Posted on

Fort La Jonquierre: The French Fort That Never Was? Or, Just Never Found?

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.

Posted on

My Little Wooden House: Wood Building Techniques in Canada

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).

Modern Stud Frame Building Construction

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.png
Image 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.

Posted on

Stone Tobacco Smoking Pipes in the Canadian Fur Trade

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.

Posted on

What Was Fort Vermilion, Alberta Named After?

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 Grand Dance before leaving. Give them the usual allowance tobacco & paint or 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.

Posted on

A Little Winter Humor: Signs You Will, and Will Not, See in Canada

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.
Posted on

Meaning and Origins of Place Names: My Hometown, Cabri, Saskatchewan

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.

Posted on

Historic Maps: Alberta Places Through the Eyes of a Siksika Mapmaker, Kioocus (Little Bear)

Maps and Places

In my last post, I talked about the importance of finding more balance when naming places on the Canadian landscape. Many places once had or could have, equivalent Indigenous names. Those Indigenous names were forgotten, replaced with Euro-Canadian names, or original names were not kept because they were not relevant to the new Euro-Canadian colonizers. And as one Edmonton alderman put it (and who later apologized for his remarks), some Indigenous names were just too difficult to pronounce and should not be used for signage. I guess I’m out of the race then. There will never be a ‘Pyszczyk’ Avenue in Edmonton if we apply those guidelines.

Historic maps can be a great source of information about long-lost places and names. But even here there is a fundamental problem. Most Canadian maps were drawn by early Euro-Canadians who had their own agenda of what was important to record, and what was not. In the words of historian, Theodore Binnema:

“Map makers must interpret landscapes, select the most important features of those landscapes, and depict those features in a way that their audience will understand… No part of this enterprise is objective.  Each is heavily influenced by the society in which it occurs. Maps then, are artifacts that preserve potentially valuable information about human societies and the relationships they have had with their surroundings…” (an excerpt from an unpublished manuscript, written by Dr. Theodore Binnema, University of Northern British Columbia)

Indigenous maps would inform us of what was once important to the individual who drew them. There are few Canadian Indigenous maps. Indigenous maps of Alberta are even more rare. There are a few exceptions, however. This is the story of one such rare map, drawn by a Siksika man, in 1802. The map was copied by explorer, and trader, Peter Fidler of the Hudson’s Bay Company, while staying at the short-lived, ill-fated Chesterfield House (located at the confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers). When viewing Kioocus’s map, we get a glimpse of parts of central Alberta and Saskatchewan through this man’s eyes. 1

Dr. Binnema’s words are best supported by some examples. Look at the three maps below. They show the same area of Alberta and Saskatchewan, each drawn at different time periods, by different people.

A modern map of parts of Alberta and Saskatchewan. We are a people of highways. Geographical features on the landscape are no longer as important as they were when travelling by foot, on horseback, or by canoe. Only good to look at.
A map drawn by British map maker Aaron Arrowsmith, c.1802. Arrowsmith emphasized accuracy, major rivers (important for travel during the fur trade) and the location of certain Indigenous groups (also important for the fur trade). Geographical features still largely dictated what was placed on his maps.
According to fur trader and map maker, Peter Fidler (HBC) this was a map drawn for him by a Siksika man, named Kioocus (Little Bear) in c.1802. It was transferred to his journals. 2 It depicts key rivers and places that Kioocus and his band found important. Many geographical features were omitted because they likely were not important. Simplicity, and mapping only a few important elements, was the key to navigating through this large area of western Canada and the United States.

If you compare these maps to one another they support Dr. Binnema’s point – the incorporation of places and their names lies not only in changing transportation technologies and settlement, but also in the eye of the beholder, or map maker.

The Kioocus Map

Dr. Binnema and I have stared at the Kioocus map for quite some time now. Whenever I drive through certain parts of the two prairie provinces, I look for the places Kioocus shows on his map. Some are easy to find, some very hard, and others still elude me.

The Kioocus map covers parts of Alberta, Saskatchewan and Montana, USA. The top of the map is oriented roughly north. When you first glance at it, you will probably have a hard time figuring out where you are. There is no scale and there are no roads. Here are a few key reference points that might help. Buffalo Lake (# 7), Alberta occurs at the top left side of the map. Manitou Lake (God’s Lake), Saskatchewan (#31) is located on the top right corner of the map. If you follow the South Saskatchewan River west, you will come to the confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers, where the Northwest Company and Hudson’s Bay Company built Chesterfield House. The typed names on the map are recent additions. The small open dots mark camping places as Kioocus’s band travelled across the landscape. The names of places are in Blackfoot, translated by Fidler.

It is impossible to do justice to the entire map in this post. So I will focus on the eastern part of Alberta and the western part of Saskatchewan and particularly Kioocus’s journey from Chesterfield House north across the plains to the Neutral Hills, located just north of present-day Consort, Alberta. I’ve driven that stretch of Highway 41 from Oyen to Consort many times. There is a lot of nothing out there – endless stretches of prairie with very few reference points to guide you. According to my late cousin, Ralph Berg, this is an area where even Jackrabbits packed lunch pails.

Some Familiar and Long-Lost Places

Chesterfield House: Kioocus’s band came from northern Montana, by foot and on horseback, skirted the western edge of the Cypress Hills and temporarily visited and traded at Chesterfield House before continuing north. Along that trek, Kioocus pointed out a number of places to Fidler. Some of those locations are easy to identify because they have retained similar names. Others are difficult to locate and verify with any other evidence. In the list of places below, refer to the Kioocus map and the numbers Fidler puts near those places.

The confluence of the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer Rivers, the location of Peter Fidler’s Chesterfield House. The fort sites have never been found. (But, that’s another story). Later in the 1870s, the area became an important wintering site for the Hivernant Metis.

#29. Ocks as sax e kim me — berries: There is a set of hills, south of Sounding Creek and southeast of the Misty Hills to the east of the travel route that fits this location.  Kioocus depicts hills on his map by wavy lines which you can barely see on #29. (Numbers 2 and 4 are better examples). These hills occur just northeast of Salt Lake, putting them at N51o 38’49.58” and W110o13’54.58”. They have no name, only that you can find berries there.

#28. A qun is que — plenty of berries: This location could be any place on Sounding Creek, Alberta.  But there must have also been hills or steep banks there, according to Kioocus’s map. However, if we draw a straight line between Chesterfield House and the ‘Nose of the Buffalo'(#30) and assume that Kioocus’s band travelled in a relatively straight line, then the spot on Sounding Creek becomes relatively more well-defined. There are archaeological sites, and possibly a bison pound, roughly where that line crosses the creek. This was definitely a well-travelled route and camping location by First Nations people.

#27. Chis seeks  —  little poplar (Below):  This place refers to the Misty Hills, Alberta. These high hills line up along Kioocus’s route between the ‘Buffalo Nose’ (#30) and Chesterfield House. A creek and spring run through them where there are trees, plenty of berry shrubs and game animals. The area contains major archaeological sites as well as stone chert and quartzite outcroppings which were essential for stone tool making. The hills are very prominent and would have been an easy landmark to spot from far away for people travelling on foot or horseback. I have visited these hills and have taken extensive pictures. The view from the top is spectacular. The view from a helicopter is even more so.

Looking east towards the Misty Hills. In the foreground are the open prairies where Kioocus’s band likely travelled, then turned into the creek valley running into the Misty Hills. They would have found fresh water, berries and wood, and a variety of game animals as well.

#26. Eech e suk kitche stoup —  a little poplar (Below):  Mud Buttes, Alberta are located south of Consort, Alberta west of Highway 41 (you can see them when driving along Highway 41). The buttes are a very prominent landmark in the area and, like the Misty Hills, somewhat of an oasis in the prairie. They would have contained wood and water, and most likely outsourced chert pebbles, which were a major type of stone used for making stone tools by prehistoric Indigenous peoples. 

Mud Buttes, Alberta. Visible west of Highway 41. Courtesy of Billy Robson

#30. ‘Buffalo nose’:  This location refers to a singular, very prominent hill, just north of Veteran, Alberta, called Nose Hill by the Cree and Blackfoot. The hill is located near the westernmost edge of the Neutral Hills.  It seems to signify the northernmost boundary of Blackfoot territory during that time period.  Not only was the Nose a very prominent landmark, but it was also a major source of pebble chert for stone tool making. There are dozens of archaeological sites on the top of this hill representing many camping episodes by First Nations Peoples.

Nose Hill or the ‘Nose’ of the buffalo. Located just north of Veteran, Alberta, the hills are very prominent from a distance and contain a strong human historic presence (archaeological sites).

#7. E new o kee, Buffalo Lake: This is present-day Buffalo Lake, located just north of Stettler, Alberta, and north of the furthest northern point on the Red Deer River, in today’s Alberta parklands. This is one of the few places on the map that is in the parklands, past the ‘woods edge’ shown on the Kioocus map. According to explorer John Palliser, the lake received its name from, “…its outline of a buffalo hide stretched out…”.  However, Kioocus would not have known its shape from the ground. The more likely reason for its name is that the lake and surrounding area were very important for the buffalo-pounding/wintering campsites that occur all along the parkland/prairie transition zone. On the east side of Buffalo Lake, there is an enormous prehistoric site that has been occupied almost continually for 8,000 years (known as Boss Hill). There is also a large bison pound between Buffalo Lake and the Red Deer River. 

#8. E new oo suy yis, Buffalo tail Creek: Tail Creek, running out of the south end of Buffalo Lake into the Red Deer River, forms the tail of the buffalo.  When we consider numbers 7, 8, and 30 together, we have the buffalo nose (3), body (7) and tail (8) stretching across the prairie-parkland transition – the important wintering grounds of the plains bison. Tail Creek also became an important wintering site for the Hivernant Metis later in the 1870s.

#31. N_ too o kee or Gods Lake:  Gods Lake refers to Manitou Lake, near Marsden, Saskatchewan (see the enlargement on the Kioocus map). It is the largest saltwater lake in the Prairie Provinces. There are many known archaeological sites near the lake. There is a high hill just south of the lake, listed as #34 on the Kioocus map (which might already be destroyed by mining activities). Both the Blackfoot and the Cree claimed the waters of the lake had healing powers. There are 27 different types of salts dissolved in the water.

Mantou Lake, Saskatchewan, Canada, as it looks today from a campsite on the west side of the lake. 3

 #32. Now tok que a lake (Below):  Sounding Lake, Alberta is located south of the Neutral Hills, south of Provost, Alberta. The lake is very prominent in Blackfoot and Cree lore. According to one legend, the lake received its name when an eagle with a snake in its claws flew out of the lake making a loud sound like thunder. There is a high archaeological site density in the area and along the entire Sounding Creek drainage.

Sounding Lake, Alberta. In the background loom the Neutral Hills. Interestingly Kioocus does not map the Neutral Hills, only the ‘Nose’ which is the westerly most point of the hills. Why? Perhaps the ‘Nose’ was the best geographical reference point for the Siksika and others.
Distance and Some Unmarked Places Along the Way

Distance and Travel Time: Below is an aerial photograph of Kioocus’s route. It shows the distance between Chesterfield House to the Buffalo ‘Nose‘, and then to ‘Gods Lake‘ (Manitou Lake). If each circle represents a stop between Chesterfield House and the ‘Nose’, then the band would have travelled the approximately 100-mile distance (165km) in ten days, covering about 10 miles (16.5km) per day. Men, women, children, horses, dogs, and their belongings. No small feat.

An aerial photograph of Kioocus’s journey.

Consort Quarry Site (Below): If you draw a straight line between Chesterfield House and the Nose, Kioocus’s band would have come very close to the Consort Quarry site (shown in the aerial photograph) – possibly one of the most unique, perplexing places in Alberta. There are various theories on how the rather large holes (numbering over 100) were created (meteorite hits, ice wedges, or purposely dug by hand to extract the chert pebbles). Regardless of how they were made, black, flat chert pebbles were abundant and there is evidence that Indigenous peoples visited the area.

The author with Blackfoot elders at the Consort Quarry site. The landscape is pock-marked with large pits which exposed black chert pebbles that were ideal for making stone tools.

Bodo Archaeological Site (Below): if Kioocus’s band travelled down ‘Snake Creek’ (now called Eyehill Creek) they would come to a sand hill formation south of Bodo, Alberta. This was an important place for Indigenous people for thousands of years, as is evident by the vast amount of archaeological remains.

The Bodo archaeological site is located south of Eyehill Creek, south of Bodo, Alberta. The site contains considerable archaeological resources, including a bison pound. It is open for viewing to visitors in the summer.

A Few Concluding Remarks

These are just a few of the places Kioocus shows on his map. They represent what was important to the Siksika in the early 19th century. There are more places of equal interest on the Kioocus map that will have to await a future post. My objective here was not to give these places names or promote any of them for signage. That is not my role. It is up to the Indigenous community to determine what is significant and what to name some of those places. I simply point out that these places were once important, at least to one Siksika man and his followers. I have visited some of these places with Blackfoot elders, to look for themselves and have shown them the Kioocus map as a reference. Even for them, many of these places were no longer in their collective memories or recorded in their oral histories.

Perhaps someday we will see a Kioocus Way along the Highway 41 route. Of course, his name may be too hard to say for some politicians, thereby deeming it unworthy of historic recognition.

Footnotes:
  1. For an overview of other Indigenous maps in Canada check out the article by Judith Hudson Beatie[↩]
  2. HBCA, PAM, E. 3/2, fols. 104d-l05[↩]
  3. Photograph courtesy of Ted Binnema, University of Northern British Columbia[↩]
Posted on

The Anthony Henday Story – Is There Another Point of View?

“By its very nature, history is always a one-sided account.” (Dan Brown, The DeVinci Files)

https://www.citylab.com/life/2019/04/new-zealand-history-maori-culture-indigenous-language-te-reo/587599/

The Significance of Names and Places

I recently cruised the South Pacific, ending up in Australia, before returning to Canada. I saw some pretty interesting displays of Indigenous history and culture on many of these islands, and Australia. What caught my attention was an article in THE AUSTRALIAN, December 2019 , similar to the above New Zealand piece, suggesting that there be more recognition of Australian Aborigine places in Sidney, New South Wales. But in a more visible, concrete manner – Signs for key places and suburbs in the City. That led me to thinking back about Anthony Henday’s journey into Alberta.

https://www.theaustralian.com.au/nation/city-to-consider-dual-indigenous-names-for-sydney-streets-suburbs/news-story/ebb8e09a9cb8e5789398da4e106a825e

Back in Canada

What are we doing in Canada (which means settlement or place in St. Lawrence Iroquois language) to recognize Indigenous history and place? A very cursory review suggests we’ve done plenty, but there is a long ways to go.

Powell River, Sunshine Coast

Recently I looked at a tourism map of the Powell River Area, Sunshine Coast, British Columbia. An area I am very familiar with and where I live for parts of the year. Most islands, and other major places, have an equivalent Tla’amin (Coast Salish) name beneath the English name. A good start, but I saw few Indigenous road or place signs in the City. It was only recently, in 2017, that the popular Willingdon Beach area in the City, the spot of a former Tla’amin Village, was recognized and signed.

In 2017 steps were also taken to incorporate more Indigenous names in the Powell River region.
Edmonton

When I look around my City, the number of Indigenous names for roads, places, etc. are few and far between. I counted two names (Bearspaw, and Ekota up to the letter M) when going through the list of streets and avenues which numbered in the thousands. The City of Edmonton claims there are a 128 Indigenous place names. However, that list contains places such as St. Albert Drive and Whitemud Drive. For me, these names are hardly Indigenous. At least I don’t see the connection.

The original settlement was named Saint Albert by Bishop Alexandre-Antonin Taché, OMI after Lacombe’s name saint; Saint Albert of Louvain. (Wikipedia)

But, there is a movement afoot in the Edmonton area to rectify this problem. I refer you to an article written by Caroline Barlott, 2017, entitled, “Naming Amiskwaskahegan: Why Edmonton’s Place Names Matter.” The author makes a convincing argument why a more Indigenous visible presence is valuable. She interviewed Calvin Bruneau, Chief of the local Papaschase Band, whose views about Indigenous place names are enlightening.

Back in 2000, while attending the EPCOR Hearings in Edmonton (on whether to expand the existing power facility), I listened to Cree Elder, Wilson Gotchew speak about the Edmonton area. He recalls that it was called, ôtênaw (A place where everyone came). The Cree also called it, ‘Amiskwaskahegan‘ (Beaver Hills House). While that may have been the name specifically for Fort Edmonton, the region where the fort was located may have had a different name – such as ôtênaw. Regardless of what it was once called (and it probably had many over the centuries) the City and region have an Indigenous equivalent which is now being recognized.

From what I understand more Indigenous names are planned for some of the new southeast neighborhoods – such as Decoteau. But surely there must be other local names. One of the problems that arises, is where do we look to find them?

The new Decoteau neighborhood, southeast Edmonton is named for Alex Decoteau, a Cree Olympian in track and field, and the first aboriginal police officer in Canada.

Back to The Henday Story and Attickasish

In my earlier Anthony Henday blog, it was evident that there were other members in Henday’s party, such as his Cree guide Attickasish, whose name could just as easily have been put on that Edmonton road, or a neighborhood, sign (or signs of any highways that run from Saskatchewan into central Alberta, such as highway 13) for his courage and knowledge in leading Henday into Alberta. Without this man, and others like him, Anthony Henday, Samuel Hearne and Henry Kelsey would not have traversed parts of the Canadian west or north, and made it out alive.

What were Middlemen/Women in the Fur Trade?

Individuals, such as Attickasish, walked in many worlds – sometimes among different First Nations or in the white traders’ world. They often brokered deals in trade and exchange between the two parties. Similar Indigenous individuals likely existed for centuries before any white contact or the advent of the Euro-Canadian fur trade. Trade and exchange were always part of First Nations culture in almost every part of North America. A few other names come to mind:

Thanadelthur

Thanadelthur (c.1697-1717) was a Chipewyan (Denesuline) woman of incredible courage. She was many things to many people – a peace maker, guide, teacher, interpreter. During this period of history, tensions between the Cree and Chipewyan were high. Thanadelthur managed to negotiate peace between the Chipewyan and Cree peoples during the early fur trade. She was also instrumental in creating ties between the Chipewyan people and the Hudson’s Bay Company. The Hudson’s Bay Company was indebted to her for being an important conduit to negotiate peace, and eventually trade.

Matonabbee

Serving as Samuel Hearne’s guide in the 1770s, Matonabbee was a powerful leader of his people and revered by the Hudson’s Bay Company. Hearne described him as the “carriers of the rest.” He organized and led his people to trade with the Hudson’s Bay Company. Without his help and influence, among his people and other First Nations, Samuel Hearne would have been toast. Dead, lying somewhere out on the Arctic tundra. Matonabbee, by bringing his people to trade with the Hudson’s Bay Company, became very wealthy; only to redistribute that wealth among his people (sometimes he was given gifts of 1,400 made beaver by the HBC before trading even began). His generosity with his people and others, earned him more power and prestige. After all, then, and now, that’s what wealth got you.

“…persevered with courage…to visit the Athapuscow Indians for several years successively; and at length …brought about a lasting peace, but also…established a trade and reciprocal interest between the two nations”. (Samuel Hearne, describing Matonabbee)

Attickasish

We know little about Attickasish except through Henday’s eyes and his few journal entries, where he is occasionally marginalized – put in the background as the ‘help’. But when you read carefully, Attickasish was a force. He, like Thanadelthur and Matonabbee, had considerable influence among his people, as well as others such as the Blackfoot, and with white traders. Here are a few excerpts about Attickasish from Henday’s journal:

July 22, 1754: “…at night I went to my tent, and told Attickasish, or Little Deer, my Leader, that had the charge of me…”

October 14, 1754: “…Attickasish, Canawappaw, Cokamanakisish, and the other of our leaders walked in from about 4 Miles farther then we; came to 200 tents of Archithinue Natives…Attickasish my guide, informed him I was sent by the Great Leader who lives down at the great waters, to invite his young men down to see him…”

From these few lines it is clear that Attickasish knew the country to successfully guide Henday west. He was the intermediary between Henday and the Blackfoot. And, he must have known some Blackfoot to interpret Henday’s wishes to their leader. Without his guidance, Anthony Henday would not have made it to the Edmonton Area.

Why Then, No Attickasish Names?

Anthony Henday is commemorated on that freeway sign. Attickasish’s name is nowhere to be found, either in the City or the Province. Eventually maybe there will be an Attickasish Highway sign, instead of that boring Highway 13 sign which runs partly across two provinces where he traveled (becoming HWY 14 in Saskatchewan). Surely we can do better than that!

The Many Problems of Naming Communities and Places

Equal voice is the key in naming places. I’m not advocating that indigenous names replace current signage or completely replace signs like Highway 13 (they should compliment them or be added when new place signage is needed); only that they have a greater presence than currently is the case. The McGillivrays, Campbells, and Rutherfords are important historic figures and should also be recognized. But they hardly represent all of Alberta’s history. To ignore the fact that other people had names for places or contributed to our past, is to evade reality.

There is a danger in denying or erasing a people’s history and identity; whether it be deliberately or inadvertently. As one famous person (whose name eludes me at the moment) aptly put it, denying a people their history results in a loss of their culture, and eventually their identity. Small, concrete gestures matter. Gestures that are seen often, by many people.

A Work of Collaboration

People from many walks of life can help in this process: Indigenous peoples, historians, ethnohistorians, archaeologists, City planners and politicians, and you the public. As an archaeologist, I can point out key places in the City that have a long Indigenous history, based on the archaeological evidence. Places you would never think of, such as Mt. Pleasant Cemetery or Magrath Heights Park, or the old Strathcona Science Park. Then its up to members of the Indigenous community to come up with appropriate names for some of these long-forgotten places.

I leave you with these last words about the significance and importance of places and signage by our current Mayor, regarding Indigenous place names and signs :

“In the gesture of working to acknowledge that the language of this place historically was a different language, that’s how we recognize and decolonize what is otherwise a narrative of conquest — and language is part of conquest.” (Mayor Don Iveson, Edmonton, 2016)

A good start but there is still much more that can be done, in the City, and the province.

In my next blog I will explore other Indigenous names and places in Alberta gathered from one of the most extraordinary, rare pieces of historic evidence – a preserved over two-hundred year old Indigenous map, drawn by a Siksika man, for trader and explorer, Peter Fidler.

Posted on

How I Lost My Head to History – The Story of Anthony Henday

“There is a history in all men’s lives.”

William Shakespeare

Who was Anthony Henday?

Whenever I travel down Anthony Henday Drive in Edmonton, Alberta, I am reminded of this man’s journey to Alberta 266 years ago; and of my own somewhat peculiar involvement in it. You see, there are many ways to explore and understand human history. I thought I might gain more insight into that sometimes murky past by doing something a little different. But, before I tell you about what I did, first we need a little background about Anthony Henday.

Anthony Henday Drive, a ring road which goes entirely around most of Edmonton. Constructed over a 26 year period at a cost of $4.3 billion, the highway can have a traffic volume of 106,000 vehicles per day.
Anthony Henday’s journey to Alberta

In the first half of 1990s the then Provincial Museum of Alberta wanted to develop a new First Nations gallery of culture (which opened in 1997). My job was to help develop a First Nations-European contact display. Anthony Henday I thought. That’s a great contact story. A no brainer. ‘Who is that’, you ask? You know, the dude who, in 1754, paddled, rode, walked, from Hudson Bay to Alberta to ask the ‘Archithinue’ (probably Blackfoot) to come to York Factory to trade (a distance of over 1,500km). He was one of the first white men to contact them in our province. (The French may have been in Alberta earlier. But that is another story).

“…where we were conducted to the Leader’s tent; which was at one end, large enough to contain fifty persons; where he received us seated on a clear (white) Buffalo skin, attended by 20 elderly men….Attickasish my Guide, informed him I was sent by the Great Leader who lives down at the great waters, to invite his young men down to see him and to bring with them Beaver skins, & Wolves skins; & they would get in return Powder, Shot, Guns, Cloth, Beads, &c. He made little answer: only said that it was far off, & they could not paddle.” (from Anthony Henday’s journal, October 14, 1754, somewhere near Innisfail, Alberta)

After the Blackfoot leader turned down his request, Henday wandered around Alberta for the rest of the winter with his Cree and Assiniboine companions, not really knowing where he was and almost totally dependent on them: November 16, 1754. “Women making cloathing for cold weather…” Those women made his clothing as well, or he likely would have froze to death. The group eventually ended up near or at Edmonton in the spring of 1755.

Over the years there has been considerable controversy surrounding Henday’s journal (of which there are four different versions, none being his original) and his journey west. Was the whole thing a fabrication? Did he travel this far west? And, how do we know Henday ended up in or near Edmonton? His journal entries are quite specific on both direction and distance; and, occasionally land-forms. Before coming to Canada he was a seaman (some think a smuggler) in England. Sailing required a rudimentary knowledge of navigation including the use of a compass. Note the direction and distance of some of Henday’s journal entries: Sunday, October 12, 1754: “Travelled 8 Miles. S.W.b.W.”; Wednesday, October 30, 1754: “Travelled 4 Miles W.b.N.”; Thursday, November 7, 1754. “Travelled 4 Miles N.W.”

These are compass bearings. it is highly likely Henday was using a compass rose such as the one shown below:

This compass rose has only 16 points and is divided into sixteen segments (22.5 degrees each). Some compass roses are divided into as many as 32 points of direction. On occasion Henday uses a 32 point bearing (e.g., “Travelled 4 Miles W.b.N‘).

There are also a lot of problems when taking Henday’s directions and distances and plotting them on a modern map to see where he traveled. Alwynne Beaudoin, Royal Alberta Museum, and I did just that realizing, and taking into account, that magnetic north in 1754 would not have been the same as it is today (see our article for more detail, listed in the references at the end of this blog). Also, how accurate was Henday in estimating distances in a canoe, on horseback or on foot? Here’s roughly the route that many of us think Henday took when he got near Edmonton. He likely came up Saunders Lake, and the Gwynne Channel (located south of Edmonton which connects to Blackmud Creek.) His journal entries indicate that after journeying up Saunders Lake, he trekked approximately 20km on the ice of a river until he reached the North Saskatchewan River. (A cursory look on a map of the Edmonton region shows there are not many creeks or rivers big enough to choose from). He most likely continued north up the Gwynne Channel, and then followed Blackmud Creek (which connects to Whitemud Creek) until he reached the North Saskatchewan River, putting him in today’s Edmonton – a distance of approximately 20km.

A map of the Edmonton area showing Saunders Lake, Gwynne Channel to the south, connecting to Blackmud and Whitemud Creeks to the North Saskatchewan River.
The Making of the Anthony Henday Diorama

We developed a diorama with Henday sitting in a large tipi feasting with the Blackfoot leader. One side of the tipi was open displaying a large mural depicting the rolling landscape in the Innisfail area and the camp’s curious onlookers peering in, having probably never seen a white man before:

Anthony Henday sitting to the ‘Archithinue’ Leader’s right. In the foreground are the trade gifts Henday brought with him and the bowl of buffalo tongues which the group are feasting on. His Cree ‘companion’ and Attickasish (decked out as a trading captain) are on Henday’s right. An elder sits on the left side of the Archithinue leader
Casting My Head and Hands

We needed mannequins in the Henday diorama, including Henday. I was asked if I would like to be Henday. To do that, I would have to have my head and hands cast. Without much hesitation or forethought, I agreed. What better way to get into character, and perhaps even divine what this guy was like 250 years ago. Really get inside Henday’s head.

In hindsight what was I thinking? I didn’t realize that in order to be Henday I had to have my head and hands encased in cement – well, a form of plaster of Paris. My mustache was shaved off, my eyebrows greased up and my hair covered in plastic. (Those of you who are claustrophobic should maybe stop reading this blog now.) First, they greased up my hands, then poured plaster over them, and told me not to move them. Of course, as soon as they said that I immediately wanted to move my hands. It took twenty minutes for the plaster to set and I managed hold up, kind of. But the worst was yet to come.

My head was next. What I didn’t know was that my entire head would be covered in plaster. My only connection to life consisted of two small nose holes to let me breath. At that point lots of things went through my mind; mostly of what potentially could go wrong. So, they poured plaster over my entire head with just those two little holes connecting me to life. ‘Just try to relax Heinz. This won’t take long.’ I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t see. My head was getting rather warm as the plaster set. The only thing I remember thinking, was: ‘Don’t panic, don’t start hyperventilating or you will suck plaster up your nose.’

Me (Anthony Henday). There is no painting, sketch, or even a description of what Anthony Henday looked like. Born in 1725, he would have been about 29 years old when first entering Alberta. Given the time period and his rough mode of travel, he likely would have had a beard and long hair.

Despite my worst fears, the results turned out pretty good, as you can see from these images. I was dressed in the style of the time period. I received hair and a beard. Thousands of people have looked at me (Henday) over the years, not knowing who I really was. I’m still sitting there on a billboard beside the Queen Elizabeth II Highway, near Innisfail, Alberta, somewhere near where Henday probably met the Archithinue in 1754.

As to being any wiser about Henday’s life, having my head encased in plaster? I would not recommend this method to anyone.

The Historic Sites of Alberta Anthony Henday sign beside the Queen Elizabeth Highway, near Innisfail, Alberta. (Courtesy of Alberta Culture, Multiculturalism and Status of Women.)

The Henday diorama and the old Provincial Museum of Alberta are gone. So is my head. I am in the process of asking about it; maybe even getting it back. I just talked to the Director of the new Royal Alberta Museum, Mr. Chris Robinson, about my head. (He didn’t even know that I was in that diorama posing as Henday; it was before his time as director). He’s looking for it. Wish me luck.

Henday in 1997 (left). The wannabe Henday today, much greyer and older (other left).

Note: Hey, Edmontonians, or other Albertans, Canadians, take a survey of how many people know about Anthony Henday. At your next dinner party, on the streets of Edmonton, your local hockey rink. Wherever. Ask people who Anthony Henday is and what he means to this City. I’d love to hear the results. I would guess, approximately only one-third of the people you ask will know, yet many of us see that sign almost every day. I’m doing my own survey and will post all results in a later blog. Maybe by then I will have found my head.

References

Beaudoin, Alwynne Beaudoin and Heinz W. Pyszczyk. 1998. Where Was Anthony Henday and What Did He See? Alberta Archaeological Review 28:25-31. [Alwynne Beaudoin and I traveled around the Innisfail area trying to use Henday’s directions to find land-forms and reconstruct his journey. As we crested a rather high hill that morning, I looked west and saw the Rocky Mountains, as Henday might have. I (and others) always wondered why he never mentioned them in his journal, until I read a quote from David Thompson about those same mountains: “At length the Rocky Mountains came in sight like shining white clouds in the horizon, but we doubted what our guide said; but as we proceeded, they rose in height their immense masses of snow appeared above the clouds…” (David Thompson’s journals. In Travels in Western North America, 1784-1812, edited by Victor G. Hopwood, pp.94.) And, then once the humidity had increased in the afternoon, we could no longer see them.

Burpee, Lawrence J. [editor] 1973. The Journal of Anthony Henday, 1754-55. York Factory to the Blackfoot Country. Canadian House, Toronto. [There is a lot of controversy around Henday’s journal, of which there are four different versions, and where exactly he traveled. Some scholars even claim they are a fabrication. However, based on his descriptions of land-forms, rivers, and directions, I believe he did make it to Alberta. Just not always where Burpee puts him. Despite all these problems, the Henday journal is a great little read]

MacGregor, J.G.  1954. Behold the Shining Mountains. Applied Arts Products Ltd., Edmonton, Alberta. [Historian, James MacGregor also plotted Henday’s route from Hudson Bay to Alberta, based on his journal entries. It differs considerably from Burpee’s map. Burpee has Henday turning south, after meeting the Archithinue, and returning to York Factory, via the Red Deer River while MacGregor has him turning north and ending up along the North Saskatchewan River. Almost al Henday’s entries after that meeting are to the west and north.]

Scott, Stephen P. 1997. A Puzzle Revisited: Historiography and Documentary Problems in the Journals of Anthony Henday (MA). University of Winnipeg/University of Manitoba. [If you really want to get into the details of Henday’s life and journal, then Mr. Scott’s MA is a good read.]

Posted on

Edmonton Beneath Our Feet

My Neighborhood

I live in the tranquil, lovely neighborhood of Pleasantview, located in the heart of Edmonton. My house sits at the base of Mount Pleasant Cemetery, which is perched on a very high hill (known as a kame – a short ridge, hill, or mound deposited by glacial melt-water sediments). Based on past research, similar large hills in Edmonton contain archaeological sites representing a First Nations history that goes back thousands of years (for more details see: Heinz W. Pyszczyk, Elizabeth Noble, Ross W. Wein. 2006. ‘Aboriginal Land Use in the Greater Edmonton Area’. In: Coyotes Still Sing in My Valley : Conserving Biodiversity in a Northern City. Spotted Cow Press). But one would never know it, by just looking around the neighborhood.

The top of Mount Pleasant Cemetery, one of Edmonton’s highest points of land. This south facing hilltop would have been an ideal camping and lookout spot.
Excavations, by Mr. Charles Ramsey, Stantec, at the base of Rabbit Hill (a kame), southwest Edmonton, before residential development.
Projectile points found at the Rabbit Hill excavations, some dating back to approximately five thousand years ago.
My Back Yard

It was reasonable to ask then, what might be in my back yard, since it is located close to the base of a kame?

As I was building my new walkway in the back yard, here is what I found. It wasn’t an earth-shattering discovery – actually, almost expected given what we know about these hills. But, it did show that First Nations People camped here long before the first Europeans ever stepped on this ground.

Some artifacts from my back yard. From left to right: Two quartzite stone flakes from making stone tools; a quartzite uniface, perhaps being shaped into a knife; and, a piece of butchered animal bone.

Much of the ground in my neighborhood, including my back yard, has been severely disturbed over the years, so these artifacts are no longer in their original context. It is virtually impossible to date the stone artifacts. But there are still some places in my community, and elsewhere in Edmonton, where the ground is not disturbed, where intact archaeological deposits might still be present.

So people of Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, what lies beneath your feet that you don’t know about? Probably more than you think!

References

Very little published material exists about the Prehistory (that period of human history before the written record) of the Greater Edmonton Area. Here are a few key references (but by no means all) about First Nations archaeology before Europeans entered Alberta:

Pyszczyk, Heinz W.  1996. Archaeology Guide & Tour of Greater Edmonton Area. Provincial Museum of Alberta. (Copies of this booklet should be in the Edmonton Public Library, or University of Alberta Library)

Pyszczyk, Heinz W., Elizabeth Noble, Ross W. Wein.  2006. Aboriginal Land Use in the Greater Edmonton Area. In Coyotes Still Sing in My Valley: Conserving Biodiversity in a Northern City, edited by Ross W. Wein. Spotted Cow Press.

B. Newton and J. Pollock, J. W. Ives, Heinz W. Pyszczyk.  1985. Strathcona Site (FjPi-29) Excavations. Archaeological Survey of Alberta. Manuscript Series 2, 3, & 4. Alberta Culture. (This volume is out of print but should be in the University of Alberta library, and perhaps in the Edmonton Public Library. This is a technical report describing the archaeological remains recovered from the Strathcona site in east Edmonton.)

Losey, T. C.  1971. The Stony Plain Quarry Site. Plains Anthropologist, 16-52: 138-154. (Description of a Prehistoric site along the Saskatchewan River, west of Stony Plain, Alberta. Quite technical.)