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Life and Death: Human Mortality in the 18th and 19th Century Canadian Fur Trade

The grave of John Rowand (1787 – 1854), renowned fur trader and Chief Factor of the Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Edmonton.

In 1854, John Rowand, Chief Factor, Fort Edmonton, while trying to break up a fight among the men at Fort Pitt, suddenly clutched his chest and fell over, dead. Probably from a heart attack. But, we’ll never know for certain.

John Rowand, Chief Factor of the HBC Fort Edmonton, was sixty-seven when he died. Only a few years younger than the average life of a fur trader.

The Things That Eventually Kill Us

Researchers currently list nine major factors that affect human longevity: Gender, genetics, prenatal and childhood conditions, education, socio-economic status, marital status, ethnicity, lifestyle (diet, exercise, tobacco use, excessive alcohol consumption, etc.), and medical technology.

In my last post, I examined the dietary habits of 18th and 19th century fur trade employees in western Canada. Many Company men and women ate a heavy meat protein and fat diet. I ended my post asking: How did a diet rich in animal protein and fat affect the health and well-being of Company employees? Without detailed medical records, there really is only one way to investigate this question. I examined how long these people lived compared to the rest of Canadians. Or, among their peers who might have eaten a different diet.

Many of the above factors also dictated how long people lived in the fur trade. But it is not possible to research all of them. Among the easiest to investigate are: 1) socio-economic status (Company officers versus laborers); 2) ethnicity (English/Scottish, French Canadians, Metis/Native); and, 3) other lifestyle factors (diet, alcohol and tobacco consumption, degree of physical labor, etc.). I examine a few of these factors here with the available fur trade records.

Fur trade company employees differed in many ways, including their status (officers versus laborers), ethnicity (Indigenous, French Canadian, Orkney, etc.), degree and type of physical labor, and other lifestyle differences (including diet). The above painting and sketch depicts many of these differences. Officers were mostly of English/Scottish descent, were the best educated, ate the best and most foods, and did the least physical labor. Fort laborers were poorly educated, of mixed ethnic descent (French Canadian, Indigenous, Orkney, etc.) and did the hardest physical labor. (Upper left image, painting by Rex Woods for the Hudson’s Bay Company; lower right image, National Archives of Canada, C-2771)

The Hudson’s Bay Company Archives (HBCA): Employee Records

We face many problems when researching immediate cause of death, or its more remote, major underlying causes, in 18th and 19th century Canada. First, there is the unreliability and absence of records and diagnosis of patients. So, for example, when I ask how a meat fat-protein rich diet in the fur trade may have affected human health, there are few ways to answer this question. It’s hard enough to answer in present-day society, let alone two-hundred years ago.

However, if lifestyle, inequality, ethnicity, or even place of work, were detrimental to the health of fur trade employees they may show up in their mortality rates, or age of death. But, where do we find these types of data?

Fortunately, the Hudson’s Bay Company Archives in Winnipeg, Manitoba contain a list of former employees. It often includes their ethnic background, birth and death dates, dates and years of service, position, post and fur trade district they worked in.

Example of Hudson’s Bay Company Archives lists of former employees, often (but not always) including their dates of birth and death.
Example of my HBCA data base. I selected employees with last names starting with A, B, and C. In some cases, when I needed a larger sample of certain type of data, I continued investigating the records further, beyond the letter C.

From the HBCA data base, I compiled a list of ninety-one men, with known birth and death dates, who worked in various regions and time periods. Sometimes the list also described their positions (e.g., officer, clerk, laborer), ethnic origins (English, Scottish, French Canadian, Metis, and Native, etc.) and years of service.

Unfortunately these data have their limitations. Many records don’t contain birth or death dates. Occasionally place of birth or ethnic background is not recorded. I included the Columbia District employees, although they likely had a different lifestyle than employees living further inland. I also included employees working at York Factory/Eastmain and Red River. Both areas and their forts would have been regularly supplied by ships from England or had well established agriculture by the early 19th century (Red River).

I only have data for men. While many women lived and worked at the Company posts, they were not officially recognized as Company employees. However, in almost every human population where statistics are available, women on average live longer than men. Finally, most of the HBCA records list no cause of death. So, I really can’t directly connect death to diet (heart disease leading to a heart attack) or tobacco consumption (lung cancer).

And until recently I didn’t have any basis for comparison of these mean ages of death to people in eastern Canada, or populations from other parts of the world. But that changed when I found a great data base on human mortality and life expectancy. It’s called Our World In Data. Check it out. I will use it here to compare to our fur trade mortality rates to Canada and the rest of the world.

What was the Average Age of Death of Fur Trade Employees?

The average age of death of the employees I sampled is an incredible seventy years (ranging between 1705 – 1963). The youngest man died at age thirty-five; the oldest at age ninety-nine. Let’s put that into a global perspective. Life expectancy at birth at the beginning of the 19th century in the Americas, was approximately thirty-five years. In the rest of the world it was less than thirty years. The chart below shows life expectancy of various countries and the world through time.

This chart comes from courtesy of Our World in Data. First, some definitions. Life expectancy means the length of time that a human being is expected to live (based on statistics). For those of you interested in knowing how life expectancy is calculated, go to this page. Mortality refers to the death of large numbers of people. Mean age of death refers to the average age of death of a population (or sub-group) at any given time or place.

However, this chart gives the life expectancy of people at birth. So, these data are really not directly comparable to our fur trade data. Instead, we have to make a comparison of life expectancy at a certain age. All the statistics show that as you get older your life expectancy increases. For example, in 1850 life expectancy in Wales and England was around forty years at birth. If you reached the age of twenty, then your life expectancy was sixty. And at forty, you would be expected to live to sixty-seven years. Through time these figures all increase, as the chart below shows.

This chart comes from courtesy of Our World in Data.

Unfortunately these data aren’t available for Canada. At least that I’m aware of. But they probably follow the English and Welsh data relatively closely. In the fur trade most Company employees were approximately the age of twenty or older when they entered the Company’s service. In Wales or England, during the 1840s, a person reaching twenty years of age could expect to live to age sixty. Our fur trade employees are living an average of seventy years.

Let’s look at the data another way. The chart below shows the percent of people who reach successive ages through time. So, for example, in 1850 approximately forty percent of the Welsh or English population reached the age of sixty. And only ten percent reached the age of eighty.

This chart comes from courtesy of Our World in Data. Keep in mind that these estimates include men and women. They would be somewhat lower for men only.

The men in the Canadian fur trade far surpassed these figures. Below is a breakdown of the percent of men reaching certain percentages.

This chart comes from courtesy of Our World in Data. The yellow line represents my fur trade data.

In the Canadian fur trade sample there is one death (drowning) listed under forty years of age recorded. (Remember, this is a sample. If I examined every record, more men likely died under the age of forty; but the sample data suggests, very few.) Over seventy percent of the men reached an age of sixty years. Twenty-four percent reach eighty, while nine percent reach the age of ninety or over. Quite remarkable, considering the living and working conditions and the somewhat high protein and fat diets of many of these people.

Is There a Difference in Life Expectancy Between the Officers and Laborers?

In my last post, I noted that the officers: 1) received more meat and fat rations; 2) were of different ethnic backgrounds; and, 3) did less physical work, than the laborers. Therefore, any/all of these factors (diet, type and degree of physical labor, and ethnicity) might account for possible differences in mean age of death.

Although this chart shows an approximately one year difference of mean age of death of the two groups, the difference is not statistically significant.

There is virtually no difference (statistically speaking) in the age of death of these two groups. None of the factors listed above was influential in shortening, or prolonging, the life of each group.

In this chart I calculated how many officers and laborers reach the age of sixty-five and over.

However, as the above chart shows, more officers are living at ages sixty-five and over than the laborer group. However, whatever is causing this difference, high meat protein and fat diet isn’t a significant factor in age of death. If it was, more laborers than officers would have lived over sixty-five years of age (because the officers consumed more meat protein and fat than laborers).

How Well did Company Employees Fare in Respective Fur Trade Districts?

The major fur trade districts of the Hudson’s Bay Company, c.1830. Borders and names occasionally changed over the years. Image from Richard Somerset Mackie. “Trading Beyond the Mountains: The British Fur Trade on the Pacific, 1793-1843. ”  (Vancouver: UBC Press, 1997)

Company employees were often unwilling to work at the northern posts because of the extreme hardships they faced. Such as the Athabasca or Peace River Districts which takes up most of northern Alberta. Or the even further northern Mackenzie District in the Northwest Territories.

In the words of Chief Factor John Lee Lewes, at Fort Simpson, in 1840: “…for from it [lack of food] arises more than 9/10 of the anxiety we all have to suffer from it [lack of food] in this hardest of hard Districts. Provisions, provisions….” (Brackets mine) Times were often tough in the far north.

How tough? Tough enough to affect human health, and perhaps average age of death? I grouped the data into major fur trade districts and checked. The results are shown below.

The fur trade districts in western Canada are ranked from easiest (Saskatchewan, Red River, and York Factory/Eastmain ) to hardest (Athabasca/Peace River, Mackenzie District). Not only did the more southerly Saskatchewan District and Red River posts have access to more wild game, they also acquired domestic stock and started agriculture relatively earlier. In the Athabasca/Peace River and Mackenzie Districts, this was not always possible. Also, at York Factory and Eastmain there was a more constant supply of foods coming from Britain, reducing hardship considerably. The Columbia District results are a bit of an enigma. However, they certainly didn’t increase the mean age of death. Instead, they lowered it.

With the exception of the Columbia District (coastal), there is virtually no difference in the mean age of death among the men of the different fur trade districts. Despite the constant hardships and complaints of not having enough food and supplies, which may have been real enough, the men at the Mackenzie, Athabasca/Peace River District forts did not die at an earlier age than those further south. Periods of starvation can have detrimental health affects (fatigue, dizziness, constipation, drop in blood pressure, etc.). And if too severe or prolonged, even death.

I have not conducted any detailed research on how smoking and alcohol consumption might have affected age of death (although those data are certainly available in other fur trade documents). However, a preliminary check indicates that far more employees from the Saskatchewan District, smoked and drank alcohol, than in Districts further north. But there are no discernible differences in mean age of death in these districts.

Did the Average Age of Death Change Through Time?

In the chart below, I plotted the average age of death through time. As wild game populations declined, many fur trade posts began to produce more agricultural goods and import domestic stock to supplement their diet. Thus, dietary habits changed through time, but at different rates geographically.

In the last part of the 19th century, there was a more balanced food supply and likely better medical technology for the Company men. However, the results above show a similar age of death among Company employees through time.

Was There a Difference in the Mean Age of Death Among the Different Ethnic Groups in the Fur Trade?

Given their different types of work, access to food, and genetic makeup, did certain subgroups in the fur trade fare better than others? Did those French Canadians, for example, who did most of the back-breaking work in the fur trade, die at an earlier age than their Canadian counterparts? There are suggestions they did, but never backed by any hard data. The results are shown in the chart below.

Although there is a difference of over four years between the English/Scottish group and the Metis/First Nations group, the difference is not statistically significant. Even though they worked harder, and had significantly less access to food, both French Canadian and Metis or First Nations working for the Companies fared about the same as their English/Scottish counterparts.

But, where the real difference shows up, is how many men of each ethnic group lived past the age of sixty-five. The results are shown in the chart below.

There is a significant difference in the number of French Canadians who reach the age of sixty-five and over, compared to both Metis/Native and English/Scots categories. And, if you’ve ever read how hard some of these men worked, and played, this figure is not really that surprising. My research (Pyszczyk 1987, 1989, 2015) also suggests that on average French Canadians spent more money on tobacco and alcohol than their English and Scottish counterparts (laborers).

Were Metis and First Nations People Better or Worse off Than Today?

My last question concerns the well-being of our Indigenous populations in Canada. Did they fare better during the 18th and 19th centuries, than today? Historic population data for First Nations and Inuit peoples are very hard to find. I managed to only compare Metis populations over time.

The results are a bit of a shocker. The percent of Metis who reach an age over sixty-five years are significantly lower today than during the 18th and 19th centuries. They are also lower in the fur trade than non-aboriginal employees. Here are the latest present-day statistics for the three Indigenous groups.

While I don’t have the statistics for historic First Nations and Inuit, the present-day statistics certainly tell the tale of all three groups falling behind the non-aboriginal Canadian population as they age.

All three Indigenous groups have a lower percentage of people surviving sixty-five years and older than the Canadian non-aboriginal population. Studies indicate that death from disease, drugs and alcohol, suicides, etc. are significantly higher in today’s Indigenous populations than earlier, and in the contemporary Canadian non-Aboriginal population.

What Do These Results Tell Us About Fur Trade Society?

Firstly, that rather wicked high meat protein and fat diet didn’t reduce the average life span of these people significantly. Nor did the occasional bouts of near starvation and hunger, harder work and poorer living conditions significantly reduce their length of life. Some of these factors only become important as the population aged (e.g., percent living over sixty-five).

Secondly, why did this population of men, when compared to the rest of the world and other Canadians, fair significantly better? I have some ideas. But currently no real proof or definitive answers. The men chosen for the fur trade may have been selected for their superior fitness and general good health. They therefore don’t represent the norm in either White or Indigenous Canadian society, or other world populations at any given time.

Thirdly, this population of people was relatively isolated from the rest of Canadian society. Some of the men working on the canoe brigades traveled to Montreal or York Factory annually to resupply, thus having short contact with larger centers. But most of their time was spent at the remote inland fur trade forts. Was there less chance of catching some disease, getting sick, and dying? The men living at the most remote forts in Canada don’t seem to live any longer than those less isolated, such as at Red River settlement (with a much larger population).

Or, is it my data and bias in the records? Many of the laborer class had no documented history, and therefore no birth or death dates. This is a common problem for a people without a written record. Is this sample similar to the famous 1936 Literary Digest US telephone and car registration presidential polling fiasco? When not everyone had a phone or car, and thus the polls were very skewed when using only these data. And they got the winner of the presidential election wrong. I simply can’t answer that question right now.

My last concern is with the health and welfare of our Indigenous populations. Their state of well-being seems to be heading the other direction compared to the rest of Canadian society. The cries of concern and need for more help from these people is well grounded in some of the historic population statistics. And in particular the life expectancy data.

David Thompson’s grave marker, Montreal, Quebec, Canada. One of Canada’s greatest explorers and cartographers underwent considerable hardships in the wilds of western Canada. Impoverished and destitute in old age, he lived to a ripe old age of eighty-seven.

Note: There’s always a fine line between providing too much detail (yawn) and ‘dummying down’ in these posts. Because of my background, I tend to err on the former side. I believe everyone should know what my results and interpretations are based on. And, I also know that many of my regular subscribers would prefer more than less information and facts.

Let me know what you think. Too much? Not enough?

References:

Pyszczyk, Heinz W. 1987. Economic and Social Factors in the Consumption of Material Goods in the Fur Trade of Western Canada. Ph.D Thesis. Department of Archaeology, Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, British Columbia.

Pyszczyk, Heinz W. 1988. Consumption and Ethnicity: An Example from the Fur Trade in Western Canada. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 8:213-49.

Pyszczyk, Heinz W. 2015. The Last Fort Standing. Fort Vermilion and the Peace River Fur Trade, 1798 – 1830. Occasional Papers of the Archaeological Society of Alberta. Number 14.

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A Look Back at Our Canadian Diet: A Time When Animal Fat was King

During most of human history, hominins (that’s us, and all prehistoric humans before us) selected animals, and parts of animals, containing the most fat. Or, the most calories packed into the least amount of meat. For purely survival reasons, before the advent of agriculture and domestication (which did not occur in many parts of the world) the name of the game was to consume the richest foods possible, whenever possible.

“We Eat Everything Except the Manure.”

(Explorer, Peter Fidler, 1801, describing eating wild game, while traveling with the Dene in northern Alberta and the North West Territories, Canada)

Our Present Canadian Diet

FOOD. As Canadians we often take it for granted. For most of us, there’s always something to eat. Just a matter of selecting from the hundreds of different foods and dishes available.

And when it comes to the Canadian diet and the role animal fat plays in it, warning bells go off. BE AWARE. We’re told to eat it in minimal amounts. Because it’s bad for you.

However, for most of human history, that was not always the case. For example, in traditional Inuit diets, approximately 50% of their calories came from fat, 30–35% from protein and 15–20% from carbohydrates. Animal fat also ruled in the Canadian fur trade.

The 18th and 19th Century Canadian Diet

During the eighteenth and most of the nineteenth centuries, in western Canada, a wide variety of wild game animals provided First Nations peoples and Euro-Canadians with most of their calories. In eastern Canada during this time, domestic animals and agriculture had largely replaced wild animals and plants in peoples’ diet.

In western Canada, animal fat was highly desirable and sought after. At the fur trade forts, wild game meat and fat was even doled out according to social class. Ironically, the hard working fort employees who needed it most, received the least amounts.

In 1832, at the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Fort Vermilion, Northern Alberta, for example, Company employees received following meat rations:

Category Fresh Meat Dried Meat Pounded Meat Grease
Officers Mess (2 people) 2,250 lbs 57 lbs 57 lbs 105 lbs
Officers Families (6 adults) 4,283 159 6 108
Engages (8 people) 7,752 576 576 18
Engages Families (3 adults) 2,612 148 148 4

Note: From the above table, calories derived from animal fat versus animal protein is estimated to be ~4:1

At Fort Vermilion, each officer consumed about 1,125 pounds of fresh meat a year, or approximately three pounds (1.4 kilograms) per day. Each worker consumed 969 pounds per year. This figure does not include the dried and pounded meat, or fat. That’s about three bison per year, folks. Hard to imagine eating that much meat now. Every day.

Other historic references suggest that Company employees ate even more meat than listed above. For us these numbers are truly staggering. But also very difficult to verify:

“The ordinary ration, under these circumstances [no flour or vegetables] at any of the Hudson Bay Company posts is either three large white fish, or three rabbits, or two pounds of pemmican, or three pounds of dried meat, or eight pounds of fresh buffalo meat per day per man.” (Alexander Sutherland, 1888)

Along the Saskatchewan River, where forts had access to the vast herds of Plains Bison, an enormous amount of meat was needed to feed the fort occupants for a year:

“Daily requirements for the fort – approx. 20 men, 11 women, 19 children, 36 train dogs. Of fresh meat – the tongues, bosses, ribs and fore and hind quarters of 3 animals.” (From the journals of Issac Cowie in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, 1867 -74) Total bison/year = 1095.

At the North West Company’s Fort George in Alberta, Clerk Duncan M’Gillivray noted: “…we have finished a Glaciere containing 500 thighs & shoulders for the consumption of April & beginning of May…” (From the journal of Duncan M’Gillivray, at Fort George 1793-94)

Also, First Nations traded huge amounts of meat to this fort:

Article (lbs) Traded from Indians & C Supplied the Factory Expended Remains
Buffalo Meat 26,230 “ 19,673 6,557
Buffalo Fat 2,900 2,500 400 “
Pemmican 7,200 7,200 “ “
And over two hundred years later, this is what the archaeological record at these Fortes des Prairies looks like. Both photographs are from the North West Company Fort George (c.1792-1800), central Alberta. In the top image we found a cellar filled with animal bone. In the bottom image, this line of bone lies along the fort palisade wall. These early Saskatchewan River forts were ‘meat factories’, processing tens of thousands of pounds of meat to make pemmican for the Company canoe brigades. Imagine what this place must have smelled like in the spring and summer months. There are many theories why these forts were abandoned relatively shortly after being built. According to most documents, animal populations were soon decimated near the fort requiring a move. But the ‘Stink Factor’ must have played a role for an early exit as well.

The More Fat, the Better

Fort occupants ate a variety of game animals. Lynx, bear, dog, wolf, porcupine, squirrel, skunk, owls, muskrat, varying hare, raccoons, beaver, elk, caribou, moose and bison. Also a variety of fish (especially whitefish) and waterfowl.

“…a rich, agreeable, and very wholesome fish (whitefish), that never palls the appetite; and is preferable, and other fish of this country…” (from the journals of Sir John Richardson, surgeon and explorer)

“…ducks of various kinds, which having shed their feathers, are easily killed in the numerous lakes and ponds. The larger ducks are generally fat at this season, the young of the year are lean and insipid.” (from the journals of Alexander Henry (the younger), Fort White Earth, Saskatchewan River, central Alberta)

Sometimes the consumption of some rather unorthodox critters got just a little out of hand. Explorer Samuel Hearne describes one such incident: “…the warbles out of the deer’s backs, and the domestic lice, were the only two things I ever saw my companions eat, of which I could not, or did not, partake. I trust I shall not be reckoned over-delicate in my appetite.”  (from Samuel Hearne’s diaries)

While it’s hard to imagine eating something like this warble off an animal, hunger often trumps all. As Peter Fidler’s rather blunt words suggest, when people are driven to extremes of hunger they will eat almost anything. And, at some of the northern fur trade posts, near starvation situations occasionally occurred.

“Friday gave the men a parchment skin to eat – a Canadian that came home from the hunting tent informed me that the hunters was all starving as they could kill no cattle [bison].” (HBC trader, Thomas Swain, Mansfield House, 1802, near Fort Vermilion, Alberta)

On the other end of the extreme, Company employees often had considerable choice and selection of wild game. Whenever possible they chose the fattiest animals, and selected the parts of the animal that contained the most fat.

Fatty, and Fat Animals
The large plains and woodland bison provided First Nations and first Euro-Canadians with considerable amounts of meat. A two year old bison weighs approximately 850 pounds, yielding about 300 pounds of usable meat.

Some game animals were fatter during certain times of the year. The flesh of some animals contained more fat than others any time of the year. According to fur trade records, bison tasted best when fat:

“We killed a great many buffalo, which were all in good condition, and feasted…..luxuriously upon the delicate tongues, rich humps, fat roasts, and savory steaks of this noble and excellent species of game….We had found the meat of the poor buffalo the worst diet imaginable, and in fact grew meager and gaunt in the midst of plenty and profusion. But in proportion as they became fat, we grew strong and hearty…” (from S. Phillips 1940:42)

The fat of some animals were considered inferior to others:

“The Red Deer is next in size to the Moose, but it is not equal to it in its delicious flavor, on account of the peculiar quality of the fat, which turns cold so very fast, that a person must eat it the instant that it is taken from the fire, and even then the mouth is sometimes lined with a grease of the consistence of tallow.” (from the journals of Edward Umfreville, trader, 1790)

The Canadian Beaver, economic driver of 18th and 19th century Canada. Valued for both its fur and its meat. Sometimes the fort workers valued its meat far more than its fur.

Not only was the Canadian beaver valued for its fur but also for its flesh, and in particular, its fat. In its prime, beaver meat is composed of over thirty percent fat. The tail, considered a delicacy among fur traders and First Nations, was almost all fat.

“In summer, the beavers are lean, and their fur poor, for which reason they are usually not caught at this time.  But in winter they get fat and have thicker fur. Their meat is very palatable. The tails, which are fat all through, are especially regarded as delicacies.”  (from the journals of F. A Wislizenus 1839).

“The flesh of the Beaver is much prized by the Indians and Canadian Voyageurs, especially when it is roasted in the skin, after the hair has been singed off.  In some districts it requires all the influence of the Fur Trader to restrain the hunters from sacrificing a considerable quantity of beaver fur every year to secure the enjoyment of this luxury…” (from the journals of James Richardson 1819)

At many of the northern Peace River fur trade sites, beaver bones were the most common. Such as this beaver pelvis and ulna found near the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) site. And and most of this bone shows knife marks from butchering, not skinning. This evidence, and its occurrence with other domestic household refuse, suggests consumption of the highly sought after meat.

(Now that I look closely at this photograph I see the Canadian nickel used for scale. And the beaver on it. Believe me, this was not intentional. But fitting, I guess. Couldn’t find a loonie.)

Not only were certain animals with high fat content selected for, but the parts of the animal, such as bone marrow, tongues, nose, some organs, and the fattest portions on the carcass (hump of the buffalo, rib meat, etc.) were also preferred.

Moose nose, or ‘muffle’. A great Canadian delicacy. Image courtesy of Four Pounds Flour. For a great read, go to this post and read all about preparation of this dish. And the historic quotes about its delicacy and flavor.

Other parts of the animal, now rarely eaten, often were very high in fat content:

“…and, oh shade of Eude, the marrow bones!” (author, unknown)

“Marrow was held in such high esteem that the term “marrow” seems to have come to be applied to other parts of the animals which were considered good to eat.  As well as the frequently mentioned “marrow bones”, there are references to “marrow ribs”, “marrow fat”, and “marrow guts”…but the marrow guts were eaten by the Blackfoot and by the French Canadian voyageurs, who considered them a treat.”  (from Isobella Hurburt 1977:16)

“…rich cow [bison] tongues cooked with buffalo marrow, which had been preserved in the autumn when the animals were fat…” (from the journals of John Palliser, 1853)

Bison tongue was considered a delicacy by First Nations and Canadian fur traders alike.
Animal bone marrow contains approximately eighty-five percent fat. It was highly sought after in the fur trade. We find animal long bones that have been spirally fractured (green bone fracture) by a heavy implement to extract the marrow inside.
The shaft of this large ungulate femur, found near the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) was deliberately smashed open to extract the marrow inside.

Fort personnel even boiled animal bones to extract every ounce of fat. The evidence? We often find hundreds of thousands of crushed pieces of animal bone at fur trade archaeological sites.

“…bones were also crushed, and all the marrow fat extracted from them. This was done by boiling the bones in sufficient water to cover them, and as the marrow or grease rose to the surface it was carefully skimmed off….This fat was eaten with “pounded meat”, and was also used in making pemmican.” (Amelia M. Paget, 1909, at HBC Fort Qu’appelle in Saskatchewan)

Crushed animal bones from a historic site near Fort Vermilion. Evidence of possible bone boiling for the extraction of grease.

In the words of Paul Kane, one of Canada’s earliest artists, while visiting Fort Edmonton in 1847, Christmas dinner contained many of these dishes:

“At the head, before Mr. Harriot, was a large of boiled buffalo hump; at the foot smoked a boiled buffalo calf. Start not, gentle reader, the calf is very small, and is taken Caesarean operation long before it attains full growth. This, boiled whole, is one of the most esteemed dishes amongst the epicures of the interior. My pleasing was to help a dish of mouffle, or dried moose nose; the gentleman on my left distributed, with graceful impartiality, the white fish, delicately browned in buffalo marrow. The worthy priest helped the buffalo tongue, whilst Mr. Rundell cut up the beaver’s tail. Nor was the other gentleman left unemployed, as all his spare time was occupied in dissecting a roast wild goose….Such was our jolly Christmas dinner at Edmonton; and long will it remain in my memory…”

In Times of Scarcity

At the other end of the spectrum, when times were tough, people would eat other, leaner types of animals, such as varying hare, or greater portions of lean meat containing higher amounts of protein. When humans ingest large amounts of protein or lean meat, and less fat, some severe health issues may occur. This malady is described below by one of Canada’s greatest arctic explorers, Vilhjalmur Stephanson:

“If you are transferred suddenly from a diet normal in fat to one consisting wholly of rabbit you eat bigger and bigger meals for the first few days until at the end of about a week you are eating in pounds three or four times as much as you were at the beginning of the week. By that time you are showing both signs of starvation and of protein poisoning. You eat numerous meals:  you feel hungry at the end of each:  you are in discomfort through distention of the stomach with much food and you begin to feel a vague restlessness. Diarrhea will start in from a week to 10 days and will no t be relieved unless you secure fat. Death will result after several weeks.” (Vilhjalmur Stephanson, Arctic Explorer)

Protein poisoning is also commonly known as ‘Rabbit Starvation.’ Rabbit, or varying hare, meat is very lean. Fat comprises about six percent of the meat on a domestic rabbit and about two percent on a wild rabbit, or varying hare. In comparison, bison meat contains approximately sixteen percent fat. Explorer, David Thomson, while in Alberta, got sick from eating too much lean fresh meat from very thin game animals in the early spring.

Rabbit starvation is best explained by how much energy humans use to digest and metabolize certain types of macronutrients. Here is the SDA (specific dynamic action), or metabolism of macronutrients:

  1. Carbohydrates = 6%
  2. Fats = 14%
  3. Animal protein = 30%

This may explain why high lean meat diets result in weight loss. But these diets could potentially also be extremely dangerous. Also some studies (the China Study by C. Campbell, 2005) suggest there might be a relationship between high animal protein consumption and high heart disease rates. This study, however, is not without its critics.

The fur trade archaeological record

Whenever we excavate a fur trade site, we collect and identify all animal bone to animal taxa and element whenever possible. We can then reconstruct diet. So, what do the bones we find say about human diet during times of plenty versus times of scarcity? A lot. Here are a few examples:

FORT/NISP
(# of Identifiable specimens) 		Bison Moose Elk Beaver Varying Hare
Rocky Mt. Fort (1794 -1804) 181 678 12 748 143
Fort St. John’s (1806 -1823) 313 720 1595 136 639

In the above table, animal bones are listed from two fur trade forts in eastern British Columbia along the Peace River (from Burley et al, 1996). Rocky Mountain Fort was occupied when game animal populations were still very abundant. Fort St. John’s was occupied after nearly thirty years of fur trade activities in the region. When you do the math, at the latter fort, as game animal populations dwindled, the use of varying hare nearly tripled. Why? Fewer large game animals? Or, the cyclical population patterns of varying hare?

Region % Varying Hare
Lower Peace River Posts 14.2
Upper Peace River Posts 15.7
Fortes des Prairies Posts 2.2

The above table shows the percent of varying hare that made up the faunal assemblages of forts of various regions along the Peace River and along the Saskatchewan River. At the Saskatchewan River posts, large game animals were much more plentiful than at the Peace River posts. And consequently, there was a considerably less amount of varying hare animal bone present in those assemblages.

At Dunvegan, located along the Peace River, north of Grande Prairie, Alberta, for example:

“The men all hunting and fishing, but very unlucky….We are now in a very alarming situation, not having a mouthful to eat. The children are always going about the fort crying for something to eat.” (Dunvegan journals, 1805, one year after the fort was opened)

When the hunters brought in 855 pounds of moose meat in on June 11, 1854, it was, “…welcome enough as we were at our last gasp for Grub.” (Dunvegan journals, 1854)

Animal Grease/Fat Selection

Archaeologists have devised ways to determine whether there is a deliberate selection of those parts of the animal containing the highest amounts of fat. On the Y-axis the anatomical parts of large mammals are ranked according to the amount of fat in that part or anatomical unit(e.g., bison hump). The X-axis represents the relative number of bone elements from each unit (e.g., thoracic vertebrae for the hump of the bison) found in the archaeological record (adjusted for number of elements). If there was a deliberate selection of units with the most grease/fat, then bone elements with the lowest grease/fat content will occur in the lowest numbers and bone elements with the highest grease content would occur in the highest numbers.
At Fort George, where dietary stress was almost non-existent and large game was plentiful, there is a relatively good fit in the selection of animal parts containing the largest amounts of grease. Because people had more choice in meat selection, they choose parts of animals with the highest amount of fat, or grease.
At Fort Vermilion, northern Alberta, where game animals were often scarce, there was no deliberate selection of only animal units containing high amounts of grease. In other words, nearly every part of the animal was eaten.

How Did This Diet Affect the Health of People in the Fur Trade?

Well, that’s the interesting question, isn’t it. What does a diet in high meat protein and fat do to you over your lifetime? Currently, according to everything we’re told by experts, it could shorten your lifespan. Or causes other major health issues.

But these statements seem to fly in the face of other evidence in our human history. Humans for hundreds of thousands of years, when given a choice, selected meats with the highest fat content. And what about those Inuit? Reportedly very healthy before they started eating a North American diet.

I’ll try to answer that question in my next post. Read about the interesting approach I took to answer it with the available fur trade data.

And no, I am not secretly working for any Canadian bacon brands. Maybe they’ll approach me with advertising when they see this post. Not even promoting a greater use of fat in the Canadian diet.

A Few Key References

Pyszczyk, Heinz W. 2015. The Last Fort Standing. Fort Vermilion and the Peace River Fur Trade, 1798 – 1830. Occasional Papers of the Archaeological Society of Alberta. Number 14, April 2015. (In particular, Chapter 7 discusses the faunal remains found at the site in detail).

Hurlburt, Isobella. 1977. Faunal Remains from Fort White Earth N.W.Co. (1810-1813). Human History Occasional Paper No. 1. Provincial Museum of Alberta. Alberta Culture, Edmonton.

Brink, John W. 2001. Carcass Utility Inidces and Bison Bones from the Wardell Kill and Butchering Sites. In People and Wildlife in North America. S. Craig Gerlach and Maribeth S. Murray (eds), pp. 235-273. BAR International Series 944. (Jack Brink, formerly at the Royal Alberta Museum, has done extensive research on animal fats and their use by Plains First Nations in western Canada and the United States.)

Burley, David V. 1996. Prophecy of the Swan. The Upper Peace River Fur Trade of 1794 – 1823. UBC Press, Vancouver.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.]