”

“Actually, Fan, that might work. I remember Fook. What’s he do? I need one person specializing in computer machine and assembly languages. Another one in algorithmic languages. FORTRAN. ALGOL. C. I could use someone who knows BASIC, Pascal, Logo, or Hypertalk. Or someone with a background in C++ C# Ada, Java, Visual Basic or Python.”

Fan casually took in Everett’s words. The rest of coffee row only gaped. As if Fan and Everett had just invented some sort of new language? “I text him immediately and see what he specialize in.” Fan left in a hurry, forgetting the coffee pot on the table.

Everett looked around. There was silence on coffee row. No one knew what to say. Even Mary was afraid to ask again what Everett did.

“Well, time to go. Nothing ever got done sitting around here. Let me know if there are any town folks that might need jobs.” That was an understatement thought Mary. She’d help if only she knew what the jobs were for.

Everett was about to get up and leave when he thought of something else. “Oh, and we’re going to need houses. I saw a few boarded up driving around town. Anyone know who owns them?”

All eyes turned towards Stan. Some of them now not in a too friendly manner. Fully knowing that Stan bought those places almost for nothing years back. Another great real estate opportunity squandered.

Stan gave a nervous cough. “I could probably help you out, Mr. Jackson. Heard prices for housing were going up though in these little towns. Seems a lot of people are moving out of the city and need homes.”

“Now dad. Everett needs some houses for his people at a fair price. To get his business going.” Everyone on coffee row fully supported their mayor on this point, and gave Stan a withering look to show it.

“Well, got to get back to my coffee row.” Everett stood and poured his unfinished coffee into his thermos.

“But, this is coffee row, Mr. Jackson. You know of another one around here? You opening up a restaurant or something? Maybe one of those fancy internet cafes?” Fan, who rarely ever showed any emotion, now had a worried look on his face.

Everett only grinned. “I collect information. Just like you folks. My coffee row sits on six big computer screens, connected to the rest of the world. Last time I looked there were 22.5 million of us, sipping coffee, collecting and exchanging information. But the information we collect is valuable to the right people. We repackage and sell it.” Only stunned silence greeted his words. Had they known, they could have made millions off coffee row over the years. Even Jim would have fared better, than farming.

As Everett walked across the street he looked around the small town. There were fewer ‘For Sale’ signs and more ‘Sold’ signs on homes and businesses than when he first had checked it out. Always a good omen.

Even coffee row was recruiting, it seemed. And with a healthy coffee row there was always hope for a small town in Canada.

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ALeKk03ckD6wRIvbZxX2lLhPfBmeTaQeYQ:1620237559689&source=univ&tbm=isch&q=images+small+town+restaurants+canada&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj4qsmhj7PwAhVDpZ4KHWO-A5oQ7Al6BAgEEFw&biw=1288&bih=722#imgrc=0DK-ymv3D2sLZM

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EndNote

I grew up around or in small towns on the Canadian prairies. As a grocery boy working part-time at the Co-op store through high school, right across from the local restaurant, I watched the proceedings at coffee row quite often. This is where people gathered to casually socialize, exchange information, or barbs, and just generally be part of the community. It was an important institution. And, not just in my home town. It was common across the Canadian prairies. And elsewhere too, I’m sure.

I also saw first-hand how small towns struggled to stay afloat. And how hard people worked to keep them going. But eventually over the years, ever so slowly, they dwindled away as more people left, businesses closed and infrastructure couldn’t keep up. One author in a recent magazine called this the Slow Burn.

In a recent article in Maclean’s Magazine (https://www.macleans.ca/killing-rural-canada/), that same author, journalist, Aaron Hutchins asked the big question: What’s Killing Rural Canada? There were multiple reasons. I touched on a few in this story. But there were few solutions on how to fix the problem.

I’m an optimist. Perhaps a bit of a dreamer. I don’t know if all small Canadian towns can be saved. Do we need one every eight or ten miles along a stretch of highway in rural Saskatchewan? Perhaps long ago we did. Even in the 1950s, when I first arrived in Canada, some of those towns were already struggling. But I think some might be saved. Computers and the internet are changing where many Canadians work or run a business. The pandemic has also helped the process along, as more people work from home.

Of course, this method doesn’t work for all businesses or industry. Virtual baking can’t replace the real thing.

“It’s not just families seeing the appeal either. Businesses, both startups and large organizations, are making the move (think Amazon considering Kitchener-Waterloo over Toronto’s downtown) for the same reason the average Joe is. Lower cost of operation, more room to grow.” https://www.empirecommunities.com/blog/rural-renaissance-how-a-new-generation-is-embracing-small-town-living/

In Alberta, the shift to smaller towns outside the large urban centers is underway. The recent Covid pandemic is partly responsible, as people try to isolate in the less densely populated rural communities. But there are other reasons as well:

“Another driving factor is that people can work from home since remote working is still being encouraged by many employers. Some businesses are offering more flexible working environments such as work from home at least a few days a week, with a requirement of going to the office occasionally. This allows home buyers considerably more flexibility when looking for a new home, no longer bound by the requirement of being in close proximity to the office. This explains the surge of families exploring quieter, more remote areas that traditionally only attracted retirees.” https://blog.remax.ca/canadian-real-estate-alberta-an-ideal-buyers-market/

On British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast, where I live part-time, the local real estate market in the community of Powell River is going bonkers. For many of the reasons listed above. Plus, a lot of baby boomers in the large urban centers are cashing in on their multi-million dollar properties in the city and moving where living is slower and cheaper.

“Grand totals show 40 units, valued at $13,572,800, sold in December 2020, compared to 25 units, valued at $8,872,700, in December 2019.” https://www.prpeak.com/real-estate-news/strong-real-estate-sales-continue-in-powell-river-3418406

No one currently knows where this will all end. But the signs are encouraging. So, maybe there’s still hope for that small town and coffee row in Canada. Or, perhaps I’m just dreaming and being overly optimistic. But, that’s usually what writing fiction is all about.

……………………….

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Just Grinding And Pecking Away: A Closer Look At Ground Stone Tool Technology (Part One)

A grooved stone maul. A prehistoric object, found on many continents, made by grinding or pecking the groove to attach a handle. An incredibly labor-intensive activity taking many hours to complete.

In Alberta, stone mauls were used for thousands of years. One maul was found in an archaeological site dating over 10,000 years in Alberta (Fedyniak and Giering, 2016). Unfortunately very few mauls are found in an archaeological context, allowing accurate dating. There is currently no known change in their shape and/or size through time. And, these mauls mainly occur on the southern prairies and not further north.

In the mid-1970s, while out hunting in southern Saskatchewan, I picked up this grooved stone maul in a cultivated field near the edge of a slough. The maul is made from a coarse granitic stone. This one is about 11cm high and 10cm wide. It weighs 1.3kg (2.8lbs). The groove goes almost all the way around the maul, but gets shallower on one side. The groove is about 15mm wide and 5mm deep. One side of the maul has been damaged, either through use or when hit by a farm implement.

Considerable chunk missing on one side of the maul. There is a thin, deep cut line at one edge of the fracture. Possibly made by a cultivator blade rolling over the maul, breaking off a piece.
Close-up view showing the grove in the maul that is polished and smoothed and not as rough as the rest of the stone.

At the time my buddies gathered around to see what I’d found. I confidently stated it was a grooved maul. First Nations people made and used them for pounding things.

How could anyone know so much about a seemingly foreign-looking object by just picking it up and looking at it? Good question. There’s nothing really obvious about the maul to give us a clue what it was used for. Is there? Most people would have walked right by it without even noticing it was a tool.

One method to discover the function of an object is to closely examine it. I looked at both the distal and proximal polls. The proximal poll (smaller end) contained small surface indentations and pocking from use. The distal poll showed smoothed areas, possibly from grinding. It was also slightly flattened from use. Likely from pounding or grinding things. More sophisticated methods, such as microscopic use-wear analysis, would reveal even more about how these abrasions were made.

The base of the proximal poll of the grooved maul, showing indentations and pocking from pounding.
The base of the distal poll showing a combination of indentations but also smoothing on some grains, possibly from grinding something.

Another method we use to determine the function of an object are historic references and ethnographic sources. If an object was used in a certain manner historically, then it was also possibly used in the same way thousands of years ago. This is known as ethnographic analogy. It can be dangerous and it’s always best to use multiple lines of evidence before determining the function of an object.

In his journals explorer David Thompson mentioned First Nations women used stone hammers to smash up deadwood from the trees. According to early ethnographers, “The hammers were of two sorts: one quite heavy, almost like a sledge-hammer or maul, and with a short handle: the other much lighter, and with a longer, more limber handle. This last was used by men in war as a mace or war club, while the heavier hammer was used by women as an axe to break up fallen trees for firewood; as a hammer to drive tent-pins into the ground, to kill disabled animals, or to break up heavy bones for the marrow they contained.” (Grinnell, G. B. 1892. Blackfoot Lodge Tails; The Story of a Prairie People. Scribner, New York.)

This rare photograph of a Northwest Coast Kwakiutl warrior shows a rather larger, fearsome looking stone hand maul near his right arm. Northwest Coast First Nations peoples made a very sophisticated array of ground stone tools. The shapes and varieties of these mauls are considerably different than those used by people on the Canadian prairies. (From Hilary Stewart, 1973. Artifacts of the Northwest Coast Indians. Hancock House Publishers.)

There are other ways to determine the function of an object, which I discuss in later posts. However, first we have to talk about how these mauls were made. Based on ethnographic sources and examination of the stone hammer, the groove was made by patiently pecking, or grinding away at the stone with another preferably harder stone.

The question I often ask myself is why would anyone go through all the trouble to make a stone grooved maul to pound berries, meat and other things, when you can just pick up a suitable rock and use it to pound something, then discard it when you’re finished? You wouldn’t want to carry this object too far. My colleague, Robert Dawe, Royal Alberta Museum tells me that people used the mauls at campsites and left them there when they move. The mobile Kalahari bushmen did the same thing with their heavy metal axes.

There are a few possible reasons for carrying a maul with a hafted handle permanently: 1) warfare and defense; 2) it had sacred or symbolic meaning and was used in ceremonies; and, 3) it created more leverage and force. The American ethnographer George Bird Grinnell described an old Blackfoot man’s attempts to heal a sick child. He instructed two women to sit near the doorway of the tipi facing each other. “Each one held a puk-sah-tchis, [a maul] with which she was to beat in time to the singing” (Grinnell 1892:163) (In (Fedyniak and Giering, 2016).

A hafted grooved stone maul from rawhide and wood. A handle on this stone maul would create more leverage and force. The author of this post said it took about eight hours of pecking and grinding to form the groove on this fine-grained granite rock. From, ‘Sensible Survival’: https://sensiblesurvival.org/2012/04/28/make-a-hafted-stone-axe/

As I mentioned before, making ground stone tools is very labor-intensive. But, I have read few articles on just how much work it takes to make a stone maul. One researcher conducted an experiment to make a mortar from a basalt cobble. Below are some basic results of that research.

In this particular experiment, it took about two hours to peck a cavity about 8cm in diameter, 3cm deep into a basalt cobble. From, Andrea Squitieri and David Eitam, 2016. “An experimental approach to ground stone tool manufacture. Journal of Lithic Studies Vol. 3:553-564.
Pecking the mortar hole from a basalt cobble. From, Andrea Squitieri and David Eitam, 2016. “An experimental approach to ground stone tool manufacture. Journal of Lithic Studies Vol. 3:553-564.
Finishing the mortar by polishing it with water and basalt powder. Andrea Squitieri and David Eitam, 2016. “An experimental approach to ground stone tool manufacture. Journal of Lithic Studies Vol. 3:553-564.

I guess there’s only one way to find out how long it takes to make a grooved stone maul out of quartzite. And that is to make my own grooved stone maul. I’ve nothing but time on my hands during these Covid days. I mean, how hard can this be?

The Experiment

First I went down to my local river to find some suitable rock candidates to make a stone maul. What was I looking for? Having never made one, I wasn’t sure. I checked some of the mauls at the Royal Alberta Museum collections. They come in all shapes and sizes. And they are made from various types of rocks: granite, basalt, sandstone and quartzite. But, according to research at the Royal Alberta Museum, in Alberta, First Nations people used quartzite (67%) most often to make a stone maul (Fedyniak and Giering, 2016). The reasons? Quartzite was the hardest and most abundant rock available.

A sample of stone grooved mauls in the Royal Alberta Museum collections. This photograph is taken from an article by Kristine Fedyniak and Karen L. Giering, 2016. “More than meat: Residue analysis results of mauls in Alberta.” In: Back on the horse: Recent developments in archaeological and palaeontological research in Alberta. ARCHAEOLOGICAL SURVEY OF ALBERTA, OCCASIONAL PAPER No. 36.
Looking for suitable rocks to make a stone grooved maul along the south bank of the North Saskatchewan River, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. These rocks along the shore have eroded out of a higher layer of Saskatchewan Sands and Gravels. Although these deposits contain a variety of types of rocks of different sizes, by far the most common is quartzite, a hard metamorphic rock. I looked at thousands of rocks before picking one or two particular specimens.

After searching for some time, the cobble I finally decided on felt the right weight to pound things and was almost round and symmetrically shaped. This cobble was about 12cm high and 11cm wide. Before pecking, it weighed 1.38kg (3.0lbs).

The unmodified quartzite cobble I chose to make my grooved stone maul.

I’ve read some literature about stone tool pecking and grinding. According to most sources the hammer used to peck out the groove should be a harder material than the stone maul material. This is somewhat problematic since quartzite is a 7 on the Mohs hardness scale. Even granite is slightly softer being only around 6.5-6.6 on the Mohs hardness scale. And basalt is only a 6. This then posed the first problem. If prehistoric peoples were pecking and fashioning grooved stone mauls out of quartzite, then what were they using to make them? None of the local rocks in the Edmonton area were harder than quartzite.

And were they just pecking, or incising and grinding the grooves? The smooth finish on the stone maul I found didn’t help answer that question. When I used a magnifying glass I could see the granite granules were crushed and smoothed. Examination of the groove under a low-power microscope might tell me even more.

I chose these two rocks to peck and groove the maul. The one on the left is a granite (1.6lbs or 0.73kgs) and the one on the right is probably a quartzite (0.44lbs or 0.2kgs) (hard to tell with the cortex still on the rock). Only experimentation and time will tell whether these two rocks will work. I’m not that optimistic though.

I have no idea how long this will take. It may take weeks, or perhaps months. I’ll record the amount of time I spend pecking away, whether I peck or grind and how my pecking stones hold up. I’ll keep you posted on my progress, problems, success. We’ll turn this post into experimental archaeology, since there are still relatively few studies on how to make ground stone tools. Especially grooved mauls found on the Canadian prairies.

That’s it for now. Time to get to work….

The Viking Ribstones, near Viking, Alberta, Canada. In a former post (https://canehdianstories.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=1776&action=edit) I mentioned these sacred rocks have lines and holes pecked or incised into the stone. The lines depict the ribs of the buffalo. The holes possibly to kill the buffalo. An example of ground stone technology on a massive scale. I marvel at the amount of work that went into making these objects.

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The Puck Stops Here: A Canadian Hockey Story

Hockey captures the essence of Canadian experience in the New World. In a land so inescapably and inhospitably cold, hockey is the chance of life, and an affirmation that despite the deathly chill of winter we are alive.
Stephen Leacock

Pregame: The Dressing Room

Harry Reed finally arrived at the rink. A little late. It was a dark, chilly, -25C Alberta night. As he stepped into the dressing room, he was greeted with loud cheers, jeers, and hellos. And the strong smell of sweaty equipment seldomly laundered.

The boys cheered loudest when they had a full dressing room. Didn’t have to work so hard in the game. ‘Things sure change,’ thought Harry. ‘Years ago we hoped three or four guys wouldn’t show up. So we could get more ice-time.’

Harry looked for a spot to park his gear in the aged rink’s crowded dressing room. Judging by its size it was built for a team of twelve-year olds, not fully grown men. Finally squeezing himself in between two players, he looked around as his white-haired teammates (at least those with hair) dressed for the game. He saw knee braces, thick black plastic Hanson-like glasses, and other protective gear in sight. A set of crutches stood in one corner. Harry wondered about that. A necessary precaution?

Unlike younger teams preparing for the game, talk focused on who did the stupidest thing the last time out. There were always plenty of fodder for that topic. Tonight discussion focused around Frank’s defense of the team’s name, arguing that he tried to stay sweat-free when playing. This got a round of applause and some cheers from his teammates, the NeverSweats.

Finally, donning their jerseys with the team logo, NEVERSWEATS etched on them in big blue letters, their goalie, Howie, led the team onto the ice. Ready to do battle. Some, more with their own physical shortcomings than with the opposition.

First Period: A Slow Start

Harry and his line mates sat on the bench looking despondently on as the other team rushed down the ice, into their end, and put another puck past their goalie. Four goals in five shots. Looked like Howie was ‘fighting it’ again tonight. Whatever ‘it’ was. Right now Howie couldn’t stop a beach ball.

Someone on the bench mumbled the S***e-word, a good hundred feet from where Howie stood in net. A word you never said in the presence of a goalie. Howie suddenly looked at his bench, yelling. “I heard that, dammit. One of you jokers want to play in net?”

Of course none of the jokers on the bench responded. Why would anyone want to throw themselves in front of a hard, fast-moving missile that could hurt you? That just seemed counterintuitive to survival.

Everyone wondered though how a goalie, supposedly hard of hearing, picked up certain words about his goal-tending prowess, at that distance. Theories abounded. The man could read lips. He had the bench wired and was listening in. He wasn’t really deaf at all.

“Come on, boys, pick it up,” shouted Coach Larry. “They’re beating us to the puck.”

‘Pick it up, boys. Pick it up,’ thought Harry. He looked over at his center man, Big Dale. They both shared that knowing look. ‘Pick it up boys, pick it up.’ Their coach, whom they lovingly had dubbed, ‘Captain Obvious’ was living up to his name. If there was anything left to pick up they would have done so. Even at this age, losing wasn’t fun.

The half-dozen fans in the rink were also shouting, ‘Pick it up, boys.’ Obviously Larry’s relatives were in attendance.

As the first period ended, the score was four-nothing for the visitors. Harry wished Roger Neilson was coaching. By now he would have put a white towel on the end of a hockey stick, raised it, and waved in surrender. Harry looked around and noticed those towels neatly stacked behind Coach Larry, who it seemed, recalled a similar incident a half-dozen games ago. Well, that’s what coaches were for – to keep the troops in line and fighting.

https://theprovince.com/sports/hockey/nhl/vancouver-canucks/its-the-35th-anniversary-of-roger-neilson-waving-his-white-towel

First Intermission – And Relief

The players sat in the dressing room, backs slouched up against the wall, half listening to Coach Larry. Some of the players were already eyeing the beer cooler. But Coach would have none of it, deliberately sitting on it.

“Now, boys, I saw a bit of sloppy play out there. Clean it up and a little more back-checking and we’re right back in it.” Coach suddenly stopped talking and looked around. A squabble in the corner had broken out where a beach ball mysteriously appeared and was being thrown at Howie.

The rest of the team were politely nodding at Coach Larry’s sage advice, trying to avoid Howie’s glares, knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen. But Coach meant well. He became coach not because of his great insights into the game of hockey. As his last comment had just demonstrated. He often bought the team a round of beer after the game. Coaches like that were hard to find.

Plus, the boys felt bad for Coach Larry, perhaps also thinking about their own rather fragile invincibility. After blowing his knee out Coach couldn’t play anymore. He missed the boys, the camaraderie, and needed to be around the rink to stay happy.

Coach Larry, now standing but still keeping one foot firmly planted on the beer cooler, exclaimed. “And another thing boys. Stop Malone. He’s killing us. Slow him down, get in his way. Dan, whisper in his ear how you’re going to get him. You’re good at that sort of thing.

Harry looked at Dan and rolled his eyes. Dan was good at that sort of thing. Like a loose cannon out there running into everything that moved. Including his teammates. It didn’t matter.

“But coach, I can’t whisper in his ear. I can’t get near him. He’s too bloody fast. I could maybe yell at him to slow down. Or bribe him with a beer. I mean the guy had a tryout with the Oilers.”

The rest of the team nodded. Malone was hopeless. And with Howie in net. Well, the score could get really ugly.

The whistle finally blew to start of the second period. Everyone put away their smelling salts, re-taped their wobbly knees, and rubbed ointment on their already aching bodies. Thankfully now the smell of ointment, instead of smelly equipment, pervaded the room. Time to stop Malone. At least yell at him to slow down.

Coach left the room last to make sure nobody got into the beer on the way out.

Second Period: Overcoming Adversity

As Harry stepped onto the ice for his warm-up skate, there was a roar of laughter behind him. He looked back to see his defenceman, Tim, lying on the ice. Most of his teammates were bent over the boards howling with laughter. The four remaining fans were also having a good laugh.

Coach Larry looked on with feigned concern. The boys weren’t taking the game too seriously. Always a bad sign. Meanwhile, Tim was still on the ice, struggling to get up until someone suggested he take his skate guards off first.

The other team now watching, all slapped their sticks on the ice in appreciation as Tim finally stood. The sportsmanship displayed at these games was often inspiring. Especially when the other team’s foolishness threatened the integrity of the game.

The second period started much like the first. Malone was tearing the ice up. And Howie was still having trouble seeing the puck. Mumbling and complaining bitterly about the lights and shadows. No one said anything. If Howie saw shadows, so be it.

“Jeez, it’s f*****g cold in this rink. What’s the temperature do you think, Harry?”

“Well, Gerry, if it’s -25C outside, then I figure it’s about -27C inside. I don’t know their secret but they seem to be able to keep it colder inside than outside.” Right above the team bench hung a line of gas heaters. But these were never turned on for Beer League hockey.

The boys laughed at that one. This started stories about playing in cold weather. Harry remembered one time in Swift Current. “We were about ten years old and playing on an outdoor rink in January. It was hellish cold. There was a stiff breeze making little snowdrifts on the ice. Occasionally we had to stop play to remove them. Our feet were froze solid by the end of the first period. After the game the moms and dads of eleven screaming kids were carefully trying to pry their skates off.”

“Are you guys going to play hockey or jabber?,” barked Larry. “Keep it up and you’ll miss your shift.”

“Personally, I’d like to just sit and jabber the way this game’s going,” whispered Harry to Big Dale.

“I heard that,” yelled Larry. Pick it up, boys, pick it up.” Larry’s hearing seemed as acute as Howie’s.

Then the NeverSweats got their first break of the game. Dan managed to somehow bump into Malone as he was careening down the ice. It really was an accident of sorts. Trying desperately to stick-check the speedster, Dan did a toe pick, followed by a rather awkward pirouette, crashing into Malone, sending him flying into the boards. Dan was ejected from the game. Malone never returned.

With Malone gone the momentum of the game changed. The NeverSweats picked it up. And Howie suddenly regained his vision. The puck now looked as big as a beach ball. He stopped everything. That little training session during the last intermission had kicked in.

Near the end of the period, Don had a breakaway. He rushed toward the opposition goalie, head down all the way, and let fly. Never once looking at the net, or where he was shooting. He focused only on not losing the puck off his stick. That would have brought a hail of laughter from the bench.

The puck hit the motionless goalie square in the logo. Don cursed, but ever the sportsman, slapped the goalie on the pads after, what seemed to him, a great save. Laughter burst out from both benches.

The referee blew his whistle to end the second period. The NeverSweats had closed the gap to within one goal.

No Second Intermission: The Beer is Safe

There was no regular second intermission. Just a short break. The remaining fans had seen enough and had gone home. The ice was still pretty clean and didn’t require a flood. As fatigue set in sudden stops and starts diminished. Instead, the players used long gliding turns to change direction. Creating little snow on the ice.

During the break the referee disappeared into his small dressing room.

“What the hell does he do in there every break? Weak bladder, or what?” The team had their suspicions, but no one said anything. It seemed though, as the game progressed, the referee’s vision was becoming a lot like Howie’s. But, getting a regular referee was almost harder than finding a goalie. Even one who couldn’t always see well.

Big Dale, Harry’s center, was leaning over the boards urging the boys on. Now mouthing Coach’s words,”Come on guys, if we pick it up a bit, we can beat these guys.”

Everyone went through the motions of buying in. Even though most minds were already on the ice-cold beer in the dressing room.

Then John, standing beside Big Dale, bent over and closely examined his gloves. “Heh, big guy, where did you get those gems? Museum? Are they hockey gloves or jousting gauntlets? They nearly cover your elbows. I mean, who even sells those things anymore? They look like they’re right out of the fifties or sixties.” The others now looked on, chuckling.

“I get them where I buy all my equipment. At the local Sally Ann thrift store. Fifteen bucks. You can’t beat that.”

“Well, Dale, they certainly blend in nicely with that trendy Jofa helmet and that straight-lasted wood stick. Do you get your sticks custom-made? Who still sells wood straight-lasted sticks?”

More chuckling. Dale was forever stuck in the 60’s. He would remain there until the day he died. Once they quit making straight-lasted sticks, Dale would retire from hockey.

Finally the referee appeared, a big smile on his face, and blew his whistle to start the third period.

Before starting, Coach Larry had a few parting words for his troops. “Let’s see if we can break out of our own end a little cleaner, boys. One time we couldn’t get out for two shifts.

Martin, the team wise-ass (at least for this game), put Coach’s mind at ease. “That’s a set play, Coach. It’s a trap of sorts. Lots of teams we play fall into it. We trap them in our end, and don’t let them out, until their arms and legs get weary. Then we break out. Or when they score. Whichever comes first.” The others thought this an exceedingly clever cover-up for having no plan whatsoever on how to get out of their end.

Third Period: The Comeback?

The referee dropped the puck and surprisingly play picked up. A sort of Old-timer urgency had set into the game. There were actually some stops and starts again. Plumes of frozen breath shot into the air as players battled for the puck. And low and behold! Sweat broke out among the ranks of the NeverSweats. This rarely happened, especially on a cold winter night in the Ice Palace.

The other team was feeling it too. During the brief intermission some players went to their dressing room to don more clothing. Or so it appeared.

Harry and his line mates looked on as the Rusty Nuts looked rustier by the minute. “Remember that time, boys, when we played at the Mall rink. It was -35C outside so we put on extra layers of underwear for the game.”

“Ya, I remember that one,” said Big Dale. “Nearly died of heat exhaustion by the second period. That was a real weapon that team had. Nothing like this Ice Palace.”

“More like a Sweat Palace. And the worst ice in the City. And the costliest from what I heard. It was like skating in putty. And the space behind the net was narrower than in other rinks. I remember when I first played there, watching the beauty of my pass one time, and running into the back boards cracking three ribs.”

Coach Larry shouted, “Next line. Come on boys, get out there and score.” As if anyone on this team could score at will.

“His memory is sure short,” whispered Dale. “Is that what happens when you quit playing and start coaching? You get a memory transplant. They replace the ‘player’ chip with a ‘coaching’ chip?” Dale stopped talking when he saw Coach giving him a steely stare.

Big Dale won the face-off in their end. Back to his defenceman and then over to Harry. Harry deftly chipped it up the boards to an already breaking Dale. Dale, now one-on-one with the D-man, made his custom power swoop beating him cleanly. As he moved towards the goalie he did some little thing with his stick and wrists, putting the puck over the goalie’s shoulder into the net. Harry vaguely remembered having to do something similar with his straight-lasted stick years ago to raise the puck. He didn’t remember exactly what it was anymore. Dale could score with that stick.

4-4. The only cheering Dale heard was from the players on his bench. The rest of the rink was silent except for the Zamboni getting ready to flood the ice. Two minutes left. Could the NeverSweats hang on? Maybe even win?

Sitting on the bench, Harry overheard his second line talking strategy. There seemed to be some disagreement on how to generate more offense in the other team’s end. Eric, their center man was explaining attacking tactics to his teammates, “I said dump-and-chase, guys. Not dump-and-watch. We need to pressure them in their end more.”

His winger, Trevor, responded, “Well, we’re kinda playing the neutral zone trap by staying high. Don’t want to get caught too deep in their end.” A now exasperated Eric said nothing. There was no use.

The boys were tiring. “Hurry, get up, Al. Get in the box. We’ve got too many men on the ice.” A tired Al had fallen near the team bench and was desperately trying to get off the ice. Just as he got up, a line mate bumped him and down he went again. As he tried the second time, he stepped on his stick and went down once more. Finally, a now exhausted, desperate Al gave up and just crawled the rest of the way into the team bench. There were howls of laughter from both sides. The referee looked the other way, letting the play go on.

Now with only thirty seconds left in the game, Len, their best D-man decided take matters into his own hands to get out of his end. His forwards had the offensive trap play firmly working in their end. He was making another move around an opponent, between his blue line and the center line, when a Rusty Nut stripped him off the puck and went in on Howie for a breakaway.

Players on both benches stood up and watched, holding their breaths. After a few deft moves, cleanly beating Howie, the player shot the puck at an open-looking net. Howie, however, had lost his balance and now went into to his last-effort Dominique Hashik move. Falling backwards into the net, his glove hand shot out, somehow catching the puck.

https://www.google.com/search?q=domonique+hashik&client=firefox-b-d&sxsrf=ALeKk00z7aATJcHRE8FL1FCZOo1XrcqaTQ:1619184660681&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=yOf93VStuHTY4M%252CRPVIfOom5dMCfM%252C_&vet=1&usg=AI4_-kSoPOG_lrlKISpgqrhcRj52MsxBtw&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwje3Zn0vJTwAhUJgp4KHUBZDTgQ9QF6BAgSEAE&biw=1279&bih=667#imgrc=yOf93VStuHTY4M&imgdii=qjJ6hOr3sQ6KTM

The referee blew his whistle. The game was over.

Howie was mobbed by his teammates, congratulating him on the incredible save. With time it would become the best save ever made in the minds of the guys watching. Soon to join Old Timers hockey lore.

As the teams were shaking hands, a few of the Rusty Nuts mumbled something about ‘fluky goalie’ just as Howie was about to step off the ice. “I heard that. Nothing fluky about it.”

Harry bent towards one of the Rusty Nut players. “How’s your goalie’s hearing….”

The ‘After-Flow’

There was lots of shouting and backslapping in the dressing room. You’d thought the boys actually won the game. Or the Stanley Cup. The beer was flowing freely and and stories began, breaking down the game. Trying to recreate and suck out every enjoyable minute from it. The bad parts were already forgotten.

It usually took longer to get out of the dressing room than to play the game. This became somewhat problematic if you played at seven AM on a Sunday morning. And started drinking beer at eight-thirty. Fortunately the NeverSweats had an evening ice-time. But it still needed to be carefully explained to wives and girlfriends that the post-game decompression ritual was an absolute necessity in hockey. It took hours to re-hydrate and return to normal after a strenuous workout like that.

Harry was sitting in the corner, Big Dale beside him, listening to the stories. And watching the new player, Norm, sitting off in the other corner, by himself. “Has he ‘thawed out’ yet?,” asked Harry, nodding towards Norm.

“Don’t know, Harry. Was he frozen?”

“Don’t be so thick, Dale. You know what I mean.”

“There’s hope. He’s still in a bit of shock. Leaving his former younger team, and walking into a dressing room looking more like an old folks home. I was. He’s not fighting it like some guys who think they can still make the NHL. It takes time.”

Suddenly one of the players got up, raising his beer towards Norm in the corner. “Here’s to Norm, guys. Saved at least one goal tonight on that two-on-one.” Norm, now jolted out of wherever his mind was, beamed with delight.

‘Ya, he’ll be alright,’ thought Harry. ‘All the guy really wants is to be part of the team, no matter what age or level he’s playing.’

Then Harry remembered a very blurry image of the Cabri Bulldogs crest and joining the local senior men’s team in Cabri, Saskatchewan at the age of sixteen. He was young and scared. And just wanted to fit in too with the older guys.

Harry rummaged around in his hockey bag and pulled out the now nearly 50-year old Bulldog jersey. He just didn’t have the heart to toss it. Too many memories in that sweater reminding him not only of the game but his teammates. Maybe that’s why Dale kept that ancient equipment.

He looked at his sweater, then at Dale’s gloves, helmet, and stick. “Dale, I think my old team sweater goes nicely with your equipment. Same vintage.” They both had a chuckle and talked more about their early days playing hockey.

Finally Harry stood and raised his can of beer to the his teammates . “Here’s to the best game in the world, boys. I guess the puck stops here.

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EndNote

An increasing number of older men are playing hockey in Canada. And I’m that with time, more senior women will continue to play. Accurate statistics for Old Timer Hockey for the entire Country are hard to come by. But judging from the local Edmonton scene, Old Timer’s hockey is on the rise. To the point where it is getting increasingly harder to accommodate everyone. Fort example, the Vintage Hockey League which I had played in had three levels, based on a combination of both age and skill. The third tier contains some players in their eighties.

I used two team names, the Rusty Nuts and the NeverSweats, in this story. They nicely reflect both the age and the nature of Old Timer hockey teams. These were/are still actual team names. The Rusty Nuts were an Edmonton-based team in the 1990s (and they may still be around). The NeverSweats are an Old Timers Lloydminster team. They never seemed to sweat when they played us.

Many of us have gathered numerous great hockey stories over the years. While this story is mostly a work of fiction, some of the incidents happened during my time in Old Timer’s hockey. There are many more stories out there, as you can imagine; some are best not to repeat. I’m sure that if I interviewed those of you who played the game over the decades, I could fill a book of some pretty good Canadian hockey memories. It’s been a project on my mind for a while now. Perhaps some day it will come to fruition.

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Stone Piles on the Western Plains of Canada

This story is dedicated to the late John H. Brumley (1946 – 2020), an archaeologist, who categorized and researched the many stone medicine wheels on the Northern Great Plains. His efforts have enriched Canadian history.

https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/name/john-brumley-obituary?pid=196525915
The northern Great Plains of Canada contain many places where rocks seem to grow out of the ground. At least according to the local farmers who year after year painstakingly picked them off their fields only to find new ones in the spring. Rock piles along roadsides and fields are a common sight in Alberta, Canada. This view is from near the Rumsey medicine wheel with the Hand Hills on the far distant horizon.

When I was a little kid, I would walk with my dad and pick rocks off the fields in southwestern Saskatchewan. We would toss them onto the stone boat and then dump them on a large pile along the edge of the field. These rock piles are still a common sight when driving along the country roads on the western Canadian prairies.

But, other piles of rocks on the northern Great Plains of Canada, particularly in Alberta, are not the product of seemingly endless rock picking. These are referred to as ‘medicine wheels‘. Or, “atsot-akeeh” (from all sides) by the Blackfoot.

The term ‘medicine wheel’ originated from the Bighorn medicine wheel, located on top of Medicine Mountain, near Lovell, Wyoming. Today it refers to numerous stone alignments with a central hub, spokes and circles found on the Northern Great Plains of North America. Image from: https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/bighorn-medicine-wheel.
Various types and configurations of medicine wheels. A medicine wheel is made mostly from unmodified natural stone and must have a combination of at least two of the following primary components: 1) a prominent, central stone cairn of varying size; 2) one or more concentric stone rings, generally circular; and, 3) two or more stone lines radiating out from a central point of origin, central cairn or the margin of a stone ring. (This image and definition taken from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal.” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

According to First Nations informants, these ancient stone features had religious and spiritual significance. They were often markers where prominent individuals died and occasionally were interred. Some informants claimed the spokes pointed to hunting or warpaths. Scholars think the spokes and ancillary cairns pointed to important times of the year, much like Stonehenge. Still others believe the functions of these alignments changed over the centuries.

By 1988 John Brumley had compiled a list of 67 medicine wheels in western Canada and the United States which he then categorized and described in the monograph cited below. Many more likely existed but were cleared off land intended for agriculture. Additional wheels may have been added to this list since 1988. Most medicine wheels occur in Canada, and primarily in Alberta. (Map from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal.” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

Some medicine wheels may not have been single-event constructions. Instead, rocks were gradually added to the cairn and spokes for many years. The Suitor No. 2 medicine wheel in Alberta had eighteen spokes, some over thirty metres long, radiating out from a central ring.

EgOx-1, Suitor No. 2 medicine wheel, east-central Alberta, is of considerable proportions, containing additional stone circles and a possible effigy. (Image from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

Others, such as the rather sizeable Bighorn medicine wheel in Wyoming and Majorville medicine wheel in southern Alberta, would have taken a long time to build and/or a considerable number of people to assemble them.

Perhaps one of the most complex and elaborate medicine wheels in North America, the Bighorn medicine wheel is still mainly intact. However, the middle cairn was vandalized and the area around the wheel is highly disturbed. Researchers believe the outside ancillary cairns had an astronomical function. (Image from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)
Lacking any ethnographic accounts, the Majorville medicine wheel (and others) was partially excavated to better understand its age and function. When excavating this wheel, archaeologist Jim Calder found that it was built over a period of 5,000 years. A few of the many artifacts recovered were for ceremonial and spiritual purposes including the presence of red ochre in the central cairn. (Image from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

Keeping an Eye on My Children: Respect the Stone Piles

On my way to Empress, Alberta last week I stopped at the Rumsey medicine wheel. As a previous Parkland Archaeologist for the Government of Alberta, once responsible for archaeological sites in this area, I have visited Rumsey many times, occasionally alone or with Blackfoot elders and interested parties. This medicine wheel, like many others, sits at the highest point in the region. It is located close to the Red Deer River Valley.

The Rumsey medicine wheel, near Rumsey, Alberta, Canada. The cairn, like many others, has been vandalized. It did contain human remains.
A drawing of the Rumsey medicine wheel. Part of the outer ring of the cairn is missing, probably from vandalism, or was still being constructed. The two excavation pits are from looting and vandalism. (Image from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)
Prairie crocuses in full bloom near the Rumsey medicine wheel.
Nothing but blue sky and a great view. Like others, the Rumsey medicine wheel sits on the most prominent hill in the region, just east of the Red Deer River. From this point, you can see the surrounding countryside for many miles. These high places may have been chosen as vantage points and for spiritual reasons, but also practical ones. Imagine walking across the open prairies trying to find this particular spot. The Red Deer River acted as a linear reference point. Once you found it, you could then more easily find these high points along it.
The British Block medicine wheel on the Suffield Military Range near Medicine Hat, Alberta, has been badly messed with. People made their initials from the rocks, destroying parts of the original stone outer ring. If you look at about two o’clock just inside the outer circle, you will see a stone effigy or human figure. Artifacts found in the cairn suggest the medicine wheel dates back thousands of years. (Image from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

Markers for Important Places, People, and Events

There are still several undisturbed stone tipi rings near the Rumsey medicine wheel. And perhaps many more were there before rocks were cleared off the land for agriculture. Many medicine wheels were important places where people came back repeatedly over the centuries for a variety of reasons.

At other places in Alberta, such as the forks of the Red Deer and South Saskatchewan Rivers, medicine wheels were part of a much larger First Nations land use history. This was an important place for people for centuries, leaving behind not only medicine wheels but stone effigies, countless stone tipi rings and extensive stone drive lanes for antelope and buffalo.

The bull’s forehead on the hills in the foreground, on the south bank of the South Saskatchewan River. A prominent hill at the confluence of the Red Deer and South Saskatchewan Rivers, near the Saskatchewan-Alberta border. This area of the northern Great Plains contains considerable evidence of an Indigenous presence going back thousands of years.
These two prominent hills (on the north side) occur near the confluence of the Red Deer and South Saskatchewan Rivers. The Roy Rivers medicine wheel sits on the highest hill on the left. From the highway, these hills are well over a mile away but the stone mounds are visible on the top. Most medicine wheels were recently named after places and people. They likely had First Nations names, now lost to us.
Close-up view of the Roy Rivers medicine wheel looking south. The larger main central cairn of rocks is on the highest point and a lesser stone cairn sits west of it. One of the chief factors, limiting where these stone features could be built, was the presence of rocks. There were plenty of those in this area just north of the ‘forks’ in Saskatchewan.
A view from the edge of the Red Deer Valley with the Roy Rivers medicine wheel in the distance on the horizon. There are ample rocks and boulders strewn on the prairie surface in this part of Saskatchewan.
The Roy Rivers medicine wheel is unusual with an aisle or doorway oriented towards the south. The wheel contains a stone effigy at approximately ten o’clock near the inside of the outer ring. Within the wheel are fifteen small stone cairns, possibly for astronomical purposes. (Image from “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

A Unique Piece of Canadian History

These rock alignments and features are important and unique pieces of Canadian history. Once disturbed or removed, they are forever lost to us. However, they are not always appreciated or respected by people who visit them. This is all too evident from the amount of disturbance to them.

I leave the last words, about the significance and meaning of these stone features, to a few Blackfoot informants, whose people were likely responsible for the construction of most of the medicine wheels in Alberta:

“I heard that when they buried a real chief, one that the people loved, they would pile rocks around the edge of his lodge and then place rows of rocks out from his burial tipi. The rock lines show that everybody went there to get something to eat. He is inviting someone every day. People went there to live off him.” (Adam White Man, South Peigan. From “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

“…the lines of rock show the different direction in which they go on the warpath – they were the dead chief’s war deeds. If they kill someone, they pile rocks at the end of the rock line. If there is no rock pile present, then they just go to the enemy. Short lines are short trips.” (Kim Weasel Tail. From “Medicine Wheels on the Northern Plains: A Summary and Appraisal,” by John H. Brumley, 1988. Archaeological Survey of Alberta, Manuscript Series No. 12)

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CA-NA-DA’S Pied Piper Visits Small Town Saskatchewan

Canada’s Pied Piper, Bobby Gimby, somewhere in Canada, 1967, leading a group of children in one of the many parades he marched in that year. http://www.bobbygimby.com/#gallery_1-8

I grew up in Cabri, Saskatchewan. A community in southwestern Saskatchewan, so small some said the trains didn’t stop there, only slowed down.

Like most prairie kids, I lived hockey, curling and the Saskatchewan Roughriders. Fishing and hunting were on the top of the list too. But unlike many Canadian kids I was fortunate enough to play in a real brass band. The Cabri Brass Band. Formed in 1917 and disbanded in 2007.

You won’t find much information on this rather iconic band if you google it. In 1967, it was one of the few true brass bands in Canada. None of those reedy-sounding clarinets or squawky saxophones. Flutes? Are you kidding. Only brass instruments and drums. Majorettes, marching and lots of parades.

I was about ten years old when I started in the band. I played the trombone. Or should I say, blew into it and occasionally the right notes came out.

The year 1967 was an important year for Canada and for the Cabri Brass Band. The band turned fifty years old and Canada one-hundred. It was time to celebrate. In style. Like never before. We needed something special for this occasion.

And that something special turned out to be none other than Canada’s Pied Piper, Bobby Gimby. Author and arranger of the famous Canada Song. He was invited to come to Cabri, Saskatchewan to play his song with the Cabri Brass Band that started his career many years earlier. And rumor had it we might get to play with him.

Bobby Gimby

A teenage Bobby Gimby (left) smoking cigars with his buddies in Cabri, Saskatchewan. On the far right is Cliff Peterson. Next to Cliff might be Tom Lyster. The fellow next to Gimby has not been identified. http://www.bobbygimby.com/#gallery_1-1

Born on October 25, 1918 in Cabri, Saskatchewan, Bobby Gimby went on to become a successful professional musician and songwriter in Eastern Canada. But deep down Bobby was a prairie boy. Honest, humble and pretty down to earth.

A story in the Cabri Herald described the Gimby family as very talented musicians. Bobby in particular. Bobby joined the Cabri Brass Band at age ten and played until 1935 when the family moved to Chilliwack, British Columbia. As his neighbor Harvey Peacock recalls, Bobby honed his skills with his trumpet often practicing in his back yard. Why the back yard? Harvey thought because his mom threw him out of the house whenever he practiced.

Photo courtesy of the Cabri Herald. The Cabri Brass Band, c.1933. Bobby and his brother are seated in the first row.

“His big break came in 1941 when he joined Mart Kenney and His Western Gentlemen as lead trumpeter and toured the country. That was followed in 1945 by a starring role in CBC radio’s “Happy Gang,” a gig that lasted through the 1950s. He capped the decade as musical director for the popular “Juliette” show on CBC television.” (from the Saskatoon StarPhoenix, July 4, 2017 )

Bobby Gimby, lead trumpet and his orchestra on board the S. S. Brant. http://www.bobbygimby.com/#gallery_1-4
Bobby Gimby (middle row, far right) and the Happy Gang. A long-time item on CBC radio. http://www.bobbygimby.com/#gallery_1-6

Bobby was asked to write a song for Canada’s centennial. And boy did he deliver. “I was terribly worried, because I knew the government was taking a gamble by going into show business,” Gimby recalls. “But after we’d marched in the rain to the train and given our performance, I saw a little old lady wiping tears from her eyes and she was saying, ‘I’m so proud to be a Canadian.’ I thought to myself, ‘Holy cow! We’ve scored a bull’s-eye.” http://expo67.ncf.ca/expo_gimby.html

“I’ve never seen anything like it during my 20 years in the Canadian music publishing business,” says Thompson president John Bird. “Three-year-old kids are dancing to it. High school swimming classes want to swim to it. Bike riders want to cycle to it, and drum corps want arrangements so they can beat a tattoo to it. By the end of 1967, I predict every school choir, every school band, every family with a piano in the parlor, will be playing it.” http://expo67.ncf.ca/expo_gimby.html

Bobby Gimby went on to record the largest selling recording in Canadian history. Secretary of State, Judy LaMarsh presenting Bobby with the award for his efforts. http://www.bobbygimby.com/#gallery_1-23

Bobby Gimby Comes Home

The Cabri Brass Band, around 1967. I’m in that trombone section somewhere. Probably in the back, because I played too loud.

The question was, if invited, would he come? Fortunately he still had many friends and acquaintances in Cabri, including our then band leader, Albert (Bert) Culham.

Albert (Bert) Culham my band leader throughout my time with the Cabri Brass Band. (Courtesy Michelle Culham)
Bobby Gimby playing his Canada song with the Cabri Brass Band, c.1967. (Courtesy Cabri Herald)

But Bobby didn’t forget his Saskatchewan roots. In March, 1967 he returned to Cabri to play with the Cabri Brass Band. He also marched with us at the Moose Jaw Kinsman Band Festival. Band majorette, Nancy Scott, recalls that Bobby, when offered a car to ride in for the parade, refused, marched and played with us instead.

Bobby wasn’t just an excellent musician, he was a superb entertainer. That infectious smile never left his face. He was a natural with those kids.

Bobby Gimby gave each member of the Cabri Brass Band a signed brochure of his Canada song. (Courtesy Michelle Culham)

The one thing I remember about him, when he played he was having a good time. He marched proudly with us, his old brass band, as we wound our way around the streets of Cabri and in the Moose Jaw Band Festival parade. I played that Canada song so many times that day, my lips turned purple and numb.

Bobby Gimby’s comments about the Canada Song: “The idea first came to me when I was playing an orchestra date at Manoir Richelieu in La Malbaie, Que., back in the summer of 1964,” he replies. “On St. Jean Baptiste Day I saw about 50 kids parading through the streets. The boys were dressed in quaint sacking material, and the girls had flowers in their hair, and they were all singing some delightful folk song in French.” http://expo67.ncf.ca/expo_gimby.html

Bobby said he was thrilled at how he was received in Cabri. The people of Cabri, “…spread the red carpet for me down on the gumbo mud and – oh, boy! – actually presented me with the key to the city.” http://expo67.ncf.ca/expo_gimby.html

The ever-humble Bobby Gimby thanking Bert Culham for the opportunity to visit Cabri and play with the band. (Courtesy Michelle Culham.)
Perhaps my favorite photograph of Bobby Gimby surrounded by young Canadians. A truly an iconic moment in Canadian history. (Courtesy Getty Images).

In 1967, in recognition for his work for Canada’s centennial, Bobby Gimby was made an Officer of the Order of Canada, and was named Broadcaster of the Year. In 1968, he was awarded two Lloyd E. Moffat Memorial Awards, for Best Middle-of-the-Road Record and Best Example of Canadian Originality and Creativity.

Bobby left us on June 20th, 1998, at age 79.

Here’s to you Bobby, and your great legacy. And personally, I’ve had some wonderful Canadian moments. Few surpass those few days playing with the Cabri Brass Band, and Canada’s Pied Piper, Bobby Gimby.

EndNote

It’s been over fifty years ago since we marched and played with Bobby Gimby. As someone interested in how our collective histories are passed on, this story was a bit of an eyeopener. I asked over half-dozen people, who experienced those few days with Bobby, to give me a few of their personal thoughts on the event. Only one person recalled some personal stuff not written in the newspapers. The rest of us, myself included, had trouble recalling some of our own experiences with this man. Without a strong oral history, if not written down during the moment, it’s hard to reconstruct the smaller aspects of that time.