During most of human history, hominins (that’s us, and all prehistoric humans before us) selected animals, and parts of animals, containing the most fat. Or, the most calories packed into the least amount of meat. For purely survival reasons, before the advent of agriculture and domestication (which did not occur in many parts of the world) the name of the game was to consume the richest foods possible, whenever possible.
“We Eat Everything Except the Manure.”
(Explorer, Peter Fidler, 1801, describing eating wild game, while traveling with the Dene in northern Alberta and the North West Territories, Canada)
Our Present Canadian Diet
FOOD. As Canadians we often take it for granted. For most of us, there’s always something to eat. Just a matter of selecting from the hundreds of different foods and dishes available.
And when it comes to the Canadian diet and the role animal fat plays in it, warning bells go off. BE AWARE. We’re told to eat it in minimal amounts. Because it’s bad for you.
However, for most of human history, that was not always the case. For example, in traditional Inuit diets, approximately 50% of their calories came from fat, 30–35% from protein and 15–20% from carbohydrates. Animal fat also ruled in the Canadian fur trade.
The 18th and 19th Century Canadian Diet
During the eighteenth and most of the nineteenth centuries, in western Canada, a wide variety of wild game animals provided First Nations peoples and Euro-Canadians with most of their calories. In eastern Canada during this time, domestic animals and agriculture had largely replaced wild animals and plants in peoples’ diet.
In western Canada, animal fat was highly desirable and sought after. At the fur trade forts, wild game meat and fat was even doled out according to social class. Ironically, the hard working fort employees who needed it most, received the least amounts.
In 1832, at the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Fort Vermilion, Northern Alberta, for example, Company employees received following meat rations:
Category
Fresh Meat
Dried Meat
Pounded Meat
Grease
Officers Mess(2 people)
2,250 lbs
57 lbs
57 lbs
105 lbs
Officers Families (6 adults)
4,283
159
6
108
Engages (8 people)
7,752
576
576
18
Engages Families (3 adults)
2,612
148
148
4
Note: From the above table, calories derived from animal fat versus animal protein is estimated to be ~4:1
At Fort Vermilion, each officer consumed about 1,125 pounds of fresh meat a year, or approximately three pounds (1.4 kilograms) per day. Each worker consumed 969 pounds per year. This figure does not include the dried and pounded meat, or fat. That’s about three bison per year, folks. Hard to imagine eating that much meat now. Every day.
Other historic references suggest that Company employees ate even more meat than listed above. For us these numbers are truly staggering. But also very difficult to verify:
“The ordinary ration, under these circumstances [no flour or vegetables] at any of the Hudson Bay Company posts is either three large white fish, or three rabbits, or two pounds of pemmican, or three pounds of dried meat, or eight pounds of fresh buffalo meat per day per man.” (Alexander Sutherland, 1888)
Along the Saskatchewan River, where forts had access to the vast herds of Plains Bison, an enormous amount of meat was needed to feed the fort occupants for a year:
“Daily requirements for the fort – approx. 20 men, 11 women, 19 children, 36 train dogs. Of fresh meat – the tongues, bosses, ribs and fore and hind quarters of 3 animals.” (From the journals of Issac Cowie in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, 1867 -74) Total bison/year = 1095.
At the North West Company’s Fort George in Alberta, Clerk Duncan M’Gillivray noted: “…we have finished a Glaciere containing 500 thighs & shoulders for the consumption of April & beginning of May…” (From the journal of Duncan M’Gillivray, at Fort George 1793-94)
Also, First Nations traded huge amounts of meat to this fort:
Article (lbs)
Traded from Indians & C
Supplied the Factory
Expended
Remains
Buffalo Meat
26,230
“
19,673
6,557
Buffalo Fat
2,900
2,500
400
“
Pemmican
7,200
7,200
“
“
And over two hundred years later, this is what the archaeological record at these Fortes des Prairies looks like. Both photographs are from the North West Company Fort George (c.1792-1800), central Alberta. In the top image we found a cellar filled with animal bone. In the bottom image, this line of bone lies along the fort palisade wall. These early Saskatchewan River forts were ‘meat factories’, processing tens of thousands of pounds of meat to make pemmican for the Company canoe brigades. Imagine what this place must have smelled like in the spring and summer months. There are many theories why these forts were abandoned relatively shortly after being built. According to most documents, animal populations were soon decimated near the fort requiring a move. But the ‘Stink Factor’ must have played a role for an early exit as well.
The More Fat, the Better
Fort occupants ate a variety of game animals. Lynx, bear, dog, wolf, porcupine, squirrel, skunk, owls, muskrat, varying hare, raccoons, beaver, elk, caribou, moose and bison. Also a variety of fish (especially whitefish) and waterfowl.
“…a rich, agreeable, and very wholesome fish (whitefish), that never palls the appetite; and is preferable, and other fish of this country…” (from the journals of Sir John Richardson, surgeon and explorer)
“…ducks of various kinds, which having shed their feathers, are easily killed in the numerous lakes and ponds. The larger ducks are generally fat at this season, the young of the year are lean and insipid.” (from the journals of Alexander Henry (the younger), Fort White Earth, Saskatchewan River, central Alberta)
Sometimes the consumption of some rather unorthodox critters got just a little out of hand. Explorer Samuel Hearne describes one such incident: “…the warbles out of the deer’s backs, and the domestic lice, were the only two things I ever saw my companions eat, of which I could not, or did not, partake. I trust I shall not be reckoned over-delicate in my appetite.” (from Samuel Hearne’s diaries)
While it’s hard to imagine eating something like this warble off an animal, hunger often trumps all. As Peter Fidler’s rather blunt words suggest, when people are driven to extremes of hunger they will eat almost anything. And, at some of the northern fur trade posts, near starvation situations occasionally occurred.
“Friday gave the men a parchment skin to eat – a Canadian that came home from the hunting tent informed me that the hunters was all starving as they could kill no cattle [bison].” (HBC trader, Thomas Swain, Mansfield House, 1802, near Fort Vermilion, Alberta)
On the other end of the extreme, Company employees often had considerable choice and selection of wild game. Whenever possible they chose the fattiest animals, and selected the parts of the animal that contained the most fat.
Fatty, and Fat Animals
The large plains and woodland bison provided First Nations and first Euro-Canadians with considerable amounts of meat. A two year old bison weighs approximately 850 pounds, yielding about 300 pounds of usable meat.
Some game animals were fatter during certain times of the year. The flesh of some animals contained more fat than others any time of the year. According to fur trade records, bison tasted best when fat:
“We killed a great many buffalo, which were all in good condition, and feasted…..luxuriously upon the delicate tongues, rich humps, fat roasts, and savory steaks of this noble and excellent species of game….We had found the meat of the poor buffalo the worst diet imaginable, and in fact grew meager and gaunt in the midst of plenty and profusion. But in proportion as they became fat, we grew strong and hearty…” (from S. Phillips 1940:42)
The fat of some animals were considered inferior to others:
“The Red Deer is next in size to the Moose, but it is not equal to it in its delicious flavor, on account of the peculiar quality of the fat, which turns cold so very fast, that a person must eat it the instant that it is taken from the fire, and even then the mouth is sometimes lined with a grease of the consistence of tallow.” (from the journals of Edward Umfreville, trader, 1790)
The Canadian Beaver, economic driver of 18th and 19th century Canada. Valued for both its fur and its meat. Sometimes the fort workers valued its meat far more than its fur.
Not only was the Canadian beaver valued for its fur but also for its flesh, and in particular, its fat. In its prime, beaver meat is composed of over thirty percent fat. The tail, considered a delicacy among fur traders and First Nations, was almost all fat.
“In summer, the beavers are lean, and their fur poor, for which reason they are usually not caught at this time. But in winter they get fat and have thicker fur. Their meat is very palatable. The tails, which are fat all through, are especially regarded as delicacies.” (from the journals of F. A Wislizenus 1839).
“The flesh of the Beaver is much prized by the Indians and Canadian Voyageurs, especially when it is roasted in the skin, after the hair has been singed off. In some districts it requires all the influence of the Fur Trader to restrain the hunters from sacrificing a considerable quantity of beaver fur every year to secure the enjoyment of this luxury…” (from the journals of James Richardson 1819)
At many of the northern Peace River fur trade sites, beaver bones were the most common. Such as this beaver pelvis and ulna found near the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) site. And and most of this bone shows knife marks from butchering, not skinning. This evidence, and its occurrence with other domestic household refuse, suggests consumption of the highly sought after meat.
(Now that I look closely at this photograph I see the Canadian nickel used for scale. And the beaver on it. Believe me, this was not intentional. But fitting, I guess. Couldn’t find a loonie.)
Not only were certain animals with high fat content selected for, but the parts of the animal, such as bone marrow, tongues, nose, some organs, and the fattest portions on the carcass (hump of the buffalo, rib meat, etc.) were also preferred.
Moose nose, or ‘muffle’. A great Canadian delicacy. Image courtesy of Four Pounds Flour. For a great read, go to this post and read all about preparation of this dish. And the historic quotes about its delicacy and flavor.
Other parts of the animal, now rarely eaten, often were very high in fat content:
“…and, oh shade of Eude, the marrow bones!” (author, unknown)
“Marrow was held in such high esteem that the term “marrow” seems to have come to be applied to other parts of the animals which were considered good to eat. As well as the frequently mentioned “marrow bones”, there are references to “marrow ribs”, “marrow fat”, and “marrow guts”…but the marrow guts were eaten by the Blackfoot and by the French Canadian voyageurs, who considered them a treat.” (from Isobella Hurburt 1977:16)
“…rich cow [bison] tongues cooked with buffalo marrow, which had been preserved in the autumn when the animals were fat…” (from the journals of John Palliser, 1853)
Bison tongue was considered a delicacy by First Nations and Canadian fur traders alike. Animal bone marrow contains approximately eighty-five percent fat. It was highly sought after in the fur trade. We find animal long bones that have been spirally fractured (green bone fracture) by a heavy implement to extract the marrow inside. The shaft of this large ungulate femur, found near the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) was deliberately smashed open to extract the marrow inside.
Fort personnel even boiled animal bones to extract every ounce of fat. The evidence? We often find hundreds of thousands of crushed pieces of animal bone at fur trade archaeological sites.
“…bones were also crushed, and all the marrow fat extracted from them. This was done by boiling the bones in sufficient water to cover them, and as the marrow or grease rose to the surface it was carefully skimmed off….This fat was eaten with “pounded meat”, and was also used in making pemmican.” (Amelia M. Paget, 1909, at HBC Fort Qu’appelle in Saskatchewan)
Crushed animal bones from a historic site near Fort Vermilion. Evidence of possible bone boiling for the extraction of grease.
In the words of Paul Kane, one of Canada’s earliest artists, while visiting Fort Edmonton in 1847, Christmas dinner contained many of these dishes:
“At the head, before Mr. Harriot, was a large of boiled buffalo hump; at the foot smoked a boiled buffalo calf. Start not, gentle reader, the calf is very small, and is taken Caesarean operation long before it attains full growth. This, boiled whole, is one of the most esteemed dishes amongst the epicures of the interior. My pleasing was to help a dish of mouffle, or dried moose nose; the gentleman on my left distributed, with graceful impartiality, the white fish, delicately browned in buffalo marrow. The worthy priest helped the buffalo tongue, whilst Mr. Rundell cut up the beaver’s tail. Nor was the other gentleman left unemployed, as all his spare time was occupied in dissecting a roast wild goose….Such was our jolly Christmas dinner at Edmonton; and long will it remain in my memory…”
In Times of Scarcity
At the other end of the spectrum, when times were tough, people would eat other, leaner types of animals, such as varying hare, or greater portions of lean meat containing higher amounts of protein. When humans ingest large amounts of protein or lean meat, and less fat, some severe health issues may occur. This malady is described below by one of Canada’s greatest arctic explorers, Vilhjalmur Stephanson:
“If you are transferred suddenly from a diet normal in fat to one consisting wholly of rabbit you eat bigger and bigger meals for the first few days until at the end of about a week you are eating in pounds three or four times as much as you were at the beginning of the week. By that time you are showing both signs of starvation and of protein poisoning. You eat numerous meals: you feel hungry at the end of each: you are in discomfort through distention of the stomach with much food and you begin to feel a vague restlessness. Diarrhea will start in from a week to 10 days and will no t be relieved unless you secure fat. Death will result after several weeks.” (Vilhjalmur Stephanson, Arctic Explorer)
Protein poisoning is also commonly known as ‘Rabbit Starvation.’ Rabbit, or varying hare, meat is very lean. Fat comprises about six percent of the meat on a domestic rabbit and about two percent on a wild rabbit, or varying hare. In comparison, bison meat contains approximately sixteen percent fat. Explorer, David Thomson, while in Alberta, got sick from eating too much lean fresh meat from very thin game animals in the early spring.
Rabbit starvation is best explained by how much energy humans use to digest and metabolize certain types of macronutrients. Here is the SDA (specific dynamic action), or metabolism of macronutrients:
Carbohydrates = 6%
Fats = 14%
Animal protein = 30%
This may explain why high lean meat diets result in weight loss. But these diets could potentially also be extremely dangerous. Also some studies (the China Study by C. Campbell, 2005) suggest there might be a relationship between high animal protein consumption and high heart disease rates. This study, however, is not without its critics.
The fur trade archaeological record
Whenever we excavate a fur trade site, we collect and identify all animal bone to animal taxa and element whenever possible. We can then reconstruct diet. So, what do the bones we find say about human diet during times of plenty versus times of scarcity? A lot. Here are a few examples:
FORT/NISP (# of Identifiable specimens)
Bison
Moose
Elk
Beaver
Varying Hare
Rocky Mt. Fort (1794 -1804)
181
678
12
748
143
Fort St. John’s (1806 -1823)
313
720
1595
136
639
In the above table, animal bones are listed from two fur trade forts in eastern British Columbia along the Peace River (from Burley et al, 1996). Rocky Mountain Fort was occupied when game animal populations were still very abundant. Fort St. John’s was occupied after nearly thirty years of fur trade activities in the region. When you do the math, at the latter fort, as game animal populations dwindled, the use of varying hare nearly tripled. Why? Fewer large game animals? Or, the cyclical population patterns of varying hare?
Region
% Varying Hare
Lower Peace River Posts
14.2
Upper Peace River Posts
15.7
Fortes des Prairies Posts
2.2
The above table shows the percent of varying hare that made up the faunal assemblages of forts of various regions along the Peace River and along the Saskatchewan River. At the Saskatchewan River posts, large game animals were much more plentiful than at the Peace River posts.And consequently, there was a considerably less amount of varying hare animal bone present in those assemblages.
At Dunvegan, located along the Peace River, north of Grande Prairie, Alberta, for example:
“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.” (Dunvegan journals, 1805, one year after the fort was opened)
When the hunters brought in 855 pounds of moose meat in on June 11, 1854, it was, “…welcome enough as we were at our last gasp for Grub.” (Dunvegan journals, 1854)
Animal Grease/Fat Selection
Archaeologists have devised ways to determine whether there is a deliberate selection of those parts of the animal containing the highest amounts of fat. On the Y-axis the anatomical parts of large mammals are ranked according to the amount of fat in that part or anatomical unit(e.g., bison hump). The X-axis represents the relative number of bone elements from each unit (e.g., thoracic vertebrae for the hump of the bison) found in the archaeological record (adjusted for number of elements). If there was a deliberate selection of units with the most grease/fat, then bone elements with the lowest grease/fat content will occur in the lowest numbers and bone elements with the highest grease content would occur in the highest numbers.At Fort George, where dietary stress was almost non-existent and large game was plentiful, there is a relatively good fit in the selection of animal parts containing the largest amounts of grease. Because people had more choice in meat selection, they choose parts of animals with the highest amount of fat, or grease.At Fort Vermilion, northern Alberta, where game animals were often scarce, there was no deliberate selection of only animal units containing high amounts of grease. In other words, nearly every part of the animal was eaten.
How Did This Diet Affect the Health of People in the Fur Trade?
Well, that’s the interesting question, isn’t it. What does a diet in high meat protein and fat do to you over your lifetime? Currently, according to everything we’re told by experts, it could shorten your lifespan. Or causes other major health issues.
But these statements seem to fly in the face of other evidence in our human history. Humans for hundreds of thousands of years, when given a choice, selected meats with the highest fat content. And what about those Inuit? Reportedly very healthy before they started eating a North American diet.
I’ll try to answer that question in my next post. Read about the interesting approach I took to answer it with the available fur trade data.
And no, I am not secretly working for any Canadian bacon brands. Maybe they’ll approach me with advertising when they see this post. Not even promoting a greater use of fat in the Canadian diet.
A Few Key References
Pyszczyk, Heinz W. 2015. The Last Fort Standing. Fort Vermilion and the Peace River Fur Trade, 1798 – 1830. Occasional Papers of the Archaeological Society of Alberta. Number 14, April 2015. (In particular, Chapter 7 discusses the faunal remains found at the site in detail).
Hurlburt, Isobella. 1977. Faunal Remains from Fort White Earth N.W.Co. (1810-1813). Human History Occasional Paper No. 1. Provincial Museum of Alberta. Alberta Culture, Edmonton.
Brink, John W. 2001. Carcass Utility Inidces and Bison Bones from the Wardell Kill and Butchering Sites. In People and Wildlife in North America. S. Craig Gerlach and Maribeth S. Murray (eds), pp. 235-273. BAR International Series 944. (Jack Brink, formerly at the Royal Alberta Museum, has done extensive research on animal fats and their use by Plains First Nations in western Canada and the United States.)
Burley, David V. 1996. Prophecy of the Swan. The Upper Peace River Fur Trade of 1794 – 1823. UBC Press, Vancouver.
When my mother and I arrived in Canada, in the winter of 1954, she had to drag this wooden trunk full of her possessions, along with a two-and-one-half year old, through Canadian Customs, Pier 21, Halifax, Nova Scotia. It’s old, in bad need of a paint job, and missing some hardware. But, I can’t seem to make myself part with it. Like losing a piece of my family history.
The Iron Curtain, East Germany, 1948
She ran for her life. Stumbling in the dark, splashing through the frigid water. Muzzle flashes all around her, and bullets flying everywhere. Some coming too close for comfort. Women, young children, running with her. Trying to escape. Screaming for help. Falling. Pleading and begging the guards to let them go.
‘Lying, rotten Russian bastard. I thought after I gave him those nylon stockings and the bottle of vodka everything would be OK.’ A rarity for a young twenty-three year old Adelgunde Kleister. To swear. Finally she stopped running. Exhausted, alone, frightened out of her wits, but now at least safe in West Germany. Then she began to cry. And the reality of what she had just done hit here like a ton of bricks.
‘My family. Our farm in Poland. All gone. My father, my mother and brother. I’ll never see them again. Gone. I hope my sister made it across?’ She continued crying and sobbing as she walked slowly away from the treacherous Iron Curtain, dividing East from West. Away from a life she had known, a family she had loved. But dragging with her the heartbreak and memories that would cling to her for the rest of her life.
……………………
In West Germany, around the same time, Walter sat stunned listening to the Red Cross worker. “I’m sorry, Herr Pyszczyk. We’ve looked everywhere, checked every known record. They’ve disappeared, vanished.”
“But that’s impossible. They must be somewhere. My parents, my three sisters, gone? You just haven’t looked hard enough, damn it. You don’t care enough. I’ve lost my entire family, and you just calmly stand there and prattle on.”
The worker sighed. He had heard all of this too many times before in the last few years. “I’m so sorry, Herr Pyszczyk. But, you must understand. Millions of Germans from Poland went missing when the Russians moved west in 1944. They tried escaping, but the reports we’re getting are grim. If we find anything more about your family, we will contact you.”
The worker left Walter sitting there, now crying pitifully. Later he got very drunk. To forget. That didn’t work. Wishing the bullet that had gone through his leg in the war, had gone through his head instead. To end this nightmare. Walking aimlessly for miles through the city, looking for what? A miracle? He couldn’t go back and look for them. He had to move on.
Pier 21, Halifax, Nova Scotia, 1954
SS Arosa Kulm out of Bremerhaven, Germany, which brought us to Pier 21, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.
Adelgunde pulled her large, heavy blue wooden trunk behind her toward the Canadian customs agent. Made by her friends in Stade, Germany before she departed for Canada. Heading for a new life, a new start. All her worldly possessions were in that big blue trunk. With her other hand she was holding tightly onto to her two-year old son, who was desperately trying to escape and go exploring.
“Muti, Ich muss gehen. Lass mich gehen.” (Mom I want to go. Let me go.) The young Heinz was restless, after being cooped up on the SS Arosa Kulm for three weeks while crossing the Atlantic.
He started crying. “Ich wollte auf dem Schiff schwimmen gehen. Aber, würden Sie mich nicht lassen.” (I wanted to go swimming on the ship. But, you wouldn’t let me.) Adelgunde, still looking a little pale, having suffered badly from sea sickness on the voyage, only sighed. On the ship they had to hang onto Heinz during the lifeboat drills because with his life vest on, he wanted to jump overboard and go swimming.
“Your passport and papers, please Ma’am.” The customs agent yawned as he unceremoniously dumped all the belongings in her trunk onto the counter. Then rummaged through them, caring little about keeping any order.
“Was sagt er Mama? Ich verstehe ihn nicht.” (What is he saying mom? I don’t understand him.)
Adelgunde looked worried. She didn’t either. Finally the custom agent took the papers out of her trembling hands and checked them.
After a somewhat lengthy appraisal, he nodded, pointed toward the doors, and strode away, leaving her pack her belongings back into the trunk.
‘Entlich. In Kanada.‘ (Finally. In Canada). And the start of her new life out west, in Saskatchewan, where Walter was already waiting.
Stade, West Germany, c.1953. Picture of my parents and myself taken just before my father left for Canada. Mom and I followed in 1954.
RCMP Security Services Headquarters, Ottawa, 1956
Police Constable, 1st Class, Frank Bettner, Royal Canadian Mounted Police Security Services, walked stiffly into Chief Superintendent Samuel Rolson’s office, saluted, then spoke.
“You wanted to see me sir? On a matter of some urgency, I understand.” Bettner calmly waited for Rolson to respond. The man seemed to be too busy writing to pay full attention to his special agent. Showing off his self-importance to Bettner, after his new promotion to Chief ‘Super’.
Rolson finally looked up. “Ah, yes Bettner. Take a seat. It’s the bloody Germans, Bettner. Out west in the Swift Current – Leader area, in Saskatchewan. More have arrived recently. They might be up to no good, Bettner. All crowded together like that out there. This could be a national security issue. Of vast importance. We can’t let those people organize. They could be a menace to Canadian society.”
Bettner couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘All crowded together like that?’ There were more jackrabbits than Germans in that part of Saskatchewan. He had heard rumors about Rolson. Fresh out of a smaller center from eastern Canada. Hardly an authority on the West. Newly promoted to the RCMP’s Security Service Division and ambitious as hell. Always ’tilting at windmills.’ The worst kind.
“Sir, I hardly think a few farmers, just soundly beaten and bruised in the war, want to cause more trouble in their new country.”
Rolson, now staring at something on the ceiling, replied. “Bettner, Bettner, where have you been? I have all the reports right here. When that first wave of Germans settled in the area before the First World War, they tried to turn it into a little Germany. And it would have happened if we hadn’t stopped them. Did you know they initially called the town of Leader, ‘Berlin’ and gave all the streets German names. We put a stop to that of course, before they took over the whole province. No, I think we should go have a look and see what they’re up to.”
Bettner already knew where this was heading. ‘We’ meant Bettner was going into the area, and then report back to Rolson. So, he took the initiative. “Where do you want me to go Sir? And when?”
“I’m glad you asked Bettner. Leave as soon as possible. Go out into the Portreeve – Leader area. Take on some form of disguise and fit in, Bettner. I hear there are quite a few newly arrived Germans out that way. Some of them might even be Folksdeutsche.”
Bettner, looking a little bewildered, “Folksdeutsche, Sir? What are those?”
“The worst kind I’m told. Germans from other countries, like Poland for example. Some of them Nazi sympathizers. Some were even German soldiers. They’re here now. They have to be carefully watched. Who knows what they’re up to.” Rolson, by now, had driven himself into a bit of a frenzy, fueled by his endorphins, produced by his paranoia.
“Alright Sir. I’ll leave in a few days. And see what those ‘Gerries’ are up to. I’ll report back in a couple of months.”
“Good Bettner. Take as long as you need. And don’t let me down. These people must be put in their place. They could be troublemakers.”
‘And you want trouble. Hoping for it. Maybe so you can get another promotion, you ambitious, pompous ass. So, you need a little dirt on these people. Well, I’ll find something for you alright.’
…………………….
A Farm, North of Portreeve, Saskatchewan
Claud Vigar, owner of about six sections of land, and renting even more, north of Portreeve, Saskatchewan waved Walter and Adelgunde to come over. “Della,” as he liked to call Adelgunde, “Come and meet the new hired hand, Frank Bettner. Frank, this is Walter and Della, my farm hands. They’ll show you what needs doing. You can sleep in the bunkhouse, and join them for meals.”
Frank shook hands with the couple. “Gutten Tag, Herr Pyszczyk, Frau Pyszczyk.”
Walter, a little surprised at Bettner’s German, shook hands with the tall, blond man. So was Claud. But then he realized, this was a good thing. The couple’s English was still a little shaky. Frank could help them with it.
” Bist auch ein Deutsher? Wie lange sind Sie shon in Kanada?” Walter was curious.
“I’m third generation Canadian, Walter. Born and raised here. But, I can still speak a little German. And my German laughter is excellent.” Walter nodded and smiled. Bettner calmly looked around the little house. Taking it all in at one glance. Poorly constructed, but ‘German’ neat and clean. A big blue wooden trunk sat in the corner, used to put kitchen stuff on and for storage in the small kitchen. He wondered what was in it. Maybe secret plans for the invasion of Saskatchewan.
When Claud left, Walter took a closer look at Bettner, thinking: ‘About thirty-two years old, a good six foot four inches tall, all muscle. Well over two-hundred and twenty pounds. I bet he can throw bales up on the hay wagon all day long, without breaking a sweat. And take a forty-five gallon barrel of fuel and lift it onto the truck box. He’ll do fine.’
“Come, I show you where you sleep. Bring your stuff. In one hour come for supper and we talk about work.” Walter showed Bettner the bunk house and then went back to his own house to get cleaned up for supper. The cows were milked. Chickens, ducks, geese and pigs fed. It was almost time to wrap up the day.
My mother and me, c.1955 – 1956. With all the ducks. On the farm, north of Portreeve, Saskatchewan.
…………………………
The weeks flew quickly by. There was a lot to do on the farm in August and September. It was harvest time. Bettner fit right in. And worked like a horse. Ate like one too, according to Adelgunde. He seemed to know a lot about farming and Walter was impressed. The two men got along well. About the same age. There was an endless amount of talking and the conversation occasionally turned to politics and the ‘old country.’ Whenever the conversation took this path, Adelgunde grew nervous.
“So, Walter, you were in the German army, yah?”
“Yah, air force first. When I puke all over the cockpit, they put me on the ground. Army supply transport truck driver. Until I was captured by Canadians in 1944 on western front.” Walter smiled at that. It could have been worse. He could have been captured by the Russians. He would now probably be quite dead.
“And your family, all still back in Germany I presume?”
At Bettner’s words, Walter’s mood changed. “No more family. All gone.” After that Bettner couldn’t get another word out of him about family.
“It must have been hard for both of you to pack up and leave? Everything. Everyone.” Bettner was gently probing.
“Not so hard for me. Families gone. Germany ‘kaput,’ broken. Nothing left. No work. No food. No hope. No future.”
“But your sympathies must still lie a little with the ‘Vaterland‘ and the loss of the war. That must have been hard?”
“We went through hell and back. Never knowing whether we would live or die, from day to day. I was a soldier. Did as I was told, and hoped I would see the sun rise next day.”
Adelgunde was getting more agitated by the minute. “Walter, I think that’s enough…”
“But not all soldiers were Nazi sympathizers. Not all of us believed or agreed with what Hitler was doing. In this country, they treat us like we are all Nazis.”
“Walter enough.” By now Adelaide’s voice had reached another octave. “Enough politics. That’s what we left behind. Don’t bring it into my house.” Walter shrugged and fell silent. Frank took one look at Adelgunde’s face, and didn’t prod any more.
After supper, when Frank had left and Heinz was sleeping, Adelgunde looked at Walter. “You shouldn’t talk about stuff like that. You don’t know Frank very well. Who knows what he could be telling others, the authorities.” She looked worried.
“‘Gunde, this isn’t Nazi Germany where everyone is an informant and a spy for the government. This country is different. You worry too much.”
“Maybe you’re right Walter. But, please try to be a little more careful. With our neighbors, the Schneiders and the Hecks, we can be a little more open. But you don’t know this man. Just be careful what you say.”
A few hours later, lying in bed, listening to her husband’s steady breathing, Adelgunde worried some more. Even out here in this desolate place, inhabited by few people, most of them Germans, she still could not rid herself of the repressive antics of the Third Reich that she left behind. That ghost was still following her.
And then there was Bettner. ‘Er ist zu wissbegierig und schlau.’ (He’s too inquisitive and sly.) ‘He seems to look around and take in everything at once, noting every detail. Watching us carefully. When we’re not paying attention. He reminds me too much of those German Gestapo fellows. Always on the prowl. Turning over every rock.’ But then she considered Bettner’s eyes. Those deep, deep blue eyes.
‘Seine Augen sind freundlich und vertrauenswürdig. (His eyes are kind and trustworthy.) I think he’s a good man, but there’s something about him that still makes me uncomfortable. I guess I can’t keep acting like this though. We’re in a new country and it certainly can’t be as bad as home. Can it?’
………………………
A few months later, when Bettner walked into Rolson’s office, the man was sitting behind his desk and seemed to be studying the same spot on the ceiling since the last time Bettner was here.
Bettner waited. And finally said: “Special Agent Bettner reporting back, Sir.” And then waited some more.
Rolson had seemingly solved the problem on the ceiling and looked his way. “Ah, yes, Bettner. You look tanned and fit. Farm life has treated you well? Report what you’ve found, special agent.”
Bettner merely shrugged. Then put a worried, concerned look on his face before answering.
Rolson wasn’t used to being kept waiting. “Well, Bettner, you did find something, right? All that time out there, you should have uncovered something. What are those ‘Gerries’ up to?”
“I don’t know where to start, Sir. You were right though. There are certainly some strange things happening out there. But, I’ll just describe them and let you draw your own conclusions.”
“Yes, Bettner, go on. Get it out.” Rolson was getting excited, now fully engaged. At last, maybe something he could take to his superiors.
Bettner shrugged again, taking his time. Rolson grew increasingly agitated. Finally Bettner began. “First of all they produce enough food to feed a small army, Sir. In the fall they work twelve to sixteen hours a day, harvesting the fields, gardens, canning, butchering. And there’s still more to come. I don’t know why they need all that food. My boss, Walter, put on at least ten pounds this summer.”
Rolson considered this. Food. Army. Yes, of course. Fishy-sounding alright. “Go on Bettner.”
“Most of the farm families have built these bunkers out of earth and timbers. With no windows and thick, thick, doors. I’ve watched them haul all this food in there. And store it. As if getting ready for something big, Sir.”
Rolson nodded. Maybe an invasion? Of course. Army. “Maybe we should do some aerial photography over those farms, Bettner, and see how common this really is.”
“Good idea, Sir. I never would have thought of that.”
But Rolson wasn’t listening, instead furiously writing. Already compiling his report to his superiors. As he wrote, he mumbled, “Any more Bettner? What else did you notice.”
“Perhaps the strangest behavior I noticed though is their soap making.” Before continuing, Bettner waited since Rolson was still madly writing.
Finally Rolson looked up, “Soap making? What’s so strange about that?”
“It’s how they make it and what they call it, Sir. That’s the interesting part. First they fill a large barrel full of ash from their cooking and heating fires in their stoves. The barrel has a small spigot at the bottom for drainage. When it rains the barrel fills with water. They drain off the liquid and then mix it with lard to make the soap.’
“That sound interesting Bettner, but I don’t get it. It’s just soap, right?”
Bettner, now looking grave, leaned over the desk of his superior, almost nose to nose with him. And almost in a whisper said, “It’s what they call the soap Sir. That’s what’s a little strange. They call it Lie soap, Sir.” Bettner looked conspiratorially into Rolson’s eyes, before backing off.
Rolson looked perplexed for only a moment. And then slyly smiled. “Lie soap, Bettner? How do they spell that?”
“Don’t know, Sir. They can’t write English very well, so I never asked.” Bettner did notice Rolson madly writing in his journal: ‘LIE SOAP’.
“Did they say how they used it Bettner? This lie soap.”
“Rumor has it Sir, if you wash your hands with it, you’ll come clean, if you’ll excuse my pun, Sir.”
Rolson looked flustered. “Pun? Never mind. Did you try it Bettner?”
Bettner thought this question rather foolish. But, then he looked solemnly at Rolson. “Sir, if I did that, well, my cover might have been blown. Anyway, I brought you back a few bars. Try it on some prisoners you are interrogating and see how it works.” With that Bettner plunked two large bars of white soap on Rolson’s desk.
Rolson, now looking more pleased than ever, asked, hopefully: “Anything else Bettner, that you noticed? I can’t help but think we’re onto something big here.”
Bettner only nodded even more solemnly, then went on. “Hockey, Sir. There’s going to be trouble there.”
“Hockey, Bettner? What does hockey have to do with new German Canadians?”
Two things, Sir. First, the Leader Hockey team calls themselves the ‘Flyers’. Leader Flyers. Could be nothing more than a name, but you never know. We’ve had troubles with those people before, as you pointed out in our last meeting.”
Rolson, was now rapidly connecting the dots as soon as Bettner opened his mouth. ‘Flyers, yes, maybe a secret German air force of some sort.’
Then he looked up at Bettner. “And the second thing, Bettner?”
“I noticed the young Heinz already has skates and a hockey stick. His father told me he is making great strides learning how to skate and play.” Bettner waited for Rolson to take the bait.
“What’s so important, or threatening, about that, Bettner?”
“Sir, think about it. Germans playing hockey! Where would that end? Strategic breakout plays, defensive zone coverage. Endless drills and practices. They would put skill and strategy into the game, and take all the fun out of it.” Rolson nodded again. Yes, he could see where that could ruin the game.
“And the worst of all, Sir. The father, Walter, is making a helmet for Heinz, so he wouldn’t smack his head on the ice. Can you imagine Sir, helmets in hockey? Those ‘Gerries’ with their helmets…”
“I see Bettner. That kind of thinking could ruin the league. Who ever heard of such an absurd thing? We can’t let them get started.”
Before Bettner could continue, Rolson interjected. “OK, Bettner, that will be all for now. I have more than enough information here to get me started. I have another meeting to attend in the next few minutes. What’s your next move then?”
“Oh, I’m afraid I have to go back for a few more months. This is the best time of year to gather the really good intel. You see, they all gather in the late fall, early winter, eat and celebrate. They’re having a huge gathering and fresh ‘Schwein–Gebratenes‘ (pig fry) this weekend. I can’t miss that.” Bettner was almost drooling with anticipation as he said these last words.
Rolson looked a little worriedly at his special agent. ‘Why do I get the feeling he’s really enjoying himself out there.’ He shrugged, stood, getting ready to leave for the meeting.
Before he could get around his desk, Bettner blurted out.
“A few more things, Sir. Of utmost importance. You need to hear this, Sir. Before you leave. It could really affect your career.”
Rolson hesitated. Thinking, ‘Well, so I’m a little late for a budget meeting. I hate those damn meetings anyway. And besides. What could be more important than the safety of our country.’ He looked expectantly at Bettner.
“Sir, I hear rumors about a gathering, and the words ‘sauerkraut’ keeps popping up when I’m among them. It could be code, Sir, for something. Remember, we always call them ‘Krauts’ during the war. Well, ‘Säure’ means sour. They might be putting together a crack fighting unit. The Säurer Krauts. A bunch of nasty young German mens with a chip on their shoulder. That would explain why all that food is necessary.”
“Good point Bettner. Anything else? Do they have weapons?”
“None that I’ve seen, Sir. But, sometimes when the German men get together, and have too much to drink, they start talking about, ‘Die Grosse Berta.’ (The ‘Big Bertha’). And they roar with laughter. As soon as the women approach, they shut up as if keeping some big secret.”
“Big Bertha.” I don’t understand Bettner?”
“As you recall, Sir, that was the name of the long-range artillery gun they developed in the Firsts World War. Could shoot your eye out, lobbing a shell half the size of this office all the way from Swift Current to Regina.” Rolson visibly shuddered at the thought.
“And when they get together they sing in German, and read Der Courier, a German newspaper out of Winnipeg. And occasionally I hear some sort of chanting. Something like, Sind Heil. Sind Heil. Not sure what to make of that yet, Sir. But, this next trip might tell me.”
“At their last party, one of the neighbors got so drunk, he hitched the horses backwards to the sleigh, to take his family home. They’re a rowdy bunch, Sir. That I can vouch for.” Rolson, nodded, now desperately trying to get away from Bettner, to attend his meeting. But, before he could escape, Bettner was at it again.
“But of all the things I’ve seen, what worries me most is that blue wooden trunk of Adelgunde’s. It’s always locked, and not one can look in for some reason.”
Rolson was thinking, ‘Maybe holding secret plans of some sort. What else could it be for.’
“And one last thing Sir before you go. Also, of utmost importance.” Again, Bettner leaned over conspiratorially toward Rolson, almost whispering in his ear. “I’d take this right to the top, Sir. Don’t go through the normal channels. Why, you may wonder? Well, think about it. What’s your superior’s last name?”
“Shultz,” blurted out Rolson. ‘Yes, of course, Schultz.’
“Can’t be too careful now can we, Sir? Your never know. They probably already have spies everywhere….”
Bettner winked at his superior and finally left the room. Rolson, a little shaken by these last words, just stood there, motionless. ‘That Bettner is right. Who can I trust these days?’ Then he turned and managed to catch the end of his budget meeting.
Those partying Germans, c.1956-1957. For many of you their names don’t mean much. For those of you reading this who are from the Portreeve – Shackleton area, you may recognize a few names. From the top left: the late Adelgunde Pyszczyk; the late Gustov Gotzman; the late Ida Berg; the late Walter Pyszczyk; the late Olga Gotzman. Bottom row: the late Ralph Berg; Erica Berg (Minor, Undseth), and Heinz Pyszczyk.
…………………….
Ottawa, Three Months Later
Special agent Bettner strode into the Chief Superintendent’s office, back after two more months of undercover work. Still a little hung over, and a little fatter. Gosh those Germans could cook. He looked around. ‘Strange, something’s not right here. The office is reorganized, a new secretary.’
He looked at the secretary. “Yes, I’m here to report back to Chief Superintendent Rolson.”
The secretary looked at him a little quizzically before answering. “I’m sorry Sir. Bettner is it? Chief Superintendent Rolson is no longer here. He’s been reassigned.”
Bettner put on a surprised look on his face. “Reassigned? But he just got here. Where did he go?”
The secretary shook her head. “It’s best if the new Chief Superintendent briefed you, Sir. He’s expecting you, so go right in.”
“Special agent, Frank Bettner, reporting, Sir.” Bettner eyed the new superintendent. Who was eyeing him as well. More like sizing him up. Boring into him, as if wanting to extract something.
“Sit down Bettner. How was the field work?”
“Tough, Sir. Hard keeping up with those Germans in the fall. They work their tails off to get ready for winter. And then eat and celebrate even harder.”
Superintendent Kirkland was in the process of closing a huge, fat file, with the bright red letters across its cover: CONFIDENTIAL. He continued to stare at Bettner.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Superintendent Rolson?”
Kirkland appraised Bettner further, as if deciding how much to reveal and whether to trust him. After what he had just read in the file, this one was a sly buggar.
“Yes, well, ‘Corporal’ Rolson was reassigned after what happened with this German investigation.” He waited for Bettner to speak.
“Reassigned, Sir? He’s a corporal now? Where too?”
“He’ll be working out of Cambridge Bay, and points north. All the way to Alert Bay in the territories.”
Bettner gasped in disbelief. ‘Holy shit, that’s almost in Russia.’ “May I ask why, Sir?”
“You may Bettner. But I’m sure you already know the answer. Since our now ‘Corporal’ Rolson has such a keen imagination for potential enemies of the state, we sent him north to deal with the next expected menace.”
“I didn’t know we had any menaces up there, Sir. Just ice and snow and hardly any people.”
“Oh, Rolson will find something. Real or not. He’ll conjure some up. You can appreciate that can’t you Bettner?”
Bettner gulped. He didn’t like where this conversation was heading.
“You see Bettner, his mandate up there is to warn us if the ‘commies’ prepare to invade Canada across the arctic. And the ice. He has to watch the ice.”
“Watch the ice, Sir? I don’t understand. It’s all ice up there. Nothing but ice.”
“That’s his job Bettner. To watch the ice doesn’t become a threat. And report back bi-annually, if he sees anything suspicious. Last time I talked with him, he asked specifically about you. Whether it would be possible to transfer you up there to help him out. You seemed to work so well together on this last assignment. Thought we might send you along with him.”
Bettner gulped again. A small trickle of sweat began running down his spine. ‘No. Anywhere but there. No.’ “I’m hardly suited for the arctic, Sir. I’m too tall. I would freeze instantly, and intimidate those shorter Inuit.”
Kirkland smiled. ‘Fast thinker, aren’t you Bettner. Now that your shorts are in a bit of a knot.’
“Agreed Bettner. You’ll continue to work here. For me. But, let’s get one thing straight. No more bullshit, like what I’m reading here in Rolson’s report to the Commissioner. The Commissioner. Can you believe that? Why would he do such a thing? Bypass the chain of command?” He looked suspiciously at Bettner, who now was studying that same spot on the ceiling as Rolson had before.
Gradually Bettner looked down, at Kirkland. “Yes, Sir. But, it wasn’t quite like that. I told him things and he probably used his slightly over-creative imagination I guess. Thought the information I gave him was really important to move right to the top.”
“Bettner, we’re starting off on the wrong foot here. Is there are real German threat out west? Or not?”
“No Sir. They’re a hard working bunch of people who just want some peace and stability in their lives. Good food. And, a little fun. They get together, mainly because there is no one else up there, and they understand one another.”
“The shit really hit the fan Bettner, when Rolson accused the land owner Claud Vigar of being a German sympathizer. Word got out and Claud got pissed off and went to the politicians. And reamed the crap out of them. Then they in turn reamed the crap out of us. And so on. Vigar contributes to all the strong political parties. He’s always got friends in government no matter who’s in power. Pretty stupid of Rolson to single him out. I wonder where he got that idea Bettner?” Kirkland was staring rather icily at him again. Waiting.
“Well, he might have misunderstood what I said, Sir. All I said was that Mr. Vigar seemed very friendly with his German hired hands, and his name didn’t really sound too English. That’s all I said, Sir.”
“Is that so Bettner. Maybe he should have checked his history. Vigars arrived in England, from Normandy, with the Norman Conquest of 1066. They lived in Cornwall.”
Bettner, now feeling extremely uncomfortable, just wanted to get out of Kirkland’s office. “Will that be all, Sir? I’m sure you’re busy with other more important things.”
Kirkland looked at him one final time. Again, as if sizing him up, as if fitting him for a winter parka for the Canadian arctic. “One last thing Bettner. The only good thing that came out of this pile of shit in front of me was the hockey helmet idea. The commissioner really liked that. He’s going to meet with NHL officials to discuss it. Right now we have Canadians’ brains being spattered all over the ice. That has to stop. It may take years though.”
Kirkland was already eying another file in his in-basket. Without so much as even glancing at Bettner, he just pointed towards the door. “Close the door on your way out.”
“Yes Sir. Nothing more important than national security and hockey.”
“Get out Bettner, before I change my mind and send you to Cambridge Bay. I’m sure Rolson will have a welcoming party ready for you. I hear you’ve been playing hockey with the Leader Flyers. Maybe in Cambridge Bay you could play all year ’round.”
Bettner left in a hurry. Wondering where his next assignment might be. Hopefully not in Cambridge Bay. Oh, Please God. Wondering too, ‘I never did find out what was in that wooden blue trunk of Adelgunde’s. Well, it sure wasn’t blueprints for a new weapon to take over Saskatchewan.’ He nodded to himself. Now that was solid intel.
A Few Final Notes:
I struggled writing this story. And when it was finished, whether to even post it. As I wrote it, I got a little choked up. Thinking about my parents and what they went through, as new Canadians. And, looking through those old photographs brought back a flood of memories.
I guess what finally convinced me to post it is our attitude towards newly landed Canadian immigrants. There is still a belief among some Canadians that immigrants just suck our tax money away. And somehow are a threat to our Canadian way of life.
We sometimes forget that many Canadian immigrants went through hell just to get here. Just happy to be alive. For many there were two choices: Leave, or die. I heard that a lot when growing up over the dinner table, from my parents. For my father, the loss of his family after World War II was so emotional that he didn’t want to talk much about them.
In 1999, my mother finally hooked up with what was left of her family in what was formerly East Germany. Over fifty years after escaping across the Iron Curtain, into the West. It was a very special time for her. For all of us.
As first generation Canadians, we struggled, but adapted quickly enough. Yes, we were discriminated against. The emotions of war were still raw among many Canadians. It wasn’t that long ago, we were the enemy. I was called a ‘Nazis’ at school. Some of the other kids had a great time with my last name. But we fit in a lot more smoothly than many other immigrants who come to this country. And most Canadians were considerate, sympathetic, and very kind.
How to tell this story? It runs the gamut of emotions and mood. In short story writing 101, you’re supposed to set a mood and then stick with it throughout the narrative. I had a hard time with that. The first part of this story is dark, filled with fear, hopelessness, grief and despair. The second part with the RCMP is mostly political satire and humor. Usually these emotions in one story don’t mix very well.
But, some of the things I hear about immigrants, and how they supposedly threaten our Canadian way of life, while dark, are almost humerus and hard to believe. Almost. But, scary as well. Because behind all that paranoia and xenophobia, are good people that I worked with, play hockey with, or go have a few drinks with.
I have the utmost respect for Canadian law enforcement and what our police are faced with trying to figure out who is ‘naughty’ and who is ‘nice’. There is a Rolson or two in every profession. Clearly, from the little literature I read, before and during the first world War and during the Second World War, our Canadian police were watching out for German and Japanese sympathizers. Even going so far as to inter entire families. As they did with many Japanese Canadians.
It is less clear how much RCMP surveillance there was after the Second World War, as another wave of German immigrants arrived in Canada. Many settling in western Canada. Including the Swift Current – Leader corridor. Was there an RCMP dossier on German Canadians? Perhaps on the Berg’s and the Pyszczyk’s? If those documents exist, they are probably so deeply buried in the Canadian archives it will take more than a century before they ever see the light of day.
Now that I look back on those early years, our families didn’t much ‘rock the Canadian boat’. Not even in hockey. Fancy breakout plays were not foremost on my mind when I played. I, like my Canadian teammates, was just trying to survive.
These are just some of the countries where this popular food is made and eaten. Its many different names speak highly to its popularity around the world. In Canada, where we have such a diverse mix of peoples from all over the world, it’s not too surprising that our pierogies come in many sizes, shapes and tastes, even when made by people from the same country. Canadians have given them at least one unique name that I’m aware of – ‘Prairie Pillows.’
Yum. Everyone’s eaten them. Or even made them. Those oversized doughy dumplings with fillings ranging from assorted meats, cheeses, potatoes, cabbage, onions and sauerkraut. Even fruits. Then boiled, and fried, if desirable. And topped with a variety of ingredients such as the ever-popular sour cream.
After doing some research on this tasty food, and making my own pierogies for many years, I realized people have put just about anything in a pierogi. And, on it. And Eastern Europeans, where it’s so popular, have been creating different varieties of pierogies for centuries. The most popular commercial frozen pierogies in Canada are the mashed potato and cheddar cheese varieties. Specialty shops in larger Canadian centers will likely have a much larger assortment to choose from.
For more history on the pierogi in Canada, read Gabby Peyton’s article on some iconic foods in Canada.
Our Family Background
As a small child, I watched my mother make pierogies for hours on end. A very time-consuming undertaking, if you’ve ever tried it. She made them the Polish way. Both our families (Pyszczyk and Kleister) come from Poland. My mother’s side (Kleister) farmed along the Vistula River, north of Warsaw, where they had lived for over three-hundred years, after immigrating from there fro western Germany. And my father’s side (Pyszczyk), moved from the western Ukraine, and farmed south of Krakow, closer to the Czechoslovakian border. Both families considered themselves Germans. But, they made and ate Polish-style pierogies.
Growing up, I wasn’t always sure what I was. German? Polish? Or Ukrainian? It wasn’t too long before it was pretty obvious. Canadian. Regardless of my ethnic background(s).
Polish Pierogies
In Poland the pierogi is of considerable significance. In fact, it is one of the country’s national dishes. In the thirteenth century it was peasant food and a staple of the Polish diet. It soon spread through all the social classes. By the seventeenth century, special kinds of pierogies, each with different shapes or fillings, were being created for each of the many Polish holidays. And also for everything from weddings to wakes.
My Mom’s Pierogies
Mom’s pierogies were pretty simple. As are many traditional pierogi recipes. She always filled them with quark (milk curd, similar to cottage cheese), made from fresh milk. I always marveled at the process. Mom would take a small flour sack, fill it with milk, and then hang it up in the kitchen. Then she put a pail under it and let the liquid slowly drain out of it for a couple of days. And before you knew it. Quark. (Note: I wish I had paid more attention to this process. Can’t remember now if she used buttermilk or just raw milk, or both.) She added a little salt to the quark along with chopped onions, and the filling was ready.
Mom’s dough was quite simple too. White flour, water, maybe an egg or two, and a little milk. Mix it all up and knead it. Using her hands, mom would roll and stretch the dough into a long, thick rope, and then cut it into approximately one-inch sections. Then came the time-consuming part. Roll out each section of dough. Then make each individual pierogi by hand, boil them, and then fry them in bacon fat and onions. Mom’s pierogies were bigger than what I see in stores and restaurants today. We would add a dollop of sour cream on top, and they were ready to eat.
My Pierogies
I began helping mom make pierogies when I was pretty young and then eventually started making my own. Soon I was developing my own style and tastes, experimenting with different fillings. Even today, I’m still dabbling with new fillings and spices. And when I did a little research on Canadian pierogies, I realized when it comes to pierogi fillings and toppings, the sky’s the limit.
Like my writing style, I cook ‘by the seat of my pants’. My batches of pierogies are rarely ever the same size, shape, or taste. Sometimes, I add a certain spice or ingredient I haven’t tried before. There’s no written down, detailed recipe of specific measurements of ingredients. Occasionally when I make a real good batch, I think, ‘maybe I should write this one down.’ But, I never seem to get around to it.
Here are the three main varieties of pierogies I make. I’ll just briefly describe and summarize the first one. I’ll go into a little more detail on the last two varieties which I made recently (and took a few photographs while making them). I created these two types out of more traditional recipes over the years. I won’t bore you with the proportions of the ingredients. It all depends how many pierogies you want to make and what your tastes are like.
Dough
I use only white flour, water, and salt for my dough. I’ve tried egg dough and find it gets too rubbery and hard when boiled. I’ve tried milk in my dough’s and find the dough gets too flaccid and is not elastic enough. (Maybe I should try the two together?) Don’t make the dough too dry. It has to be slightly sticky so you can seal the filling inside.
Large ball of dough ready to be made into pierogies. A lot of ingredients were added to pierogi dough over the centuries. Mashed potatoes, creating a smoother texture. The Czechs and Slovaks add curds and eggs to their dough. The Ukrainians add fermented milk products to bind the dough together. In Slovenia, they make the dough out of buckwheat, instead of wheat flour.
Cabbage and Mushroom Pierogies
I found this recipe in a Ukrainian cookbook years ago and adapted it slightly to my tastes. It consists of boiled, chopped cabbage, with sauteed mushrooms, and onions. Mix the cabbage in with the mushrooms and onions. Add salt and pepper according to your tastes. Add enough lemon juice to the mixture so it tastes slightly tangy. Or, add more lemon juice for a more sour, stronger taste. These pierogies go well with a meat or cottage cheese pierogi. In Poland and the Ukraine, sauerkraut is often used instead of the cabbage and lemon.
Ground Beef Pierogies
First, break up and fry about a pound and a half of lean ground beef in a skillet. I add finely chopped onions, salt and pepper to the mixture. Occasionally I add some thyme and oregano for extra flavor. Once the mixture is thoroughly cooked and browned, drain away as much of the grease as possible. Set aside and let cool before filling the pierogi.
Grease is the enemy when making pierogies. If it gets on your hands or on the edges of the dough, the dough won’t stick together very well. And you’ll end up with ‘sinkers‘ (pierogies that leak when being boiled and sink to the bottom of the pot).
Preparing the ground beef and onions in a large frying pan. I use salt and pepper liberally, and some oregano and thyme. Season as you see fit. The more seasoning, the stronger the taste. I spread out a ball of dough with a roller for each pierogi. No cooky cutter approach here. Then I add two heaping tablespoons of meat filling, fold and close the dough up by pinching the ends together. Don’t get grease on the edges, anywhere, or there will be trouble when you boil the pierogies. I’ve made a tomato paste and ground beef filling before. Although they tasted great, I found these pierogies were even harder to seal than just a ground beef mixture.
Cottage Cheese and Cheddar Cheese Pierogies
These are my favorites and truly a hybrid of what my mom used to make. I like spices and strong tastes. I always found mom’s pierogies a little bland. Dad didn’t like spices very much. So, over the years I spiced my pierogies up a bit.
Ingredients include dry cottage cheese, the strongest cheddar cheese you can lay your hands on, a bundle of green onions, salt and lots of pepper. Dump the cottage cheese into a large bowl. Then shred the strong cheddar cheese into it, and mix well. About one-third cheddar to the cottage cheese. Or more, if you want a cheesier, stronger taste. Sometimes I pop in an egg and mix it all up. Sometimes I forget…
Note: There’s one thing I have noticed about pierogi fillings. When you boil the pierogies, it seems to suck a lot of he flavor out of the filling. That’s why I make the fillings really strong-tasting. By the time they’re boiled, then fried, they mellow out.
Dried cottage cheese, strong/old cheddar cheese, and green onion filled pierogies. As with the meat-filled pierogies, I put two heaping tablespoons of filling onto a rolled out dough ball. Then seal it. This variety of pierogi is not as difficult to seal as the greasier meat-filled pierogies. The finished product. Ready to boil.I’ll make anywhere from three to six dozen pierogies at a time. It may take hours of work, but then I have many meals. Divide the pierogies into meal-sized portions and freeze. With the size of my pierogies, I find three pierogies per person is usually enough.Place the pierogies in low boiling water for about three to four minutes. Boiling them too hard might burst them. Oh, I think I see a ‘sinker.’ Once boiled, fry the pierogies on low heat in a large frying pan with a bit of oil or bacon grease. I like to slice in a third to a half of a medium onion when frying them.
Pierogies in Canada
I’m betting there aren’t many places in Canada where you can’t find pierogies on the restaurant menu. Here in Edmonton, with its high Ukrainian, Polish, and German populations, many restaurants make and serve them. I selected two restaurants in Edmonton, and a few more across the country to see what they put in, and on top, of their pierogies. Because of the coronavirus outbreak, I didn’t personally check out the two restaurants in Edmonton. But I will.
Located on 4532 – 99 Street NW in Edmonton, this small diner specializes in Eastern European cuisine. It has very good ratings and lists a variety of pierogies on its menu. In fact, Eastern Europeans probably wouldn’t recognize some of the varieties. Like Jalapeno & Old Cheddar.
Wendy’s lists ten different varieties of pierogies (spelled ‘perogies’ on her sign). It’s pretty obvious from her menu, that there’s a wide variety, including fillings adapted more for the Canadian palate. Restaurants are experimenting with different fillings, as they probably have for centuries.
Loaded Pierogi, Edmonton
Located on 10815 Jasper Avenue, Edmonton, this small restaurant really loads up their pierogies with all kinds of toppings. From the few photographs I looked at, it was often hard to find the pierogies under all that topping. This establishment receives very high reviews, including some from Polish folks who claimed they were excellent.
The Loaded Pierogi restaurant in Edmonton lists a variety of toppings on its pierogies, which you can pick and choose from. Like Wendy’s Perogies, this restaurateur is experimenting with a variety of new fillings and toppings. Including: Roast Chicken and Avocado Club Pierogi; Wild Mushroom and Truffle Pierogi; and, Montreal Smoked Meat Pierogi, just to name a few. Always looking for that great Canadian pierogi experience.
A-R Perogies in Saskatoon lists seventeen different varieties on their menu, including ‘Beef Tortellini.’ In Winnipeg at the Fusion Grill you can order pierogies with duck sausage in a thick creamy sauce. The Marion Street Eatery, Winnipeg, occasionally serves sweet potato pierogies with chicken apple sausage. In Toronto at the European Delight, you can order veal pierogies, among others. When in Montreal, check out the MTL Blog, for a list of restaurants serving great pierogies. The Euro Polonia restaurant in Montreal serves pierogies filled with bacon or kasha (porridge made usually from buckwheat groats). In St. John’s, Newfoundland, the Pyrohy Kitchen offers a variety of pierogi fillings.
‘Canadianizing’ the Pierogi
Of all the Canadian restaurant menus I researched, my favorite turned up in Victoria, British Columbia. It speaks loudly to what I’m talking about: Pierogies, and other foods, are constantly changing. The Sult (umlaut over the U) Pierogi Bar in Victoria takes ‘Canadianizing’ their food to a whole other level. And the ‘Pierogi Poutine’ on their menu wins first prize.
Pierogi Poutine. Where else but in Canada. This restaurant is working hard at making a genuine Canadian pierogi. The restaurant’s mission statement. I changed their dark writing to white so you can read it easier here. Besides feeding Canadians, this restaurant has a purpose.
The Pierogi Has Risen to Great Heights
If monuments speak to the popularity of a person, animal or food, then the pierogi has surely arrived in some places in the world.
This varenyky statue near the village of Synky, Cherkasy region, Ukraine. Image from Wikipedia.Some places in Canada, not to be outdone, have erected monuments to their foods. In Alberta you can combine these statues to make an entire giant meal: The Vegreville Easter egg, Mundare sausage, and the Glendon pierogi. I’ve often wondered what future Canadians might make of all these giant statues standing in the Canadian countryside. Pierogi on a Rope soap, anyone? Only in Pennsylvania, where pierogies are popular. Wonder what the favorite scents would be? Onion? Maybe a little bacon and cheddar…And, you can’t have too many pierogi ornaments hanging around.
Some Final Thoughts
In all seriousness, the pierogi has had a long and storied history among many peoples in the world. Although its origins in eastern Europe are somewhat obscure, I see a connection to far eastern dumplings made in China, Korea, Japan, southeast Asia and India. It’s not too far of a stretch to imagine these dumpling spreading from Asia into Russia and eastern Europe. And then slowly changing in composition. However, sometimes, like other innovations in history, the pierogi could have developed independently in eastern Europe.
In Canada, there is an incredible variety of pierogi fillings and toppings to choose from. Some, very traditional. Others, more exploratory, looking for that balance between traditional and Canadian experience. And then there are those pierogies that are right off the charts.
No matter what your tastes, I’m sure you will find a pierogi filling or topping out there that suits your palate.
Note: Next Blog
Now that I’ve got everyone hungry and in the food mood, I’m going to go turn the clock back a few hundred years and see what people were eating in Canada. In particular western Canada. And, how did this diet affect the their health and welfare?
Outside of Edmonton’s Green Onion Cake Man restaurant, which opened in 2018, located on 118th Ave and 91st Street.
I was surfing the web reading about all the great Canadian cuisine. And then I thought of green onion cakes, made right here in Edmonton. So famous that there is an exhibit about them at the new Royal Alberta Museum. And so popular, it was suggested they be named the City’s official food. Then I checked Wikipedia only to find that green onion cakes were not listed on its Canadian Cuisine web page. How can that be?
I texted the recently opened Green Onion Cake Man restaurant in Edmonton and asked them for an interview. Maybe they knew why their highly popular Edmonton food, now found in many major cities in North America, was not on Wiki list of Canadian cuisine? Cuisine, from East Indian to Scottish food, and everything in between, was on those lists. Why not green onion cakes?
Fresh green onion cake, from the Green Onion Cake Man restaurant. When I tasted them, I wasn’t disappointed.
Green Onion Cakes: A Little History First
Chinese green onion pancakes, or Chong Yao Beng (green onion, oil pancake) is a unleavened flatbread folded with oil and finely minced green onion. It varies somewhat in ingredients and production, depending on where it is made. Traditionally a street food, it is now served in many restaurants in North America.
There are many green onion cake recipes and cakes out there to choose from. But I had to try the ones at the Green Onion Cake Man, and ask restaurant owner, Mr. Siu To, about their Edmonton origins. And, why wasn’t this cake adopted earlier in other North American cities as more Chinese people immigrated to Canada? It wasn’t long before I got some answers.
The Green Onion Cake Man Restaurant
Current research suggests that Siu To and his wife Yeenar were the founders of green onion cakes in Canada. They started making them soon after immigrating from Shandong Province, northern China in 1975. In northern China, traditional Mandarin cooking differs from southern Cantonese cooking. ‘More simple, less ingredients’, Mr. To explained to me. But Mr. To’s cooking has caught on. Recently the green onion cake story has been covered by many news outlets, especially after the opening the Green Onion Cake Man restaurant (CBC, Edmonton Sun, The Star, Jennifer Bain).
Siu To, now 79 years old, opened the Happy Garden and the Mongolian Food Experience restaurants in the late 1970s and 80s in Edmonton. His first customers were mostly Taiwanese who really liked his cakes, even though this was not typical southern Chinese fare. According to Edmonton’s historian laureate, Chris Chang-Yen Phillips, “It represents a bit of a shift in Chinese cuisine in Alberta from being a Cantonese-style cuisine to sort of experimenting with other food traditions in China.”
But it was Edmonton’s major festivals in the 1980s, Taste of Edmonton, EdmontonFolk Fest and the Fringe, that really put green onion cakes on the map. They were great festival food favorites and Siu cooked them right there.
My interview with Mr. Siu To, showing me two of his frozen products. Read on for more details below.
One of the first questions I asked Mr. To: ‘Why all the media attention in the last few years?’ He thought it was because people like genuine food being made fresh, right in front of them. That also explains why his cakes caught on at the festivals. Because he fried them right there.And they tasted great.
I entered the restaurant. It was a small, neat place, seating about twenty people, and the emphasis was all on food, not decor. Once in the door, you looked right into the kitchen and watched the cooks preparing your dishes. It reminded me of the original The Only restaurant on East Hastings Street, Vancouver, in the 1980s. Straightforward and simple. But, some of the best seafood I have ever tasted, anywhere.
Standing at the counter of the Green Onion Cake Man, I watched as Linda made fresh green onion cakes for me to take home.
I sat down with Mr. To, hoping to find out a little more about this simple, but delightful food. After only a few minutes of chatting, I already knew one reason why his cakes were so popular. This man was passionate about his cooking. And sharing it with other Canadians. As we talked, he explained that cooking was more than throwing a bunch of ingredients into a frying pan. It was an art and had to come from the heart. I couldn’t agree more.
I asked Mr. To whether the cakes he makes are like the traditional ones in northern China? Mostly, he said. But there was one major difference (which I had not read about before). He said, traditionally green onion cakes were leavened. He explained that he uses baking powder in his cakes, instead of yeast. With baking powder it was easier to control how high the dough rose.
We got around to talking about Edmonton’s numerous festivals. I asked why he choose green onion cakes for festival food, and not something more familiar to Canadians? Like Chow Mein, for example? And not surprisingly, one reason was, practicality. By preparing the green onion cake dough beforehand, he could then quickly flatten the dough balls into cakes and fry them on site. There were fewer ingredients to prepare, fewer pots and pans to carry, than cooking Chow Mein.
My last questions dealt with the popularity and origins of green onion cakes in Canada. Mr. To explained that most Chinese immigrants to Canada came from southeast China, including Taiwan and Hong Kong. Many Chinese Canadian restaurants focused on Cantonese cooking, and not so much northern Chinese cuisine. Lucky for us, Mr. To ended up in Edmonton.
And the reason for its almost instant popularity. Simple – easy to make, easy to cook, inexpensive, and very tasty. A hard combination to beat.
Have Green Onion Cakes Spread Beyond Edmonton?
After my interview, one question remained: After over forty years of existence in Edmonton, do all areas in Canada now have those yummy green onion cakes on their menus? (I asked my wife if we could do a road trip to all major North America cities to do the research. Still waiting for an answer.)
The faster, easier way to find answers was to check the web. I typed in “green onion cake restaurants in…..,” and then the name of the city. Before I get to Canada, surprisingly the few major American cities I checked some restaurants had green onion cakes listed on their menus (New York, Boston, Chicago, Seattle, Washington DC, Los Angeles, San Diego, Los Vegas). And also, London, England and Paris, France. Certainly not like Mr. To’s originals, but something similar.
Next, I checked the major Canadian cities, especially the capitals of every province, and a few extras (i.e., Montreal, Calgary, Vancouver, Saskatoon). Did any of their Chinese restaurant menus list green onion cakes? Restaurants in seven provinces (Nova Scotia, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, Alberta, and British Columbia) listed green onion cakes. No green onion cakes on menus of any restaurants in the other six provinces (Newfoundland/Labrador, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, Nunavut, Yukon and North West Territories). The four other cities listed above had at least one restaurant that served green onion cakes (a few had over ten).
Along with these facts, and further chats with some Facebook friends, living in less populated areas of Canada, two things became apparent: 1) restaurants in the provinces with the top seven highest Chinese populations listed green onion cakes; and, 2) once you leave the high population centers, even in Alberta, green onion cakes are still a relatively unknown fare for many Canadians. I really feel for you people.
But we still don’t know whether the green onion cake idea spread from Edmonton where it originated, or, was independently conceived by new Chinese arrivals in other cities. Which ever way they spread, it required a sufficiently high Chinese population first to support this food. And that only occurred in major Canadian cities.
And like many other foods and fashions, green onion cakes are being modified according to the tastes in a particular area. In one Toronto restaurant, you can order a folded green onion cake with a chive filling. In another, the green onion cakes are thinner, flatter and flakier than what Mr. To makes.
Called ‘Chive Pockets’ on their menu, these filled pancakes from the Golden Dumpling restaurant, Toronto, look like folded green onion cakes with a filling. These thinner, flaky green onion cakes, from the Juicy Dumpling restaurant, Toronto, are similar to Mr. To’s, but with perhaps less baking powder in them.
What’s Next for the Green Onion Cake Man?
Although Mr. To isn’t exactly a spring chicken, he is still thinking of new ways to share his knowledge of northern Chinese cuisine with fellow Canadians. Now he has developed dishes for Edmontonians to cook at home.
During our interview, he brought out two samples of his frozen Chinese dishes: 1) Singapore Noodles; and, 2) Yaung Chow Fried Rice. Take them home, thaw them, cook briefly and enjoy. I can’t wait to try them.
Singapore Noodles with shrimp and a sauce to pour over the ingredients.Yaung Chow Fried Rice bowl, frozen. Just warm it up and you’re ready for a great eating experience.
Siu has now developed six frozen dishes and three frozen soups that you can cook at home. But, it wouldn’t surprise me if there is more to come.
Nothing Like the Real Thing
I had to ask Siu whether he tried green onion cakes at other restaurants. Yes, he had, but they weren’t like his. Did other restaurant owners call him for advice or for his recipe? He said, very few had but he knew they came in and tried his cakes, without talking to him.
If you are ever in Edmonton, or somewhere near 118th Avenue, go grab some green onion cakes and those new frozen dishes that you can cook at home. Even though there may be other green onion cakes out there, there’s nothing like the real thing. Made by Canada’s original Green Onion Cake Man. Mr. Siu To.
Siu To, at the Green Onion Cake Man restaurant talking to his customers.
Note: My ‘fly by the seat of my pants’ research in this article is hardly state of the art. But, it’s the best I could do on short notice, without extensively traveling. There may be other places in Canada where you might find green onion cakes, that I missed. If so, please let me know.
By current estimates, there were over three-hundred fur trade posts built in Alberta alone (there are many more in the other prairie provinces). The location of over fifty-percent of the Alberta posts is unknown. Many, like the legendary Fort La Jonquierre, built in 1751, remain a mystery. Even for the folks (that’s all of us) at Wikipedia. Here’s what I know about this mysterious French fort (parts of which are remarkably similar in the Wiki version). If it was real, and had continued as a western settlement, it might have changed the course of western Canadian history.
This enigmatic fur trade post was once on my archaeological ‘bucket list‘. Long rumored to exist, but never searched for, it has baffled historians and archaeologists for over a century. For more details, you can read my online article in the Alberta Archaeological Review. Here is a slightly shorter version of my research.
Early 18th Century Exploration of Western Canada
The struggle for control of the western fur trade, and search for a route to the Pacific Ocean, between the French and English periodically ended with the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713. Soon after, however, the French again pursued their dream – to be the first to find an inland route to the Pacific Ocean. They began to establish Postes de la Mer de l’ouest west (posts of the western Sea) to search for that route. They were ambitious, unlike their British counterparts who, as one trader later wrote, were “…content to remain asleep by the frozen sea (Hudson Bay).“
There was one major obstacle in this noble undertaking: No one really knew where exactly they were heading. Even by the 1740s, the Pacific Ocean was a mere blur, somewhere thousands of miles west, as the best available maps of the period show.
An 1740s map of the interior of western Canada and the Pacific Ocean drawn by the French Canadian Metis, Joseph La France for the Governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company, Arthur Dobbs. Not only was distance and major geographic features of the Canadian west inaccurate, no one knew which river or pass led to the Pacific Ocean from the east side of the Rocky Mountains.
Most of La France’s information, and that of other French explorers such as Pierre Gualtier de La Verendrye, was collected from First Nations’ accounts of routes to the Pacific Ocean:
“It was there [forks of the Saskatchewan Rivers] that he [La Verendrye’s son] was in the spring at the meeting of all the Cree, and where he inquired minutely, according to his father’s orders, where the source of this great river was. They all replied with one voice that it came from very far, from a height of land where there were very lofty mountains; that they knew of a great lake on the other side of the mountains, the water of which was undrinkable.” (a French memoir, in Dugas 1905:487: brackets mine)
[Note: One historian thinks that the ‘lofty mountains’ in this account was the Missouri Coteau, and the great lake was Chaplin Lake (very salty), Saskatchewan. Even that chain of hills between Moose Jaw and Swift Current, is hardly ‘lofty’. And Chaplin Lake was not really that big.]
The Mysterious Fort La Jonquierre
In order to reach the Pacific, the French wanted to build a line of forts along the Saskatchewan River, including one at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. This was no easy undertaking. However, by 1751 they had established a fort (La Corne) at the forks of the Saskatchewan Rivers. According to Legardeur de St. Pierre, one of La Verendrye’s successors:
“I promised to all the tribes that M. de Niverville would go and create an establishment nine hundred miles farther up than that on the Paskoyac. I agreed with all the tribes that they should unite with me at that new trading post.” (from Dugas 1905:96)
Paskoyac refers to the present day The Pas, Manitoba, located along the Saskatchewan River. St. Pierre’s statement provides a distance and possible geographical landmark for the fort. And later St. Pierre wrote again:
“…was executed on 29th May, 1751. He sent off ten men in two canoes, who ascended the river Paskoya [Saskatchewan] as far as the Rocky Mountains, where they made a good fort, which I named Fort la Jonquierre….“
This quote refers to a slightly better landmark. The Saskatchewan River, or one of its forks (either the North Saskatchewan, the Bow River, or even the Red Deer River). But, even if we believe these entries (and I personally do), would there be any archaeological remains left? What exactly did they build? St. Pierre later wrote about La Jonquierre:
“…met with a nation loaded with beaver, who were going by a river which issues from the Rocky Mountains, to trade with the French, who had their first establishment on an island at a small distance from the land, where there is a large storehouse…”
Then in 1757, Louis-Antoine De Bougainville wrote: “The posts of the Western Sea includes St. Pierre, St. Charles, Bourbon, De la Rheine, Dauphin, Posakoiac and Des Prairies [De la Jonquierre?], all of which are built with palisades that can give protection only against the Indians.” The Des Prairies forts could also refer to St. Louis and La Corne. So, this reference is somewhat dubious.
An old voyageur told Abbe Dugas in early 1900s that the fort was located above Calgary, on the Bow River. He claimed that when First Nations people passed the spot, they cast a stone on it, and, “….in truth there is a heap of stone there.” However, what exactly that heap of stone represented is anyone’s guess. Perhaps a fireplace from the fort but other options exist (burial, later fur trade post, farmer’s field rock collection, etc.).
The location and physical evidence of a fort would then consist of the following: 1) located near the foot of the Rocky mountains, on an island in a river (either Bow, Red Deer, or North Saskatchewan); 2) containing at least one building (perhaps with a cellar) and a possible palisade; and, 3) artifacts that represented the time period in question. Assuming the original location was undisturbed (and not swept away by the river), the archaeological record would consist of: 1) building wood foundation logs and maybe a cellar depression; 2) a palisade footer trench; and, 3) 18th century artifacts (hopefully a few with a short manufacturing period).
The map below shows roughly where nine-hundred miles west from Paskoyac places you on those rivers. The problem however, is that there are many islands on these rivers, as a piece of the Bow River above Calgary shows (below).
Approximate position of La Jonquierre on major rivers leading into the Rocky Mountains. This estimate would have had to be very general. Distance west (longitude) was very hard to accurately measure. And estimating distance along winding rivers, in varying currents, was even more difficult. A section of the Bow River, above Calgary, Alberta. There are many islands in the Bow River. The problem is compounded because former islands are now part of the mainland and others simply eroded over time. Even if we could narrow the spot down to a few islands, finding those sparse fort physical features would still be very difficult (more on searching methods in a future article).
Here’s what a fort palisade footer trench and cellar depression would look like:
Palisade footer trenches and corner bastion, NWC Fort George (c.1792-1800). The trench, or ditch, was sometimes up to a metre deep, depending on the height of the palisade. It leaves a very visible footprint on and in the ground, even when the ground is disturbed (i.e., cultivated). At inland fur trade sites the palisade pales (vertical posts) are still preserved after remaining in the ground for over two-hundred years. I have walked along still visible (on the ground surface) fort palisade footer trench depressions, over two-hundred years old, in the dense undergrowth along the Peace River.This large cellar depression at the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) is still nearly two metres deep, even after many flooding episodes of the lower terrace of the Peace River.
There are Skeptics
Not everyone agrees that the French built a fort this high on the Saskatchewan River, for various reasons: 1) questionable documents; neither St. Pierre or De Bougainville ever saw the fort; they just wrote about it; 2) traveling from The Pas, Manitoba, at ice-breakup on the Saskatchewan River to the Rocky Mountains, by the 29th of May was questionable; and, 3) no physical evidence of the fort was ever found. I won’t go into detail about these arguments, or counter-arguments. If interested, you can read more in my 2000 article.
Some Final Thoughts
I’m fairly convinced that Fort La Jonquierre existed and its remains, if not destroyed, lie somewhere in Alberta. No one has ever seriously looked for the fort, so the argument about the lack of physical evidence just doesn’t cut it.
If I were to ever look, I would start above Calgary and check all the major islands in the Bow River. Both on the ground and with Lidar (Light Detection and Ranging) Imagery.
It’s interesting to think that if the fort had been built near Calgary, Alberta, and the French had prevailed before withdrawing from the west again after the Seven Years War (1756 – 1763), Calgary may have been named La Jonquierre.
“And the La Jonquierre Flammes win the Stanley Cup….”
On a final, somewhat more serious note, when I worked for the Government of Alberta, one of our branch mandates was to protect and manage our archaeological resources. That’s not easy to do if you don’t know where they are. The sometimes frustrating thing about historical archaeology, is that often there is an accompanying documentary record that suggests forts or other settlements existed. We just can’t find them. And the reason why? The physical obstacles are formidable when we search for these places.
In future blogs, I’ll give you some examples of just how tough it is to find a fort site after two-hundred years, and describe some new noninvasive methods we use to help make the task a little easier.
References Cited:
Bougainville, Louis-Antoine de. 1908. Memoir of Bougainville: 1757. In The French Regime in Wisconsin, edited by Reuban G. Thwaites, pp. 167-195. Wisconsin Historical Collections.
Dugas, Abbe. 1905. The Canadian West. Librairie Beauchemin, Montreal.
Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, Jacques Repeniguy. 1887. Memoir of Summary Journal of the Expedition of Jacques Repeniguy Legardeur de Saint-Pierre Charged with the Discovery of the Western Sea. In Report on Canadian Archives, 1886. Note C., pp.xiviii-clxix.
Canadians, for the most part, used wood as the material of choice to build their homes. For hundreds of years. The construction methods however, have changed over that period of time. And when we go back to the 17th and 18th centuries, some of the methods seem foreign to us today. Here is a brief chronological rundown (starting with the most recent) of those building construction methods, ending with some very unique ones I have seen in Alberta.
I’ll quickly summarize the modern techniques which are elaborated on elsewhere. Also, J. Gottfred has extensively covered log building construction techniques, and I (Pyszczyk, 1992) have also written extensively on western Canadian log construction techniques (more from an archaeological perspective).
Depending on where you live, current stud frame house construction started sometime in the early 20th century. Here uniformly cut 2″ x 4″ or 2″ x 6″ ‘studs’, 8′ – 10′ long were used to build the building frame. The studs for walls only extended one storey, and then the entire process was repeated at the 2nd and 3rd stories. Wall infill consisted of various materials to insulate the building. The interior and exterior was then clad with a variety of materials. This construction technique uses large quantities of nails or screws to join everything together.
Balloon Frame Building Construction
Said to date from the 1830’s – 1930s in the US, the balloon frame house shown in this photograph differs mainly from the stud frame house by the length of the studs which extend all the way to the roof line in the former (even in a second or third storey building). As with modern stud framing, infill and cladding consisted of various materials, and everything hung together with nails. Some people think the ‘balloon’ description for this building method originated from its skeptics believing it would blow away in a severe wind, like a balloon. (Courtesy of Scott Sidler)
The Old Bay House, Fort Vermilion, Alberta, shown on the front page of my web site, constructed in c.1908, is a balloon frame building. One of the oldest in Alberta. I’d be guessing if I tried dating this method in various parts of Canada (if any of you have more information on this method in Canada, I’d love to hear from you). It likely first appears in areas having access to standardized milled lumber.
Inside of the Old Bay House, Fort Vermilion, Alberta, showing wood interior wall and ceiling cladding.
Massed Log Building Construction
This technique consists of laying a series of horizontal logs on top of one another and connecting them with various types of notching on the corners of the building. It has various names and origins, and appears at different times in different parts of Canada. The French called it “pièce sur pièce” (piece on piece) construction. The cracks between the logs were chinked and the interior walls were sometimes mudded (more on that later). The technique is ‘wood heavy’, requiring large, long, straight logs, which are left rounded or squared. Few nails are used in this technique; logs are joined by wooden dowels at intervals along the wall.
The dovetail corner notching method is one of the most elaborate techniques found in western Canada (shown below). The angled joints in this method don’t require overhang (as in a saddle notched corner) and prevent the corners from coming apart. There are many good examples in Alberta, but some of the best I have seen come from the central and northern parts of the province.
This somewhat unique log building, at Carcajou, Alberta, has dovetail corner notching and logs only squared near the corners; the rest are left round. Carcajou was one of the earliest Metis settlements in Alberta, already shown on David Thompson’s 1826 map, as ‘Wolverine Point‘. In this community, this technique might have had a French Canadian influence. This building dates to the late 19th – early 20th century.This log building, constructed in 1987 by the Hudson’s Bay Company, at Carcajou, Alberta, also has dovetail corner notching. The ethnic origins of its builder are unknown. The Company at this time hired people with different ethnic backgrounds, including French Canadians.Close up view of the Carcajou HBC log building showing a series of round auger marks in the logs. The marks were used to number the logs, suggesting that this building had been dismantled and repaired, or dismantled and moved.
Massed log corner notching construction technique, probably the most familiar to many people, is also difficult to date in Canada. In some parts of the country it likely goes back as far as the beginnings of basic log construction, with a simple saddle notched log cabin at the lake or woods. And being built as recently as the last decade. In Alberta, the earliest dated example of dovetail notching is the clerk’s quarters at Dunvegan (c.1878 – present-day). The first Ukrainian immigrants (late 19th century) in Alberta used the dovetail notching method as well. Here are a few more examples of this technique. Assigning any definitive ethnic affiliation to these methods is problematic. There are likely many.
Top Left Photograph: The clerk’s quarter, Hudson’s Bay Company, Dunvegan, Alberta (c.1878 – present).
Bottom Right Photograph: A close-up view of the clerk’s quarters building corner showing the elaborate dovetail corner notching.Old cabin, near Buck Lake, Alberta. Massed log saddle notching construction technique. Date unknown.
Red River Frame/Post-and-Plank
Also referred to as poteaux et pièce coulissante (posts and sliding piece), Gottfred suggests this method was adapted in New France from the French method of plankwall framing. In the much colder Canadian winter, logs replaced planks. In this method upright logs were grooved (mortised) and set along the building walls and corners at intervals, and then horizontal logs filled in the rest of the wall by carving tenons on the ends which fit into the uprights (Tongue and groove, mortise and tenon). The technique uses shorter (than massed log construction) infill logs between the vertical uprights. It uses few nails. Instead wood dowels along the walls and corners kept everything together.
I have seen two types of log wall framing methods in western Canada: 1) Post-on-sill; and, 2) Post-in-ground (see schematic diagram below). Post-on-sill was used after c.1830 by the Hudson’s Bay Company at many of its inland forts. Post-in-ground is an earlier form of framed log construction, going back to the 1780s in Alberta, and probably much earlier at the Saskatchewan and Manitoba fur trade posts. With this method the vertical posts are set in pits in the ground. At the turn of the 19th century we also see combinations of the two methods, such as at the HBC Nottingham House in northern Alberta. However this method should not be confused with the true post-in-ground (Poteaux-en-terre) method used earlier in French Canada (discussed later).
Pretend you are looking at a vertical wall and a cut-away of the ground in this image. These were the two most common log framed construction techniques for the various fur trade companies in western Canada. Archaeologically, the post-in-ground method is easy to identify because of the large pits dug to place the posts in, up to a metre deep in the ground. For some reason this method was abandoned in favor of the post-on-sill method, which eventually gave way to the massed dovetail log construction method. All of the excavated buildings at the North West Company Fort George (c1792-1800), Alberta, were constructed using the post-in-ground method. In this photograph we exposed a vertical wood post in a pit with horizontal wood sills (foundation logs) butting up to it (likely tenoned into it). This scaled drawing of a building wall found at the North West Company, Boyer’s Fort (c.1788-1792) shows a vertical post in a pit with the building sills (base logs) butting up to it Excavations of the main house, at the HBC Buckingham House site, northern Alberta, showing some post pits holding the vertical posts of building walls, and the corner posts sitting on sills. Courtesy Karlis Karklins, Parks Canada. One of the large warehouses at the c.1830 – 1915 HBC Fort Edmonton, Alberta being dismantled. A good example of post-on-sill-construction where the squared horizontal infill logs were inserted into the grooved vertical logs along the wall of the building. A large vertical timber is laying in the foreground of this c.1915 photograph. With this method the entire building could be taken apart and repaired, or moved and built elsewhere with relative ease. This particular fort building was built in the c.1860s when the fort expanded. When traveling, I’m always on the lookout for log buildings. A large barn structure, New South Wales, Australia. A kind of post-in-ground framed log construction technique without the bottom logs. Adapted for either better ventilation, or flooding, for which parts of Australia are notorious.
Original Post-in-Ground (Poteaux-en-terre) and Post-on-Sill (Poteaux-sur-sol) Construction
Unfortunately, there is some confusion with all these similar architectural terms. The original 17th century French versions of Post-in-Ground and Post-on-sill log construction refer to entirely different log construction method. In this method the logs for the entire wall are all placed vertically, either in a trench in the ground, or sat on a horizontal foundation log (sill), or stones. The spaces between them were filled with stone, bricks and mud. As the images below show, they have a very distinct archaeological imprint making them readily recognizable.
Post-on-sill vertical log wall construction. An early French Canadian method where cracks between the vertical walls are filled with stones, bricks, plaster or mud. Courtesy: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing_of_Poteaux-en-Terre_in_the_Beauvais_House_in_Ste_Genevieve_MO.pngImage of a rowhouse, Fort Michilimackinac (c.1715 -30). Vertical wood wall posts would either sit on a sill or in a trench in the ground. (from Stone, 1974) French House (c.1720-30), Fort Michilimackinac (from Stone, 1974). This small French house at the fort was definitely French post-in-ground construction. The archaeological evidence would reveal vertical post remains standing side-by-side in a trench. We searched for this building construction method in western Canada, but to no avail. Even though many of the early forts were likely constructed by French Canadians. I thought I had found a vertical building wall at the 1798 NWC LaFleur’s post in the Peace River Region. Later I realized that a new building had been constructed over a former old palisade wall which would have had similar vertical posts sitting in a trench.
The post-in-ground method originated in France, possibly the Normandy area. Here vertical posts for the wall were placed in the ground, and filled in between with either brick or stones. In the much colder climates of Canada the entire wall was made of vertical wood and covered by mud or plaster to prevent drafts and heat loss (from Russell Versaci, 2008)
Mud, the Plaster of Yesterday
Whenever I lecture on log construction techniques, I emphasize the importance of mud, or some mud/clay mixture, during construction. Many of the 18th – 19th century framed log buildings we excavated in Alberta used a mixture of mud/clay/straw to chink the outside walls. Sometimes entire the interior building walls were completely mudded. Also stone fireplaces and chimneys were covered with mud as well. I think the mud was not only used to prevent drafts from coming through the cracks between the logs, but when the interior walls or fireplace was mudded (as much as two inches thick) the mud worked as a heat sink absorbing the heat from the fire and retaining it in the mud walls.
Mud outer wall chinking on this building from Carcajou, Alberta. A branch or sapling was inserted into the crack (because it was large) and then the entire area filled with mud.
The importance of good mud or clay for this type of log building construction cannot be overstated: “I arrived at the entrance of Riviere Original…I brought the goods,however, to a large point on the south-east of the lake, and wrought two or three days at felling trees, but, to my great mortification we then discovered there was no clay to be found within five leagues of us.” (Angus Shaw, NWC, 1789, near Moose Lake, Alberta)
Top Left Photograph: A schematic drawing of the willow lathe framework placed diagonally over the log inside walls of Angus Shaw’s big house at the NWC Fort George (c.1792-1800).
Lower Right Photograph: Fired mud chinking and wall suggesting that the building burned down. And by doing so the mud became fired and hard as brick. The impressions in the fired mud told us whether the wall logs were squared or rounded and if lathing had been placed on them. I have seen cut lathing on the inside walls of early 20th century Ukrainian houses in Alberta, to keep the mud in place. (Images from Kidd, 1970)Top Left Photograph: Still standing (at least in the early 20th century) stone and mud fireplace, Fort Reliance, NWT. Similar fireplaces were built at other 18th-19th century fur trade posts. The chimney is made of logs and sticks, covered in mud. A similar fireplace chimney was noted in some fur trade journals: “…fixed Poles to the chimney of Mr. McLeod’s upper Room in order to heighten it.” (Daily Transactions, Fort Dunvegan, Alberta).
Bottom Right Photograph: A single stone fireplace at the NWC Fort George, Alberta (now on display at the Royal Alberta Museum). After being abandoned the mud from the fireplace and chimney oozed over the charred floor remains, preserving them perfectly.
Not Everything was Wood
I’ll end this post with one of the most unusual houses I have ever set my eyes on in Alberta. ‘Soddies’ were a common form of building construction on the Canadian prairies where wood was rare. But in central Alberta? Below is a still-standing (I hope) sod and wood framed house in east central Alberta. A truly unique and rather unorthodox home.
This wood framed house, with sod infill for walls, was built in east-central Alberta. Perhaps one of the most unique houses I have ever seen. According to Government of Alberta files: 1907 – Homestead filed and smaller sod house built; 1910 – House built; 1911 – Exterior plastered with lime and sand, and interior finished with Beaverboard; 1950 – last occupied. (Photographs and information Courtesy of Historic Sites Service, Government of Alberta) A close-up view of the sod infill used to fashion the walls of this house. The sod was then covered with plaster and beaverboard. Unfortunately, this exposed part of the wall now makes for a great nesting area for barn swallows. As with straw bale wall construction, the trick here is to completely seal the wall to prevent rodents or other critters from getting in. (Photographs and information Courtesy of Historic Sites Service, Government of Alberta)
What is ‘Canadian‘?
As Canadians we have a long tradition of building our homes with wood. And we continue to do so. For example, in 2019 there were a total of 187,177 houses built in Canada, and I would think most of them were wood framed structures.
Some of the Canadian wood building methods used over the centuries occur in other places in North America and the world. Assigning specific dates, or origin, or builder ethnic affiliation, is risky and cannot always be generalized. The examples I give here are mostly from western Canada, and dates, ethnic affiliation or construction methods, will vary elsewhere in the country and continent.
But, there are some Canadian wood building methods that were adapted from Europe to deal with our often harsh Canadian environment, peoples’ specific needs, or their economies. They are truly our own. They are Canadian.
References
Kidd, Robert, 1970. Archeological Excavations at the Probable Site of the First Fort Edmonton or Fort Augustus, 1795 to Early 1800’s”. Provincial Museum of Alberta Human History Occasional Paper No. 3. Alberta Culture and Multiculturalism Historical Resources Division, 1987.
Pyszczyk, Heinz, 1992. The Architecture of the Western Canadian Fur Trade: A Cultural-Historical Perspective. Society for the Study of Architecture in Canada, 17(2):32-41.
Stone, Lyle M., 1974. Fort Michilimackinac, 1715-1781. An Archaeological Perspective on the Revolutionary Frontier. Publications of the Museum Michigan State University.
Versaci, Russell, 2008. Roots of Home. Our Journey to a New Old House. The Taunton Press.
Tobacco was an integral part of the Canadian fur trade. It was smoked, chewed and snuffed. It was traded and gifted to Indigenous peoples, and consumed by both men and women. One of the most common ways of smoking tobacco was with a clay tobacco pipe. However, not all pipes were made of clay. This is a story of one of the most interesting and unusual types of tobacco pipes I have run across – a stone tobacco pipe.
Metis dog driver, Lac La Biche, Alberta, smoking a clay tobacco pipe. (Arthur Heming sketch, courtesy of Glenbow Archives)
Clay Tobacco Pipes
Whenever we excavate at the inland fur trade posts in Canada, one of the most common artifacts we recover are clay tobacco pipe fragments. These pipes are the remnants of smoking activities at these posts. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes. At the end of the 18th century the stem on some of these pipes, known as Churchwardens, was nearly three feet long. Only the upper classes smoked them while the laborers smoked the shorter stemmed cuttie.
Man smoking the excessively long-stemmed churchwarden tobacco pipe.
These two clay tobacco pipes were recovered from the c.1830 – 1917 Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Edmonton. Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. The pipes were made from ball clay and mostly manufactured in Europe. While they were relatively cheap, they were also quite fragile.
Many of the 18th and 19th century clay tobacco pipes shipped to the inland posts, were made in Europe. The Hudson’s Bay Company imported most of their pipes from England. Many of the pipe bowls and stems were stamped sometimes with the maker’s name or initials. It wasn’t until the latter half of the 19th century that a Canadian clay pipe industry took hold in eastern Canada. Bannerman of Montreal clay pipes were shipped to the Alberta fur trade posts.
These tobacco pipe fragments came from the Northwest/Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) site. This pipe bowl has the letters ‘TD’ stamped on it. It refers to Thomas Dormer, a pipe maker in England during the late 18th – early 19th centuries.
Ornate clay tobacco pipe stem fragments with floral designs. In the second half of the 19th century many pipes had very elaborate decorations on them. Some of the bowls even had faces on them. The bottom stem has ‘Baltic’ (origins unknown) stamped on it, probably referring to the manufacturer. These fragments were recovered from the HBC Fort Edmonton (c.1830-1917), Alberta.Hudson’s Bay Company men smoking outside of Fort Edmonton (1871), on what are now the Alberta legislature grounds. The Company inventories list thousands of pounds of tobacco shipped to these inland posts. These men might have been smoking one of the pipes above. (Photograph by Charles Horetzky, Library and Archives of Canada/c-7534)
The Somewhat Puzzling History of Western Canadian Stone Tobacco Pipes
But not all pipes were made of clay. When we excavated the North West Company Fort George (c.1792-1800) site in east-central Alberta we found platform (a type) tobacco pipes made from soapstone, pipestone or local mudstone. They were found in domestic household refuse along with many other common fur trade artifacts (beads, buttons, etc.). These pipes are poorly documented.
This rare, complete mudstone tobacco pipe was found at Fort George, Alberta. The mudstone occurs in round nodules found in the North Saskatchewan Sands and Gravels. We found the mud balls and partially finished pipes in the household refuse at the site.
We often speculated who made and smoked these pipes. They certainly were not European. Or, so we initially thought. And, what were they doing in Alberta, Canada?
Peter Rindisbacher painting, 1821, Red River, showing a First Nations family smoking. The man is smoking a stone elbow pipe. And the woman is smoking what looks like a stone platform pipe similar to the one found at Fort George.
Initially we thought these pipes were made by local Indigenous men or women working at the western Canadian fur trade forts. But there is no record of this kind of pipe being used prior to White contact in Alberta. Only recently I realized that these pipes were similar to Iroquois platform pipes. Iroquois? In Alberta? Well, yes. The Northwest Company brought Iroquois hunters out west to trap furs in the late 18th – early 19th centuries. (The community of ‘Calahoo’, Alberta is named after an Alberta Iroquoian family.)
This image of an Iroquois man smoking tobacco from what looks like a platform stone pipe. Many stone pipe fragments, similar to the Alberta pipes, have been found at St. Lawrence Iroquoian archaeological sites. (photo image courtesy of Marie-Helene Daviau, 2008)
I thought at this point at least we now knew the possible origins of this pipe style. Quite possibly brought west by the Iroquois hunters who lived at the forts. But then, after seeing the image below, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
In this image, taken from the cover of Daviau’s monograph, shows a French Canadian farmer smoking what looks like a stone platform pipe. (Frederick von Germann, 1778) In 1749, Peter Kalm noted the French Canadian woodsmen borrowed this style from the Iroquois of the St. Lawrence River Valley (Daviau 2008:189).
The North West Company hired many French Canadians to work at their inland western Canadian posts. These men made up the famous canoe brigades and worked mostly as laborers at the posts when not paddling. So, it is entirely possible that they brought their stone pipes with them, or fashioned them out of local material at the forts.
We found similar stone pipe fragments at the remote northern Alberta fur trade posts, such as Fort Vermilion, Peace River region. But the peculiar markings on these pipes add a bit of a twist to the story.
This stone tobacco pipe base (the bowl on the top is missing), found at Fort Vermilion, Alberta, is of the platform variety, but with some unusual circle-and-dot markings on it. We are still trying to figure out how these perfectly symmetrical circles were incised into the stone. Possibly by a small auger bit.
Over the years I have noticed artifacts with similar circle-and-dot markings on them in other western Canadian fur trade assemblages. The circle-and-dot motif is an Athabaskan symbol that has a geographical distribution ranging from central Alberta to northwestern Alaska. Was this tobacco pipe style adopted by Athabaskan-speaking people who then put their markings on it? Quite possibly. Interestingly, in Alberta the style seems to disappear by the 1840s.
Bone artifacts from Rocky Mountain House, Jasper House and Dunvegan, showing the circle-and-dot motif. Left to right: Quill smoother; bone fragment; bone flesher.
A Few Final Thoughts
Occasionally archaeologists recover artifacts from a documented period of Canadian history whose origins and uses are puzzling. Not all material culture is well documented. Especially when it belongs to people who aren’t doing any of the documenting. These objects were likely made and used by Indigenous people and/or French Canadian voyageurs (who were mostly illiterate) – a people without a written history. In the case of the stone tobacco pipes, careful dating and geographic location are extremely important to figure out their possible origins and uses.
References
Daviau, Marie-Helen. 2008. La Pipe de pierre dans la societe conadienne des XVII et XIX siecles. Centre interuniversitaire d’etudes sur les letters, les arts et les traditions (CELAT), Quebec.
Heinz W. Pyszczyk. 2015. The Last Fort Standing: Fort Vermilion and the Peace River Fur Trade, 1798-1830. Occasional Papers of the Archaeological Society of Alberta. Number 14.
Note: In my next post, I’ll tell you about another unusual tobacco pipe in the fur trade. However, before I reveal more about this artifact, I will write a short story about it first.
The northern community of Fort Vermilion, Alberta, Canada. The circled area is the location of the second (c.1830-c.1917) Hudson’s Bay Company, Fort Vermilion.
Sometimes the Meanings of Place Names Have a Surprising History
Place names in Canada usually say something about geography (Two-Hills, Alberta), political or ethnic affiliations (Shackleton, Saskatchewan), events (Cut Knife, Saskatchewan), or plants and animals (Frog Lake, Alberta). Or sometimes just the name of the first local postmaster. In my last post I talked about the meaning and origins of Cabri, Saskatchewan. In this post I examine the meaning of Fort Vermilion, Alberta. At first glance the name seems straightforward, but with further research, is also a bit confusing. Perhaps even a little misleading.
I spent over thirty years doing research in this area. Like everyone else, I assumed that Fort Vermilion referred to the ochre sources in the area. But, my latest bit of research suggests otherwise.
Fort Vermilion, Alberta
When talking to the locals and checking out the web site, Fort Vermilion got its name from, “…the vermilion coloured clays lining the river banks.” When you read that phrase carefully, it suggests that at this particular place, Fort Vermilion, there are red clays containing enough iron oxide to make an ochre the same color as vermilion. Clearly the community was not named after vermilion per se, only the color of vermilion. Before we go any further, vermilion and ochre are different materials:
Vermilion – a brilliant red pigment made from cinnabar.
Vermilion
Ochre – an earthy pigment containing ferric oxide, typically in clay, varying from light yellow to brown or red.
Ochre
Cinnabar – a mineral containing toxic mercury sulfide (HgS). It is a brilliant red color. Humans used it as a pigment in paint for thousands of years in many parts of the world. Until they realized it was highly toxic.
Cinnabar. One of the few places in Canada where you can find Cinnabar is Pinchi Lake, British Columbia.
A Brief History of Fort Vermilion
In 1788 the northwest Company’s Charles Boyer, established a post near the confluence of the Boyer and Peace Rivers. The post only lasted four years and then the Company moved downriver and established Aspen House near La Crete, Alberta. By 1798 they were on the move again and built LaFleur’s Post even further downriver.
In 1821 the Northwest Company and the Hudson’s Bay Company amalgamated becoming the Hudson’s Bay Company. Colin Campbell became the clerk at the original LaFleur’s fort but changed the name to Fort Vermilion. Initially I thought he was referring to the reddish colored clays in the area. But now I wonder. In 1830, the Hudson’s Bay Company abandoned the post and built a new one in the present community of Fort Vermilion.
The middle Peace River area, home to the Beaver First Nations, was an important area during the late 18th – 19th century fur trade. Numerous forts were built by the Northwest, Hudson’s Bay, and XY Companies. As an archaeologist, specializing in fur trade history, this place was special for me.
Problems of location
The first obvious problem is that the original name of Fort Vermilion refers to a different fort that was located in a different place. However, rest assured residents of Fort Vermilion, there are clay-like deposits with iron content near your community, probably to make ochre. No need to rush out and change the name just yet. (Perhaps later, when you read the rest of this post).
Brownish/reddish iron deposits oozing out of the bank of the Peace River, near Fort Vermilion. There are also ironstone nodules (which contain iron oxides) in the gravels.
Problems of Meaning
But, was Colin Campbell really referring to ochre which resembled the color of vermilion? One day I was reading the Fort Vermilion journals, again (for the hundredth time), researching a novel I am working on (to be published in the not-so-near future). And I ran across these references: October 21, 1841: “Most Indians equipped: Preparing for a GrandDance before leaving. Give them the usual allowance tobacco & paintor vermilion…” (HBC Fort Vermilion Journal). Then again In 1844: August 20th, 1844: “…although the Sabbath Indians have their animal dance for which I allowed them tobacco & vermilion.”
Was Campbell referring to real vermilion or the local ochre? I checked the earlier fort inventory lists and ‘vermilion’ is listed in the goods coming in from Hudson Bay and Europe. Its likely the real thing – vermilion. Now that folks is a little scary because if it was truly vermilion and First Nations applied it to their faces or arms, then it would have had some nasty effects. Vermilion is quite toxic.
In an earlier journal reference I read: “Beaver Indians frightened of devils, strangers, can’t sleep & very uneasy.” (August 23, 1840, HBC Journal) I can’t, in all honesty, say that the paint was causing these problems, but the description is suggestive of some classic symptoms of mercury poisoning.
Before you go on a rant about this being yet another example of the mistreatment of Canada’s Indigenous people, let’s put this topic into proper historical perspective. In the 19th century no one really knew how toxic mercury was. Or vermilion. And the proof of their ignorance? They used it in paints for centuries. They also used lead and mercury in the beaver felt hat making process, exposing themselves to this poison. And, as a hatter if you were exposed long enough to this stuff, you became ‘mad as a hatter.’ And the gentlemen in Europe wore those mercury, lead-laced hats on their heads! And lastly, why would you poison the people who you are trading with?
Beaver felt hat. Beaver pelts were the economic driver of Canada during the 18th and 19th century. Millions of beaver hats were made during this period. Ironically, the author, when working on the new Royal Alberta Museum exhibits, could not find a single beaver felt hat in any Canadian museum. They seem to be as rare as hen’s teeth.
What Does the Archaeology Say?
Occasionally, when the moon and stars are in perfect alignment, the archaeological record can act as an independent source of verification of historical facts. In 2016, while excavating at the 1798-1830 LaFleur’s/Vermilion post, we got lucky. Very lucky. We came across this brightly colored red stain in one of the old building cellars. What is this stuff? Ochre or Vermilion? To me, just from looking at the color, it looks more like vermilion than ochre. Time will tell. We are in the process of analyzing this goo to see what it really is.
Excavations at the 1798-1830 Northwest/Hudson’s Bay Company LaFleur’s Post/Fort Vermilion. This layer of brilliant red ‘stuff’ was found near a copper kettle in one of the refilled fort cellars. My colleague, Shawn Bubel, University of Lethbridge, will analyze it to see what it is composed of.
Some Final Thoughts About the Meaning of Place
Over the years I have read many historic documents. I am fully aware of the baggage they sometimes carry: Opinionated, biased, factually inaccurate, etc. Some topics are worse than others. When I think about the naming of place, I am still uncertain what to believe. After looking at many names in Canada, it doesn’t seem like a spur of the moment kind of thing – to name a place. It usually means something related to the area. Or perhaps, no one could think of one, so the postmaster’s last name have to do.
What was Colin Campbell thinking when he renamed his new fort ‘Vermilion’? Honestly, I’m not sure. Was it because the HBC was trading vermilion to the Natives? Was it because he saw the Natives wearing paint that looked like vermilion? Was it because he saw outcrops along the river banks that looked like vermilion? Have I missed any other possibilities? Probably. But one thing is certain. The color red influenced his decision. Understanding names is never a simple matter.
PS: I’m just about done with names and places – for now. Maybe I’ll continue with poisons and health for a while. Stay tuned.
I thought a little winter humor, with all the snow and cold we’re getting, is in order. And also, a few more thoughts about signage in Canada.
Signs In Canada? – Turtle Crossing
When I took a picture of this sign, I thought I was being quite clever. I posted it on Face Book thinking there can’t be another sign like it in Canada. Wrong. One of my Facebook friends posted back, saying there was another one out there. And, if there are two, maybe there are more?…..
I saw this sign at Ruby Lake, British Columbia, Canada, on our way to Powell River. I can picture it all now. Lines of cars backed up for miles in either direction, patiently waiting for the painted turtle to cross the highway. Finally, someone gets out of a car, picks it up and carries it to the other side.
Not In Canada – Beware of Snakes
While visiting the Australian outback in Mungo Mungo National Park, New South Wales, I was just about to enter the men’s washroom when I saw this sign. Needless to say all desire to go to the bathroom left me. Maybe the staff wanted to humor us ‘Canucks’ a little. Not funny.
Never in Canada? I won’t fall for that one again. I thought I saw a rattlesnake crossing sign somewhere near Empress, Alberta. But maybe it was just my imagination.
Sprinting Moose
Beware of the bipedal patriotic Canadian Moose. A new species – Alces alces bipedia. Found only in Canada.
What?
Only a foreigner or a Canadian who visited Europe would get this one. I remember walking into a washroom in Paris in 1971, looking for the toilet. All I found was a hole in the ground where the toilet should have been.
And if I were the French I would put an equally obscure sign up in the washrooms for Canadians only, that the French wouldn’t understand. It would look something like this:
The Sign of My Dreams
Wherever this is, I’m going.
Which Way?
Maybe that last sign is located in one of these directions.Way better than the last one. Only two choices. Probably designed by a computer programmer.
I’m So Relieved
Well, if war ever starts, I know where I’m heading.
The Signs, ‘They Are A Changin’
‘We Don’t Care’ What? If you’re lopsided?
No Way This is a Canadian Sign
No way a Canadian made this sign. We know who you are though.
Equality in Canadian Signs
After reading my post on Indigenous signs in Alberta, my better half reminded me that further north and in the Canadian Arctic its not unusual to see a lot of Inuit signage and place names. And, she’s right. Ivvavik, Akiavik, Kittigazuit, Tuktoyaktuk, Aklavik, Inuvik…..
In the Yukon and British Columbia, you might see Indigenous signs such as this one at Kathleen Lake and other places.
But, Where’s the Balance?
Recognizing Indigenous places or bilingualism in Canada is all fine, to a point. But where do we stop? We are a pluralistic society in many parts of Canada. Maybe this sign below is our future (designed by the author)?
Is this Canada’s future? On the other side you might find Mandarin, Japanese, and some middle eastern languages as well. No matter, as soon as we start down this path who knows where it will end. And its not who we include on the sign, its who we leave out that could be considered insulting.
Somehow marine signs managed to avoided getting loaded with cultural baggage. No words of any kind here. Totally neutral. You are expected to know what this symbol means when boating.
The Pronghorn (Antilocapra americana) of the Canadian prairies (the only surviving member of the family Antilocapridae). Neither a true antelope or goat, its closest living relatives are (believe it or not) giraffes and okapi.
Meaning in Place Names
Sometimes the name of a place survives through history, but its meaning and origins are murky. There are many places in Canada like that. Like Cabri, Saskatchewan.
As Canadians, we drive by endless road signs and names of places. We usually never think too much about them. Just another place on a map to get us from point A to point B. Occasionally the synapses between our ears fire driving along those long stretches of road. And we ask, “I wonder what that name means?” Unfortunately, some scribe was not always there to write down the meaning and origins of those places.
Cabri, Saskatchewan, down Highway 32.
Towns Along Highway 32, Saskatchewan
Cabri is located in southwestern Saskatchewan along Highway 32, built along the once the Canadian Pacific Railway’s Empress Line.
Towns along Highway 32, Southwest Saskatchewan. Get out a Google map if you can’t read this smaller version very well.
A List of Town Names Along Highway 32
Let’s look at the names of those towns down Highway 32, starting with Leader: Leader – Prelate – Sceptre – Portreeve – Lancer – Abbey – Shackleton – Cabri – Battrum – Pennant – Success – Cantuar.
Leader was named after the then Regina Morning Leader newspaper. A prelate is a bishop or other high ecclesiastical dignitary in medieval England. A sceptre is an ornamental staff carried by rulers as a symbol of sovereignty. Such as English Royalty.
A portreeve is an English historical official possessing authority (political, administrative, or fiscal) over a town. A lancer carries a lance in battle, either on foot or on horse. An abbey is a monastery in England. Shackleton refers to the old English word ‘settlement’. And there was also Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton, an Irish explorer who led three British expeditions to the Antarctic.
You get the idea. I won’t list the others. This area of Saskatchewan initially was listed as a German settlement block in the early 20th century. But nearly all the town and village names are English. Except Cabri. A clue why all these names are English is found in Leader’s history. It was originally named ‘Prussia‘, after the many German and Russian immigrants who settled there. Prussia didn’t go over so well during the First World War; it was changed to Leader.
Meaning of the Word ‘Cabri’
Cabri is not an English word. When I lived in Cabri, I thought that it meant antelope in Cree after the many pronghorns in the area. The Cree spelled antelope: apistacihkos. And in Blackfoot: saokiawakaasi na. And keep in mind, neither language uses the letter ‘r’ in their words. And, these animals are not really antelope.
Cabri is the French word for kid (goat) or goat. In French pronghorn is Antilope d’Amérique. Why then were they called goats and why in French? It seems that both the French and the English initially called them goats: “Saw several wild Goats.” (Anthony Henday, 1754 while traveling through central-southern Alberta). Or, “.. in my walk I killed a Buck Goat of this Countrey, about the height of the Grown Deer, its body Shorter the horns which is not very hard and forks 2⁄3 up one prong…” (Lewis and Clark expedition on the prairies in the US. Cutright, P.R. (2003). Lewis and Clark: Pioneering Naturalists. Nebraska, USA: University of Nebraska Press. pp. 81–2).
Origins of Cabri
So, it seems highly likely that Cabri means goat in French. If so, where did the name originate? Certainly not from the initial influx of French settlers into the area. There are pockets of French-speaking settlements in the province but they are rare in southwestern Saskatchewan. And even more rare in the Cabri area.
The Butte. When I lived in Cabri we used to drive up on a large hill just east of town. And there we did things we didn’t want the local police to know about. From the top of the Butte you could see for miles in every direction, and no one could sneak up on you. When you said Butte, everyone knew where to meet. There was another hill west of town that we called ‘Whitehouse Hill’. So, why not call the Butte a hill too? Butte, in French means a small hill. Perhaps then butte and Cabri both have French origins.
If these words are of French origin, and there were few early French settlers in the area, then why the French name? For the answer we have to go back to fur trade history during the 1870-80s. The Hivernant (wintering over) Metis traveled throughout the prairies hunting buffalo. Many were of French Canadian descent and established settlements on the prairies (see map below).
The Hivernant Metis of the Canadian prairies, once considered by many as the best buffalo hunters in the world, wintered over in southwestern Saskatchewan.
Riviere La Biche located at the forks of the Red Deer and South Saskatchewan Rivers, was a Metis Hivernant settlement, started sometime in the 1870s. Three other Metis settlements were established in the Cypress Hills (Head-of-the Mountain, Four Mile Coulee, and East End). They too likely had French-speaking families.
The author examining an old Metis cabin fireplace, when visiting Riviere La Biche.
As the Metis wandered over the prairies they used key reference points to help them navigate. The prairies were like an ocean – endless and easy to get lost in. The landscape, and features on it, was their road map.
As I mentioned in my last blog (following the Siksika Kioocus‘s travels), Indigenous people often used rivers, creeks and large hills to navigate these landscapes. When you look at the stretch of land from Riviere La Biche to the Cabri area, there are not many unique, visible features to help you travel between the South Saskatchewan River to the north and the Great Sand Hills to the south. Getting lost in Saskatchewan’s sand hills without sufficient water could end in disaster (and I talk from experience).
Aerial photograph of Cabri, Saskatchewan showing the Butte, Miry Creek, which flows into the South Saskatchewan River, and Whitehouse Hill, southwest of town.The Butte(s) just east of Cabri, Saskatchewan.
It is therefore conceivable that the Butte and Miry Creek, just east of Cabri were key landmarks. And even today it is not uncommon to see antelope near town.
Conclusion
If Cabri was named by the French Metis in the 1870s (or earlier), it is unclear why it kept its name when the Canadian Pacific Railroad reached it in 1913. For some reason ‘Cabri’ stuck, even though the name of every town for miles around it received an English name; or the original name was anglicized. (There is no evidence of an earlier Metis settlement in the area; and, I have looked)
Unfortunately much of history is like a Cabri. We have some circumstantial evidence, or can make a solid argument to support an interpretation, but there rarely is a smoking gun.
Maybe that’s why one philosopher once wrote: “History. Read it and weep.” But, I don’t think so in this case. In my next post I will tell you the history behind the name of a town in Alberta – one that might make you weep.
Note: If any of you live in the Cabri area and read this post, and know of any facts that I missed, or something I got wrong, please send me a comment. I’d like to hear from you. If I were to do more research on this topic I would visit the local Metis families (if there are any) and see if there is anything in their oral histories about this area. Also, often the Oblates would name towns in French. I would check out if there were Catholic priests in Cabri early on.
