Hello everyone. It’s been a while since I last posted here. However that does not mean I haven’t been writing. I have. Just to a different audience – my archeological colleagues. And when I tell you that I’ve been writing about how deep objects sink when stepped on, and what that means for the archeological record, I can already hear the sighs of relief. ‘Sure glad he didn’t share that gem with us.’
For me it doesn’t get much more exciting than that. At least during these Covid times when repeatedly stepping on marbles was the highlight of my day. In fact, when I carried out some of these experiments along the banks of the North Saskatchewan River near Devon, Alberta, this summer they drew a lot attention. As in, ‘What’s that weirdo doing?‘ People were obviously bored.
After explaining to one mother and her ten year old daughter, why I was stomping on marbles in a sandbox, the mom quickly whisked her daughter away, looking over her shoulder to make sure I wasn’t following. I guess I left quite an impression. That young girl will now have forever an image in her head of what an archaeologist looks like and does for a living. And it won’t be the Indiana Jones kind, but some old guy, with long white hair tied in a pony tail, trampling on marbles, then carefully recording those results. And that poor mother’s ‘Indi’ dream archaeologist was forever shattered as well.
Just setting up my archaeological experiment in the beautiful North Saskatchewan River Valley near Devon, Alberta. As archaeologists we are always concerned about time and stratigraphy. And whether objects from one layer get mixed up with objects from another lower layer representing a different time period. Only one way to find out. Stomp on them to see how deep they go.
There are times however when my profession is a little more exciting and the things we find are jaw droppers. One-of-a-kinds, such as this bone/ivory artifact found at the Fort Vermilion I (c.1798 – 1830) fur trade post in northern Alberta. We think it’s a toothbrush, perhaps one of the earliest ever to enter the province. This perfectly preserved object, with some of the bristles still intact at both ends, currently is the only one found in Alberta and I have only seen a fragment of one like it found at a NWT fort.
So what is an object like this doing at a frontier wilderness post in what was then the middle of nowhere (and in some respects still is)? My colleagues and I have been asking ourselves that question for some time now. Aside from idle speculation, we have few definitive answers. Dental hygiene was not at a very advanced stage at the turn of the 19th century anywhere in the world, let alone some Canadian frontier trading post. Especially among the lower income fort laborer’s.
Although the toothbrush was already invented in China sometime in the 7th – 8th century A. D. by the Dang Dynasty, it took a while for Europe to catch on.
Here’s what the toothbrush history experts have to say on the subject:
“At around 1780, the first toothbrush was made by William Addis of Clerkenald, England. Addis, and later, his descendants, manufactured the finest English brushes, where the handles were carved out of the bone of cattle and the heads of the natural bristles were placed in the bored holes made in the bone and kept in place by thin wire. The natural bristles were obtained from the necks and shoulders of swine, especially from pigs living in colder climates like Siberia and China.
By the early 1800s the bristled brushes were in general use in Europe and Japan. In 1857, H. N. Wadsworth was credited as the first American to receive a toothbrush patent as America entered the growing toothbrush market.” (https://mrs-o-c.com/computers/history/toothbrush/toothbrushHistory.htm
Here is sort of a similar-looking bone toothbrush from 1844:
It’s not as if this was a common artifact in western Canada. No. It was essentially a ‘one-off.’ And how did this rather pristine, still functional object end up in the fort midden pile? We can only speculate, but it seems reasonable to assume it belonged to a person who did not linger long at this ‘silvan abode in the woods.’ (A tongue-in-cheek quote from Alexander Ross, 1825, describing the rather decrepit looking Fort Assiniboine, Alberta) Or we would have found more like it.
Let me assure you this find is unusual and not normal fur trade archaeology. But then trampling on marbles isn’t either. Both however do make for a good story. In my next post I’ll speculate even more about this object with a short story of historical fiction. I wish I could share this post with that mother and child to help restore their image of archaeology. Too late for that though.
Until then, stay safe everyone.
In the meantime, in order to fight Covid, I’m going to brush my teeth with the new toothpaste I just acquired. If they had this toothpaste in the fur trade, we would have found a lot more toothbrushes:
The Scottish yole is a wooden boat, built in a variety of sizes in the Orkney Islands (and elsewhere) for fishing. It could be rowed or sailed. The boats are probably of Nordic origins.
The Hudson’s Bay Company recruited Orkneymen to work at their Canadian-based forts. They brought with them their boat building knowledge and soon built a boat that was adapted to work on Hudson Bay and then the inland waters of the Canadian West. It is commonly referred to as the York Boat, named after the Company’s York Factory on Hudson Bay. A craft similar to the yole but better suited for Canada’s lakes and rivers.
Hayes River, Near York Factory, Early Summer, 1796
“Faster men! Faster! Bail faster. No, paddle faster.” The helmsman of one of the Saskatchewan brigade canoes kept screaming, then pleading, for his charges to paddle and bail with all their might. Their now rickety birch bark canoe, full of holes from the wear and tear of over a thousand miles of river travel, was about to sink. And they along with it.
Peter Fidler, just named chief mapmaker and surveyor for the Hudson’s Bay Company, sat in one of the other canoes looking on. Mildly annoyed. About as annoyed as anyone could get when there was really nothing more to do but bail. But there was plenty of time to sit and think as well. These boats are leaking like sieves. And barely a tree in sight to repair them properly before we go back.
He wasn’t a man who complained much. He had already proven he was capable of putting up with tremendous hardships. Anything the Company threw at their new rising star, Fidler could handle. But he was frustrated on how to deal with this predicament. The Company’s inland transportation system was a mess. This sinking flotilla that carried their goods and furs for thousands of miles on the inland waters was a constant problem and headache.
Who do I blame more. This intractable Company or this hostile land? Peter often was torn on this matter.
And then there were the Canadians. An even bigger problem. Not only are we sinking half the time, those scoundrels help us to the bottom. Constantly harassing me and my men. Telling us we have no business in ‘their’ country. Fidler knew the Company was often the laughing stock of the west, barely able to keep their boats afloat let alone handle them.
It was always like this for the Hudson’s Bay Company canoe brigades. Now that they had to chase the furs inland instead of letting the Indians come to them at the Bay. By the time they reached Hudson Bay, their canoes were in tatters and they were hanging on to their very lives. They were at a great disadvantage to the Canadian-run North West Company, whose French Canadian voyageurs lived on the water for a good part of the year. The men knew how to build and handle the large birch bark freight canoes.
Damn those Canadian water dogs, thought Fidler. They outmaneuver us at every turn and take advantage of their superior skills with the canoes. Unlike our Orkneymen, while stout enough, but know nothing about these flimsy craft and how to best keep them afloat. He watched and bailed as the shore came steadily closer.
Fidler’s brigade finally made it to York Factory without sinking. But the men were unhappy. And Fidler heard the grumbling.
“God-dammit Peter, these craft leak like sieves if you just touch them. And they’re about as steady as a round log. Even the French Canadians complain. I overheard one old voyageur joking that when you sat in a loaded freight canoe you had to keep your tongue in the middle of your mouth or you would capsize the damn thing. This situation is ridiculous. And now, how are we going to fix these wrecks? There’s not a bloody birch tree within five-hundred miles of this place.”
Fidler could only nod in agreement. He tried to put James at ease. The complaining would only erode more the moral of his men. “We brought some bark rind with us James, so we can do the patchwork and get ready to go back. Settle down man. Unload the canoes and then go get drunk or something.”
Richard, another young, capable Orkneyman was already heading up the bank. He yelled back at the others. “I’m done lads. My contract’s up and I’m not signing on again. I’m heading home. I’ve had enough of these stupid boats. They’re about as sturdy as a hayseed in a wind storm.” Then he looked at Fidler.
“And, Sir, if the situation doesn’t improve, you won’t have any men left to work the canoes. And you’ll not get any new recruits out of the Orkney’s once word gets out. Christ, I’d rather sign on with his Royal Majesty’s press gangs and serve on a ship of the line, than put up with this shit.”
Again Peter Fidler said little. Because there was little to say. They were right. Now watching his men walk away he was becoming angry. It was time to talk with the Governor about the state of the Company’s inland operations, and the welfare of its employees.
He carefully unpacked his precious maps and instruments and started up the bank toward the fort. Thank God these didn’t get wet or lost. That would have been a real calamity. Peter Fidler’s first priority were his maps and logs. But, solutions to the Company’s transportation needs, and dealing with those Canadian pests, were taking up more and more of his time and energy.
…………………….
The Governor’s Residence, York Factory
Peter Fidler’s map of the Swan River and Upper Assiniboine Region. Fidler was a meticulous map maker. His works are considered equal to those of David Thompson. Giving him the title of Canada’s ‘forgotten’ mapmaker.
That evening Peter Fidler dined with the Governor and a few other company officers. After months of river travel through the wilds, the meal and companionship was welcome enough. But Fidler seemed slightly out of sorts, although he tried to keep up his side of the table-talk and news.
Samuel Wegg sensed something was wrong. Trained as a lawyer at Cambridge, a Fellow of the Royal Society, and eventually becoming Governor in 1782, Wegg missed little. Including Fidler’s seeming preoccupation with other things. Time to press a little bit to see what’s wrong with my favorite inland trader. He’s not normally this sour looking. Wegg waited patiently for his opportunity.
Wegg watched on as the tobacco pipes and brandy came out after the meal. Soon a cloud of aromatic tobacco smoke hung in the room. Wegg hoped maybe the young Fidler would relax and open up a bit. The setting was casual enough. By now Peter was well known, liked and respected, among the officers. His recent sojourns into the Canadian west and his excellent maps had gained him the admiration of not only the officers, but also the Company’s London committee.
Finally Wegg saw his chance. “Well, Peter, quite the haul of furs you brought back with you. Despite the fierce competition from the Canadians. You should be happy and proud of your accomplishments these last few years. A lucrative trade, adventure and map-making of a very high standard. Your maps are as good or even better than that traitorous scoundrel Thompson’s. Even Aaron Arrowsmith in London is impressed. He wants to publish your latest works. And newly married. What else could a man want?” The bait was out, but would Peter take it?
Fidler looked around at the men, then at the Governor, wondering. Should I risk it? Should I say something or just shut up? A few years back his choice would have been easy. ‘Be quiet.’ It was the Company’s problem not his. But now he realized he was fast becoming an important part of the Company and something had to be done soon or they would all be driven out of the west by the Canadians.
Suddenly he realized all eyes were looking his way. He poured himself another brandy and began. The other officers were silent, as if his words were important. Hoping he would say what some of them operating inland were also thinking.
“Well, Sir, if you must know it’s our transportation system out west. These birch bark freight canoes work well enough for the Canadians. They have many men with enough knowledge and materials to keep them afloat. We don’t, and it puts us at a great disadvantage in the trade.”
“You got back safe and sound Peter. What are you complaining about?” Wegg, pretending everything was well, had known for some time everything was not.
“Yes, with my feet in water at the bottom of our canoes. Ready to tip over any minute. Which are now battered and in need of repair. But, with nothing to repair them with. And Sir, our Orkneymen hate them. Absolutely detest them. If the Company continues to use them, I’m afraid we’ll lose our men and struggle even more out west. There are already shortages in manpower with the wars, and it’s becoming harder and harder to recruit good men from the Islands.”
George Sutherland, in charge of Edmonton House, who accompanied Fidler, finally spoke. Strangely William Tomison, in charge of Buckingham House, was missing at the table. “Sir, until we were forced to move inland what was the number one advantage we had in the trade over the Canadians?”
Wegg decided to play along. “Transportation and cost, of course. Even after moving inland, the cost of moving our supplies west and furs back are not nearly as high as that of the Canadians. If only our equipment was in better shape, so we don’t lose half of what we haul.”
“Then, Sir, what if we could reduce those costs even further by improving our system of supplying the western posts? And getting our furs safely to York Factory. That would really put a scare into those Canadians out west.” Sutherland looked at Fidler, waiting for him to take up the argument and continue.
Finally Peter spoke. “Governor, the Company has used the bateaus and York boats around the Bay for years. They are seaworthy, can go up the rivers a certain distance, and can haul tremendous amounts of goods. Why not try them out west?”
Smith, one of the officers stationed at York Factory, was already shaking his head. “You can’t be serious Peter? Those boats aren’t fit for the inland rivers and lakes. You might get out in the spring but you’d never make it back in the late summer and fall when the rivers drop and become very shallow. And the portages? How do you propose we haul a boat that weighs a ton or more across them?”
Fidler went on, as if he had already thought carefully about most of these obstacles. “We re-adapt the Bay boats. We built a boat to fit the country and its waters. Make the bottom flatter, so that its draft is extremely shallow and more suitable for the inland rivers. And we use a log roller and pulley system to move them over the portages. Each boat will need at least eight or nine men who can pull them. That’s a lot of manpower. Or, we build boats on either side of the major portages.”
Smith only snorted. “The Canadians would pillage and burn those boats in a heartbeat. They use some of the same inland routes we do. Or, we would have to leave men to guard them. That might not even work.”
“It might not. But what we’re doing right now, in fact, does not work. We need to change, soon. Or there won’t be any competition left for the Canadians.”
At theses last words the others were looking down, staring into their brandy glasses for inspiration. As if the answers to their problems lay somewhere down there. None seemed to appear.
Fidler pressed on. “Our only hope is to improve our means of transportation and hold on. Keep on competing with those renegade Canadians at every turn. We won’t always win, but every battle takes its toll. Eventually someone will break. If we survive, then we can tailor our transportation to suit our needs.”
“Meanwhile, I suggest we add a few more skilled craftsmen to some key forts. But keep in mind by using a York boat, which could haul at least three times as much as a freight canoe, we wouldn’t need as many canoes, nor men to paddle them.”
The room fell silent. Everyone, including the Governor, was weighing the matter carefully. It had its merits. But also its warts.
“You wintered at Buckingham House with William Tomison, Fidler. Did you put any of this to him?”
Fidler now had a somewhat dour look on his face. As if he was mulling something very distasteful over. Tomison’s not here.Why not?Well, might as well get it out there too. No sense stopping now, he thought.
“With all due respect, Sir. Mr. Tomison is a good enough trader. There isn’t a principle Native man in the country that he doesn’t know and who seem to like and respect him enough. All very important considerations in the trade. They like us better than those Canadians in most cases.”
“What’s wrong then Fidler. The look on your face doesn’t match your words very well.”
Fidler went on. “Sir, Mr. Tomison isn’t a very imaginative or creative man in these matters. He sticks to what he knows even if it might undo him. I have argued with him occasionally on this point and he refuses to budge. He has two fine young Orkney carpenters at the fort and that blacksmith Gilbert Laughton can fix or make anything. We have all the tools and expertise, except willpower, to make a few prototypes and try them out on the river. What have we got to lose?”
At those words the Governor scowled. He didn’t like his men backstabbing their fellow employees. But Fidler’s words made sense. And Tomison, while he was a steady enough man in the trade, was becoming more and more set in his ways. After thirty-five years with the Company, who wouldn’t. Refusing to see what needed changing before it was too late.
Then Wegg smiled, as if only now remembering something. And the atmosphere in the room lifted considerably. “Well, Fidler, it just so happens Mr. Tomison is coming out and going to England on leave. Why don’t you take over at Buckingham House for the winter and see what can be done.”
Fidler, at first somewhat shocked at these words, sensed that the Governor was already ahead of him in this matter. Why had he sent two very skilled carpenters west to Buckingham House? Certainly not to build cathedrals. And why Orkneymen? Those islands produced some of the best boat-builders in the British Isles. Men who built the sturdy yoles, crafted after the Norse longboats from centuries past. Suddenly Fidler had a new respect for Wegg.
He looked quickly over at Sutherland, who was looking into the blazing fire, grinning, with a very satisfied look on his face. Either he’s drunk or has already talked to the Governor about this matter.And I wonder what tidbits he’s put in the Governor’s ear? George Sutherland, even though quiet, was a crafty man. A thinking man. An Orkneyman who knew something about boats. Also, someone who knew the trade out west was falling to pieces unless they did something about it.
“Sir, I don’t particularly like going behind my superior’s back in these matters. It only causes even more disharmony among the men. And, we already have enough of that.” Fidler now had a worried look on his face, realizing what Tomison might later accuse him of if any this got out.
“Don’t worry about Mr. Tomison, Fidler. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll see the brilliance of our plan. Especially if you succeed. Besides, he’ll be nice and mellow, and most agreeable after his stay in England. Just carry on and do what’s needed. Do what you think is in the best interest of the Company. This business of transportation is a very serious matter, Gentlemen. So serious, if not fixed, soon, could break our backs in the west.”
Fall, 1796, the North Saskatchewan River
Just before the Hudson’s Company canoe brigade reached Buckingham House, they dawned their finest clothing, fired their muskets into the skies, and started singing as they paddled their canoes toward the fort. It was the custom of the land. They hoped their comrades at the fort heard the shots and would give them a hearty salute in return to welcome them home.
However, they were in for a surprise. There, a short distance downstream from their fort, were their rivals, the jeering Canadians, also ready to welcome them back. Shooting their muskets in the air and occasionally closely over their heads. A little too closely for comfort.
“Hey Fidler, what took you so long. You travel only half the distance we do and you arrive later than us.” There was John McDonald of Garth again, a brash Canadian Scot, waving his musket in one hand and his bottle of brandy in the other.
“Oh, Christ, Peter. Can’t we go out a distance so we don’t have to listen to their insults?” Young Isbister wanted nothing to do with the rowdy Canadians.
“Can’t John. We might sink. Our canoes are almost shredded from the journey. We need to make shore and fast.”
Just as they were about to pass the Canadians, someone on shore threw a clod of mud catching one of Fidler’s men square in the head, nearly knocking him senseless. A few of the men started to draw muskets, but Fidler yelled at them.
“Put your weapons away. No violence. It does little good here. Paddle faster. Let’s get past them and then we’ll be home.” Just as he finished a few of the Canadians threw out a large log which sliced through the water like a spear, squarely hitting one of the canoes in the side, and tearing a large hole in it. Now the men were frantically bailing, faster than even before.
MacDonald was at it again, shouting and jeering at the now sinking boat. “Well, Pro Pelle Cutem (for the pelt, the skin) my boys, or whatever it is your stupid Company motto means. I guess you’ll pay with your hides now, you cursed bastards. You should leave this country. Forever. You don’t belong here.”
MacDonald took another swig of brandy. Now refueled he hollered more insults across the water. “Arrogant English turds. You have a fancy slogan in Latin? Will your Latin help you now?”
One of Fidler’s men had enough. He suddenly drew his musket and fired at McDonald, barely missing the man and smashing his brandy bottle in the process. Instead of being frightened for his life, McDonald, now fuming bellowed out. “You broke my bottle and the brandy’s all gone, you Orkney twit.” He began to draw his musket, but having trouble now both standing and trying to find it. Before managing more mischief, he was quickly grabbed by his men and dragged up the bank to the North West Company fort, still swearing and cursing.
As the Hudson’s Bay Company canoes finally reached home, they had a much more cordial welcome from their people. The muskets were fired into the air to salute the brigade’s return. Finally, home. But, barely. The leaves were turning and the nights were already frosty. Soon the Saskatchewan would freeze up for another season. And it would get incredibly cold.
Buckingham House, Peter Fidler’s Quarters
April 8, Friday, [1796]. Wind and weather as yesterday. Four men finished the bateau. Tailor making clothing for the men, one man ailing, and the rest pointing stockades and fitting them to the ribbon. At noon one tent of Indians brought thirty beaver and three rolls of birchrind not very good. Also in the evening William Tate and Robert Garrock returned, brought eight rolls of birchrind very bad. (Journal of George Sutherland, Edmonton House; HBCA B.60/a/1, 1795-96; brackets mine)
Fidler was in his winter quarters. Standing in front of the fire, trying to warm up after their journey. He turned toward his man. “Well, Samuel. How was the summer? I hope you followed my instructions and got what we needed.”
Samuel, standing in front of Fidler, was wringing and twisting his hat, as if trying to squeeze something out of it.
“Sir, we tried. First we wanted to trade birch rind with the Natives coming to the fort. They gave us little and only of poor quality. Wouldn’t part with any of the good rind. When we asked why, they merely grinned and said our competition gives twice the amount we do for a good role of birch rind.”
Fidler frowned. His first few days back in charge and nothing but bad news everywhere. And those rotten Canadians were constantly meddling in their business. He sighed. If this continued, it would be a long, long winter. No wonder Tomison sometimes acted like an eighty-year old. This business could wear you out.
“At least then we have the rolls that we stock-piled this spring. We desperately need to repair our canoes or we might not make it out next spring. Good thing Tomison managed to lay in that bark for our canoes.”
“Oh, that’s gone too, Sir. Some scoundrel set fire to it. It’s all burned up. Nothing left but a few charred pieces. We’ll try trading for more, but it will cost us triple to get anything good.”
Fidler’s frown deepened. He guessed who the ‘scoundrels’ were that Samuel was referring to. “Just what the hell are we going to do, Samuel? We need that rind or find another way of moving our goods.” Then he remembered his meeting with the Governor. Instead of whining, it was time to act.
“Samuel, go fetch the two Orkney carpenters and Gilbert Laughton. We need to make a plan, now, fast before it’s too late.”
Samuel nodded and was about to run out to fetch the men. “But before you go, Samuel, be a good lad and bring me that bottle of brandy from the cellar. I’m going to need it before this is all over.”
A rare find. This liquor bottle found in the cellar beneath the officers’ quarters at the Hudson’s Bay Company Buckingham House. The same quarters that Peter Fidler wintered in 1796-97. It may have contained brandy. Or perhaps some other type of liquor.
During the early fur trade, most liquor was sent out west in wooden kegs. Glass goods were a rarity and probably smuggled in. A complete, intact bottle, cork and all, is even a more rare find. (Photograph, courtesy of the Royal Alberta Museum)
……………………
Buckingham House, December 20th, 1796.
Dear Sir [George Sutherland], Your men arrived here all safe the 18th instant, and have sent as much trading goods as loaded the six horses (which was all they brought down) as per list enclosed. The awls, steels, worms etc. shall be made as soon as the cold weather is over, which of late has been so intense (sixty below the cypher) that the smith could not get anything made of small articles; hitherto he has been employed in repairing falling hatchets (as there was not any fit for use here) and making nails for the bateaux.
Shall pay every attention in getting the boats as fast forward as possible – one is nearly finished and the carpenters will go to the woods after Christmas to saw stuff for the other one….
Wishing you health and a happy new year I remain dear Sir, your obedient humble servant Peter Fidler. (Letter from Peter Fidler, Buckingham House, to George Sutherland, Edmonton House; HBCA B.60/a/2; brackets mine)
“You want to do what, Peter? Build a yole? This isn’t the bloody North Sea, you know. That trickle of water down there won’t hold a boat that size. You’ll be scraping along the bottom of the drink all the time.” Fidler’s blacksmith, Gilbert Laughton, also an Orkneyman, was not entirely optimistic this new plan would work.
“Nicol, John, you’re both boat carpenters. What do you think? Can we do it? This blasted canoe business has to stop. And Tomison isn’t around to sink our plans.”
John Davey was also among the group. “Can I help, Sir. I want to learn as much as I can about the boats and how to build one. I think it will revolutionize how we transport our goods.”
Both Nicol Spence and John Moore looked at the young Davey. “What exactly do you know about boats, Davey? And water? I saw you nearly drown when ankle deep in the river.” The two men had a good laugh at the now red-faced Davey’s expense.
“I sailed a lot before I came to the Colonies. I watched the men at home build the boats, but I was still too young to learn properly. We could modify our boats a bit from what we used at sea. To better suit the river.”
“How so, John? Those boats worked well enough. What would you do different?” Peter, although knowing already what was needed, was intent on hearing everyone out, before making any decisions.
After thinking a bit, Davey answered, “The prow of the boat has to be pretty narrow to cut easily through the river currents. The beam should be wider than our yoles, for more stability and cargo space. Then I would design the hull with almost no deadrise, so the draft would be small, and she would sit right on top of the water. Even when empty, because of the width, she would still be pretty stable.”
Fidler looked at Davey with a new kind of interest. The lad seemed to know what he was talking about. “What about strength? We need something that won’t fall apart when we look at it, or step in it.”
“Sawed lap-planks, Sir. We’ll build a ‘clinker boat’ with planks about an inch thick, overlapping one another. We’ll steam them and bend and nail them around the frame. Then we’ll caulk or spruce gum the seams.” Davey, now beet-red from forgetting to breath while he talked, was getting excited about the project.
Two types of wood boat framing commonly used on wooden ship hulls. Clinker boat frames (left) resemble the Viking ships and were very strong, and also used to make yoles in the Orkney Islands.
“We can’t use iron nails, John. They’ll rot out in the water.” Spence was scratching his head wondering what to do about this problem. They could dowel the boards in to place, but they wouldn’t hold up well in the tough, harsh river conditions.
Gilbert Laughton, who had been quietly listening, spoke up after the last remark. “I’ll take care of the metal works for the boat, including the nails. I have something in mind.”
“Then it’s settled men. Work all winter on three prototypes. John can you draw? If so, draw up a plan for the carpenters on what you want.”
“I will, Sir. Can I watch and help build them too?”
“Yes, of course, John. You’re now the chief architect of the project. But here’s how I want them built. The first two boats must each have different siding and hull configurations, and the third one…” He talked quietly to his men laying out his instructions, as if someone might overhear them. When he finished they all stared at him, wondering if he had already been drinking to come up with such an idea.
“And not a word about any of this to anyone. Especially those Canadian buggers across the way.”
His men looked at him questionably about construction of the last boat. “Are sure that’s wise Peter? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?” Then Fidler filled in his men why he wanted the last boat built that way. “It’s time to fight back men. And, this is as good an opportunity as any to do it.”
When he finished the men left happy enough, but still scratching their heads over his last request. Wondering what happened to that usually non-violent nature of his.
Hand-forged brass or copper alloy nails found at the Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Edmonton (c.1830 – 1915). More rust-resistant and likely used for construction of York boats which became a primary industry at this fort.
Buckingham House, Early Spring, 1797
1797, Edmonton House, April 24th. Dear Sir [Peter Fidler], The backwardness of the spring will very much retard the building of canoes and consequently will occasion a late embarkation….The river ice has given way opposite the house, but remains fast both above and below yet the water falloff fast. Send up all the men with the craft except the canoe builders. I will dispatch twenty men in the four canoes here as soon as the river ice gives way with what furs and provisions they can take. If the boats are finished Nichol Spence, boatbuilder, may come up the first trip as he is to summer here, he being unfit for the passage, and John Moor goes down with the boats in case of accidents; let him keep what tools he thinks will be necessary for the passage. Send up all the plank cut for boats by the boats as that article will be difficult to get at this place. The canoes can take all the trading goods and stores. If you have any spare line for tying bundles I beg you to send it as we are short of that article here.…Wishing you better success I am yours etc. G.S. (Parts of a letter to Peter Fidler, Buckingham House, from George Sutherland, Edmonton House; HBCA B.60/a/2, 1796-97; brackets mine)
Peter Fidler stood in the boat yard at the back of the fort. It was well concealed from prying Canadian eyes by a six-foot high partition fence. Over their heads was a wide, long roof attached to high poles, open on the sides, under which the men could work without getting snowed on and sheltered from the wind. Beside him in pits dug in the ground, the shape of a large canoe, sat their freight canoes also under repair. The pits kept the shape of the boats and the birch rind moist, preventing it from cracking.
“They look marvelous men. But will they do the job?” Fidler ran his eyes down the long, sleek wooden boats. Two boats were finished and the third one nearly finished.
John Davey looked up, a big grin on his face. As if this was the best work he had ever done.
“They’re great, Sir. It was challenging work. But so much fun. I feel now I could build one by myself.”
“Tell me a little more about them, John. What’s the main difference in them, from the ones on the Bay?”
“Well Sir, this one here is the biggest. But nowhere’s as big as some of the Bay boats. It measures forty feet from end to end, is slightly less than four feet deep and eight feet across at the beam. It’s clinker-built and the bottom is nearly flat. Both ends are nicely raked so it should be easy to get off the rocks and sand bars. I figure this one could float over three tons of cargo.” Davey beamed, stroking his boat, as he spoke.
“This one here looks almost the same, John?”
“This differs mostly in size. It’s only thirty feet long, three feet deep, and about six-and-one-half feet at the beam. And the planking on the sides are the carvel type. It makes a very smooth hull, giving it less resistance in a strong current. However, while this boat is strong enough, it’s not nearly as strong as the other. It carries less cargo but works better in shallow rivers.”
Spence looked up from his work. “The keels were difficult to make, Sir. We carved them out of tamarack, the hardest, most rot-resistant wood there is in this country. Here, Sir, put your ear on the end of the keel. And give me your watch.”
Fidler did so and then Spence put the pocket watch on the other end of the keel. A surprised Fidler answered. “I can hear the ticking of my watch, Spence, from way down here. It resonates through the wood.”
“But, not through any wood, Sir. Only the soundest, strongest wood will do that. The keel has to put up with tremendous punishment. If it isn’t sound, the boat won’t last.”
Then Fidler turned to the last boat still under construction. “And, I presume this one’s for our Canadian friends. Looks even smaller and not as well built.”
Davey nodded in agreement. “It will do what you requested within an hour of being put in the water. It’s all about the planking and the bottom of the boat.”
“Well done men. Finish the last one before the ice breaks up and starts moving and then we’ll put our plan into action.” They all smiled at what was about to happen.
“But, Peter. We need to name them. That’s the proper thing to do. Do you have any suggestions?” Spence waited expectantly as Fidler mulled over some names for the boats.
“OK. I think I have it. This first big one here, we’ll name Explorer. The second smaller one Chance.”
The men waited for the last name. Fidler was thinking, then suddenly smiled. “This men will be the new motto for the Canadians.” Then he whispered the name of the boat to his men. They all laughed at the name, shaking their heads. A perfect name for their last boat.
………………………
This reconstructed York boat sits on display at Fort Edmonton Park, Edmonton, Alberta. The fort was a major boat builder for the Saskatchewan brigades for many years.
Samuel barged into Fidler’s quarters, all out of breath. “The ice is moving, Sir. If the weather holds, in two or three days we can launch.”
“Good Samuel. Tell the men to prepare to move the boats down the creek ravine to the river. It’s all downhill and with the snow they will slide easy enough. Make sure the boats are well tied so they don’t get away on you. Remember, that’s about a ton of boat there and when it starts moving downhill, it will be hard to stop.”
“Yes, Sir. We’ll prepare everything for departure. The men are ready. They know what to do and how to handle these boats. They were brought up with them. Some were probably born in them.”
Fidler simply nodded as Samuel left. Beside him sat his blacksmith, and also occasionally gunsmith, Gilbert Laughton. An indispensable man at these frontier forts. Who was admiring one of his fancy twisted ornate hand-forged nails, fresh out of the forge. The two men were drinking, talking about the trade and the welfare of the Company. And their plans to get their furs to York Factory.
“Do you think they’ll take the bait, Peter? They might get suspicious about our motives and tactics.” He looked over at Fidler, waiting for a reply.
“Oh, they’ll take the bait alright. They’re down by the river right now getting ready to embark as soon as the ice leaves. After all that bullshit they’ve been fed about a special bonus for the first furs to Europe from the Colonies this year, they’ll bite. They’re a greedy bunch of heartless bastards, when it comes right down to it. Thought of only wealth dulls one’s wits, my friend.”
Laughton looked at Fidler. A crafty man. But hardly a violent man. Or, was he? Whatever had drawn him to come up with something like this? And, if his plan ever worked, would the Canadians forgive him? Probably not. They would hound him in the trade for the rest of his days. “Well, it’s not my problem Peter, but you sure know how to make enemies.”
“It can’t get any worse than this, Laughton. Can it?
………………….
Angus Shaw, chief trader in charge of the North West Company’s Fort George, stood down by the river overseeing preparations for departure for Montreal. As soon as that damn ice clears out, we’ll be off. If we’re to beat the HBC, he thought. Then he heard a peculiar noise. Coming from up above. A high pitched screeching sound, as if someone was raking their nails over glass. Then the yelling and hollering. Laughing, cursing and everything in between.
He looked over towards the creek above them and there before his very eyes, out from the ravine shot a large wooden boat, skidding smoothly on the snow and ice towards the water. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
John McDonald, standing beside him, turned and looked the same direction. Then he saw it too. A fully laden boat with enormous oars sliding swiftly towards the river. “What in the hell is that…?”
But before he could finish his sentence, another one appeared behind it. And then another. The Canadians stood transfixed on the banks of the river as the HBC men made preparations to launch the boats into the river.
“Angus, they can’t go out into that bloody current and ice. It’ll tear them apart. It’s too dangerous. They’ll all die.”
Shaw was now fully beginning to realize what was happening and the implications it had on the trade. “You mean John, we can’t go out there with those flimsy birch bark freight canoes. That ice would crush them like an eggshell. There would be nothing left within minutes.”
“Angus, do you know what this means? They’ll get to York Factory faster and back to Europe to collect that bonus. We’ll lose, if we don’t stop them.”
“And how do you propose to do that, John? Look, they’ve already launched one boat and the second one is ready to go. It’s too late to stop them.”
Then McDonald saw it. The third boat was empty and simply stowed near the edge of the river, but not launched. A few men were looking after it. Shaw saw it too and both men looked knowingly at one another. “Tonight John, we’ll take that one and follow them. And then plan some mischief to stop them before they get too far ahead of us.”
Both men scurried toward their voyageurs and told them their plan. Meanwhile the other voyageurs were watching in awe as the large York boats went bobbing down the river, loaded with furs and crew. Soon they disappeared from sight.
That night John McDonald of Garth took nine of his most ruthless voyageurs down to the water. They threatened the HBC men guarding the last boat, who seemed to run away without much resistance.
“Cowards. Those Orkneymen have no backbone whatsoever. Right, Pierre. Now get this hulk into the water and chase them down. Destroy their boats, if you can. Quickly before they get too far ahead of you.”
“But, Sir. The men are a little leery about whether these things can float. They much prefer the canoes. And Sir, what’s the name of this boat written on the bow? I can’t seem to read it.”
McDonald stared at the writing. He couldn’t read it either. “Just another stupid Latin motto of theirs. Who cares.” McDonald was getting upset with the delay.
“Now get in the goddamned boat and follow them, or I’ll dock you a year’s pay, Pierre. A bonus for you and your men, if you catch them. Load this boat with furs. We might as well use this opportunity to move some of them downriver. We’ll follow you in our canoes as soon as the ice stops running. Good luck.”
Pierre reluctantly obeyed McDonald. Within an hour the York boat was loaded and they pushed off in pursuit of the HBC brigade. McDonald’s last words, however, kept ringing in his ears as the fort disappeared from site. “Good luck.” He sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
June 18, 1797, Sunday.Arrived at the Great Rapid, where we took out all the furs, and shot down the rapid without injuring the boats or canoes. Indeed the boats seems to exceed even my utmost expectations on the falls as they did not ship any water, although the waves ran very high. (The journal of George Sutherland, Grand Rapids; HBCA B.60/a/2)
York Fort, Early Summer, 1797
This York boat still floating at Norway House in the early 1930s. Most craft had eight rowers and one steersman. The largest of these craft were capable of carrying six tons. (Image from Mary Bruce (1929-32), Norway House).
I cannot help expressing my satisfaction at the probable advantages the honourable Company are likely to reap from the use of boats in this quarter. The easy draught of water, the facility with which we have brought them from Edmonton House to this place – a distance of 1200 miles – the cargoes they are likely to carry up to from whence they came etc. (Journal of George Sutherland, Gordon House; HBCA B.60/a/2)
Going down rapids with the boats was easy. The hard part was hauling a heavy York boat through shallow waters back up the rivers; as in this photograph somewhere between Norway House and York Factory. Despite their shallow draft, by the end of the summer, some places on the rivers were very shallow and it took a lot of work to move the large boats along. (HBCA Collections).
Samuel Wegg stood on the shore and watched the spectacle unfold before him on the Hayes River. Two fully loaded wooden boats, now under sail were gliding toward him. They were beautiful and reminded him of the larger Viking craft he had read about and saw in illustrations. Even though they were fully loaded they sat high in the water. Now sitting behind their oars were eight men resting while the boat was under sail. Each man sat on the opposite side of the boat from where the long oars dipped into the water. Behind them came more lightly loaded canoes. The Saskatchewan brigade had finally arrived. Peter Fidler had returned.
Once Fidler landed, Wegg approached him. “You did very well, Peter. And, you’re early. Very impressive. Those are beautiful craft. Much better designed for the rivers than our Bay vessels. You must have very gifted boat builders to make those.”
“Thank you, Sir. They work well enough. There are still some things that need to be improved upon but in time we will have the right craft for the right conditions.”
“But these boats are heavy. How did you manage at the portages?”
“Coming down the rapids was easy. When we go back up the rapids, we put them on log rollers. And then with ropes and pulleys we haul them over the portage trails. Hard work, but we have enough men. So, there’s no need to unload everything. Not really any more work than with the freight canoes when you think about it.”
“And I see you can sail them when the wind is right?”
“That’s probably one of really big advantages, Sir. Not only can we sail them, but we can cross the larger lakes under rougher conditions than with the freight canoes. They have such a wide beam, they are very stable, even when fully loaded. We can carry three tons of goods on that big one, Sir. And these Orkney ‘river rats‘ are well suited to man them.”
Wegg only nodded, now seemingly in deep thought. Then he produced a paper from his jacket. “That’s all good, Peter. I think these craft are exactly what we need inland to move our goods and reduce our costs.”
Fidler looked at the paper in Wegg’s hands. It was a letter. “Sir, is something wrong? You look a little perplexed.”
“Here read this letter, Peter. It just came recently from one of the inland NWC masters by special courier canoe. You know, those really fast ones. It seems there was some trouble out west, near your fort.”
Fidler took the letter and began to read. After he finished he simply smiled.
“Care to explain Peter. There are some very pissed off people in Montreal. It seems they lost a third of their furs in one of the craft they claim you built for them. Similar to these two. Four men still missing, and the other five managed to get back to the fort, barely. All furs on board lost.”
“Well, yes, Sir. We built a third prototype York boat and left it by the river. Intending on using it later. But it really wasn’t for the Canadians. Unless they chose to steal it of course. They must have capsized or were crushed by the ice. These things happen occasionally, Sir.”
“Well that’s not what the survivors claim, Peter. They said suddenly after about an hour the boat sprang leaks everywhere and began to fall apart. Then it sank before anyone could get it safely to shore.” Wegg looked at Fidler, waiting for a reply.
“Sir, I guess we forgot to tell the Canadians the name of the third prototype. It was written right on the sides of the bow. Maybe they might not have taken it. But those Canadians can’t read it seems. That big boat you see, we named Explorer, and the second, Chance.”
“And what was the name of this last boat the Canadians manned?”
“Oh, well, Sir. That one we named the Collabefio. We gave it a Latin name after the Canadians made fun of the Company’s Latin motto.”
Wegg thought for a moment, then burst into laughter. “And it bloody worked well, didn’t it Peter. ‘Sink Together’, I believe, in Latin. Sank like a stone. And, you got back at those Canadians constantly tormenting you. You truly have great boat builders.”
“The best, Sir. And I might add that we need more, if we are going to make inroads on our competition.”
Wegg nodded in full agreement. “Hopefully not to build more ‘sinkers’, Peter?” He chuckled as he again viewed the sleek boats in front of him, sliding his hand over the prow of Explorer. These craft could change their fortunes.
“Come Peter, let the men unload the craft and tell me more about these boats and the trade over some brandy. Before Nancy gets her hooks into you. I hope to hell this deed with the Canadians doesn’t follow you around for the rest of your days. You’ve made some powerful enemies my friend. But, also some powerful friends.”
With that Wegg clapped Fidler on the back and the two men strolled toward the Governor’s quarters, talking about the quality of this year’s furs.
……………………….
Image of a York boat at Fort Garry, Manitoba, Canada, showing the rather massive size of some of these craft.
End Notes
Many of my stories are about things. Objects. Material culture. This story’s primary focus is the object, this time the HBC’s York boat. The object drives the story, and not solely the individual, Peter Fidler. It’s not like: “This is Peter Fidler and here’s what he did. By the way, this is the York boat he helped build.” The object is not just some sidebar to the narrative. It is a very important part of the narrative.
We all think we control material culture. We invent things for our use. And, to a point we do. But, would we truly be living and acting the way we do if the automobile had not been invented? Or the airplane? Or, the smart phone? Once the genie is let out of the bottle, it begins to control our lives. Sometimes in ways we had not expected.
My story about the York boat is no different. Introduction of this craft, at a time when the HBC was struggling to compete with their rivals the Canadian-based North West Company, may have been one of those ‘game changers’ in the western Canadian fur trade. It affected the Company’s operations in many ways.
Archaeologists did find canoe-shaped pits at Buckingham House, either to build and/or store canoes in them. Gilbert Laughton did make some very ornate looking hand-forged nails at Buckingham House. Some with twisted shanks. Perhaps deliberately so they wouldn’t loosen in the wood when driven home. Perhaps the man was just bored.
The debate is still out where the first York boats were built on the Saskatchewan. Some believe at Edmonton House, in 1795-96. Others believe at Buckingham House in 1796-97. Bateaus (a flat-bottomed boat with raked bow and stern and flaring sides) did exist at Edmonton House in 1796. But were they the same as the boats built by Fidler’s men at Buckingham House? Which eventually became the York boats used on the Saskatchewan River and elsewhere?
Peter Fidler’s struggles and quarrels with the NWC are not imagined. We don’t need to conjure up too much violence and harassment when writing about the competition between the Hudson’s Bay Company and the North West Company. It was real enough and happened in epic in proportions. The men of the two Companies often behaved like bad, immature children.
The idea for this story didn’t come from what Fidler did in the 1790s, which in itself was quite remarkable. Successful explorer, surveyor, mapmaker and trader. It was what bad fortunes befell him in the early nineteenth century before he finally retired in 1821 that started the idea for this story. It seemed, from reading his journals, he went from one calamity to another, mostly at the expense of the North West Company.
So, what did Fidler do that was so bad as to be harassed and hounded by the Canadians for the next fifteen years? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time, badly outnumbered by his Canadian foes? With often poor support from the Hudson’s Bay Company? Or, was there something else? For more details, here’s a link to Peter Fidler’s biography describing some of those encounters.
Whatever the case, the only real blow that Peter Fidler dealt the North West Company was helping introduce the York boat on the Saskatchewan River. He helped solve one of the many logistical nightmares the Company faced early on in the Canadian northwest.
It is therefore perhaps fitting to end this story with this massive wooden statue of Peter Fidler erected by the community of Elk Point. In memory of one of Canada’s ‘forgotten surveyors and map makers’.
Wooden statue in honor of Peter Fidler, Elk Point, Alberta, Canada, taking a reading with his sextant. With some of his known descendants standing in the foreground.
In Western Canada, early fur trade fort inhabitants relied mostly on large amounts of wild game meat for their food. By the 1840’s, the Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Edmonton grew enough grain to make flour. Occasionally, when the crops and the game failed, times got real tough at many of these forts. Especially in the north. Photograph of reconstructed Fort Edmonton with the grist mill in the background (courtesy of the City of Edmonton Archives, EA-207-325).
Fort Wedderburn, Lake Athabasca, Athabasca District, Spring, 1821
George Simpson sat at his rough, crudely made wooden table carefully composing his letter to the shareholders of the Hudson’s Bay Company in London. Also, carefully balancing himself on his rickety chair with the one leg shorter than the others. His breath came out in short puffs, it was so cold in the little log cabin facing the large expanse of frozen lake. The fire was roaring in the hearth, barely keeping the little room warm. He wrote quickly so the ink wouldn’t freeze on the tip of his goose quill pen.
He glanced up at his clerk, William, who was patiently waiting for his new governor to finish the letter, so he could pack it with the other dispatches on the canoe brigades to York Factory. And then off to London by ship. William usually wrote the dispatches for Simpson, but not this time. This matter was much too important for a mere clerk to undertake.
William already recognized that look on the new governor’s face. Simpson was in a foul mood, shaking his head and writing furiously. “This nonsense must stop William. The Native women are important to the trade, both in their knowledge of the country, their work, and the alliances they form when they enter marriages with the men of the trade.”
“But those morons in London don’t seem to understand this simple fact. They insist we not support women at our inland posts. Imbeciles. All of them.”
He leaned over his letter and wrote some more. “How does this sound William?”:
“Connubial alliances are the best security we can have of the good will of the natives. I have therefore recommended the Gentlemen to form connections with the principal families immediately on their arrival, which is no difficult matter, as the offer of their Wives and Daughters is the first token of their friendship and hospitality.” (Parts of a letter sent by George Simpson to the London Committee of the Hudson’s Bay Company, May 15, 1821)
He looked up at William, as if waiting for approval of his work. Then he smiled. Somehow it always felt good when you could vent by writing. “Anyway, what can they do in London to stop us if we dearly need the help of women to be successful in the trade? How will they ever find out?”
William wasn’t about to argue with his new master. Even if he had a contrary opinion. Which he didn’t. Simpson had a long memory when someone crossed him.
“It sounds fine, Sir. I’ll make sure it’s sent out with the spring brigades once the ice goes out.”
“That’ll be all then, William. I need some rest. This business with the women saps the energy out of me.”
As William left and closed the governor’s door behind him, he thought to himself. If you didn’t stay up all night entertaining those ‘bits of brown’, as you call them, perhaps you wouldn’t feel so tired. He shook his head and went to his quarters. He would send an additional note along with Simpson’s letter to one of Simpson’s staunchest supporters among the shareholders. A Sir Arthur Meddlock. Chairman of the board. All hell would break loose when this issue came up at the London Committee meeting.
………………………
“…we have it in contemplation to make up the Clothes principally at this place and at the English Establishments which….would reduce the Expense very materially as the labour would actually cost nothing it being the duty of the Women at the different Posts to do all that is necessary in regard to Needle Work.” (HBC, Minutes of Council Northern Department of Rupert Land, 1821-22)
London, England, December, 1821
The shareholders met in the enormous hall, in London, England to discuss the Honorable Company’s business in the Colonies. They were some of the most powerful men of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and England, which was now preparing to monopolize the Canadian fur trade in North America. After just recently amalgamating with their Canadian rival, the North West Company.
But tonight, instead of celebrating their achievement, there was strife and tension in the air. Not everyone was happy. In fact, a few were livid.
One of the Company shareholders, a Sir Jeremy Jacobs, was shouting at Sir Arthur Meddlock. Jacobs was young, opinionated and often quite brazen at these meetings. In short, mostly full of himself.
“Why, in the name of the King of bloody England, Mr. Meddlock, must we feed and support these women at our inland posts? They’re a burden to us and only reduce our bloody profits. Yet, you sit there nonchalantly as if it really doesn’t matter.” He waited for Meddlock to respond. There was only silence.
So, he continued. “The Company men were strictly forbidden to support the Indian population at the inland forts. But, from what I hear, they ignore these instructions at every turn. How could that Simpson recommend such a thing? He, of all people, should know better. Perhaps we should look for another Governor to run this most honorable enterprise.” Jacobs spat out these last words in Meddlock’s face. A face which was becoming increasingly crimson by the second.
Meddlock, as Chair of these sometimes rowdy meetings, always the diplomat and man of control, was beginning to lose his patience with the young, brash Jacobs.
“It can’t be stopped Sir Jacobs. I’ve been informed by the Governor that the women are necessary to carry out the Company’s business and comfort the men. Without them our operations simply wouldn’t work.”
Another shareholder piped up. ” Necessary? Necessary to warm their beds, you mean. And I hear Simpson is the worst of the lot. They’re beginning to call him the ‘father’ of the fur trade. And, for good reason. He’s lost count of the number of children he’s sired from so many different Native women.”
“These women cost us an arm and a leg and then produce offspring who then cost us even more. And what are we going to do with all these people? We can’t employ them all. This must stop Mr. Chairman. Before it really gets out of hand.”
“With all due respect Sir Franklin, it can’t be stopped. If we stopped it, we would never recruit another man to work in the Colonies. And our fort operations would suffer considerably. Instead, I propose we formally indenture the women and officially put them to work, which they already do, to help our operations.”
As soon as Meddlock uttered these words, all hell broke out again in the great hall. Most were opposed. Some were convinced that Simpson was right. “Stop. Enough. Order, or I’ll adjourn this meeting.” Finally, the Chair managed to regain order.
Franklin however, was not finished. “Sir, let me get this right. Are you suggesting we put these women and children on the books?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. That’s what Simpson wants. In that way we can better manage the trade and the costs instead of simply ignoring them. That’s Simpson’s plan.”
Again there was an uproar. Jacobs was now standing. Approaching Meddlock and pointing accusingly at him. Becoming more threatening and menacing every moment.
“This is sheer lunacy, Meddlock. It must be stopped. I demand it be stopped. I think you’re in league with that scoundrel Simpson.”
“Sir Jacobs. Keep your confounded wig on man,” the chairman shouted out. “Enough already. It seems we are divided on this topic. Any suggestions as to how to proceed?” No one answered. Most were too busy fuming, not thinking.
Meddlock, now having regained his composure looked around the room and then calmly spoke. The room fell silent. “Then I have one. One or two of you go to the Colonies and spend a year in the interior to observe the situation. Then report back to this committee so we can make an informed decision. It seems Mr. Simpson’s opinion alone is insufficient on this matter.”
Suddenly, heads dropped, eyes turned to the floor, and human bodies shrank, no longer puffed up, but becoming smaller. Trying their best to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. No one volunteered.
Meddlock looked into the eyes of Jacobs, still standing, a finger pointing, frozen like a statue in front of him. Jacobs felt suddenly exposed, realizing too many eyes were looking at him.
“Jacobs! You seem to be most opposed in this matter. What say you? Want to join Simpson in the Colonies for a year? It would do you some good. Give you a whole new perspective.”
Jacobs only sputtered. Thinking of how this could possibly do him any good. He really didn’t want a new perspective. “Sir, I couldn’t leave my family, my business and spend my time with those savages out there. Impossible, Sir. Quite impossible.” With that Jacobs turned and looked around for other volunteers. Hoping, almost pleading that someone else would raise their hand. No one did. A few members had already quietly slipped out of the room.
“Well Jacobs since you only wish to argue and shout, but not gain new information, maybe we should just put the matter to a vote, and stop all this nonsense.” Meddlock again watched as the hall turned into an uproar. Only now a number of shareholders were in Jacobs’ face telling him, imploring him, even threatening him, to go to Canada and gather information.
Jacobs’ pride, now at stake, looking quite defeated, finally succumbed. After all, he was the most vocal one in the group. He gathered his courage, and then looked defiantly into Meddlock’s eyes. “Alright Sir. I’ll bloody go and see why we need these people at our posts.” With those words a loud cheer went up in the hall. From the usually very ‘proper and reserved’ English gentlemen. Many came by to pat Jacobs on the back and congratulate him on his decision. Mostly glad that they weren’t the ones going. Jacobs simply nodded. Wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into.
Arthur Meddlock looked calmly on, thinking. This one has more guts than I thought. Young. Rich. Independent. But still willing to go on a journey that most men of his stature would shy away from. Well, we’ll see Sir Jeremy Jacobs, what it is you’re really made of.
“Well, the matter’s settled then. We’ll postpone a vote on this issue until we hear back from Sir Jacobs.” With that the Chairman pounded his gavel hard on the table. The meeting was officially adjourned. And the dining and wining soon began.
…………………………..
Fort Vermilion, Athabasca District, Canada, Fall, 1822
“…a petty post erected on the north bank of the river, and so completely embossomed in the woods, that we did not catch a glimpse of it until we were among huts, and surrounded by howling dogs and screeching children. At this sylvan retreat there were but three rude houses…and there was not a picket or palisade to guard them from either savage or bear. This mean abode was dignified with the name of fort.” (HBC Fort Assiniboine, 1825, Alexander Ross)
The Hudson’s Bay Company’s McLeod Fort (c.1879), constructed in the interior of British Columbia. The words, ‘Fort Misery’ was clearly written over the front door of this fort building (bottom right photograph). Many of these forts were not exactly what people today envision a fort should look like.
They landed their canoes on the banks of the Peace River in front of Fort Vermilion. Jacobs looked up the bank searching for any signs of a fort. His back was killing him. His ass was numb from sitting endless hours in the large freight canoe.
“Well Lafleur, where is it? The fort?”
“Just up the bank, Sir.” Again Jacobs looked frantically for the fort. He stood to get a better look and then tried to get out of the freight canoe. He almost fell face first into the Peace River, only to be rescued just in time by one of the French Canadians. Someone smacked him on the back as he scrambled up the muddy, steeply sloped bank.
“Welcome to Fort Vermilion, Sir. One of the mightiest forts on the Peace River. Actually, one of the few forts on the river. Isn’t she a sight to behold.”
Jacobs, now standing on the top of the bank, simply stared. There before him stood a few crude log shanties, surrounded by a solid wood picket fence of some sort. About the height of a man. These were certainly not fort walls. With no bastions or blockhouses. No galleries. No cannons. Suddenly a pack of barking dogs and screaming children ran by nearly knocking him over. Going where? He didn’t know.
“You call this a fort, LaFleur? Christ, you’re joking? This is the servants’ quarters, right? Where’s the real fort?” He looked imploringly at LaFleur. Hoping that the man was only pulling his leg.
“No Sir. This is it. This is where you’ll be living until next spring. Isn’t it lovely. Cozy even. Wouldn’t you think. I’m sure a little below a man of your stature, Sir Jacobs. But it works well, when the temperatures drop to minus forty below Fahrenheit.”
Jacobs looked at LaFleur incredulously. “Forty below Fahrenheit? You’re kidding me my friend, right?”
“No. No joke. The temperature, she drop low in this country, in the winter. Keeps everything frozen and fresh. I saw once where the mercury, she disappear in the bottom of the thermometer.” He chuckled as if this was some kind of joke.
Jacobs simply stared at the French Canadian. This entire trip had been one big nightmare since he left England. First he puked his guts out coming over the Atlantic Ocean to York Factory, in that rolling Company tub called a ‘ship’. Then, sitting in a canoe for endless miles. Traveling up the rivers and lakes, swatting swarms of mosquitoes so thick you could hit them with a paddle, and knock hundreds out of the air with one stroke. What the fuck was he doing out here anyway? In this god-forsaken wilderness.
“Come. I show you to your living quarters. Only about five below zero in there in the winter. Cozy. Near the fire, it’s much better. Your feet thaw, and you’re ass freezes. But if you turn often enough, it’s quite nice. Don’t fall asleep though. Either your ass or mouth will freeze shut.” At this bit of humor, after he looked at the expression on Jacobs’ face, he broke out in fits of laughter.
“Hé, Henry, ce nouveau est sur le point de vivre le temps de sa vie. (Heh, Henry, this new one is about to experience the time of his life.)” The two men roared with laughter, leaving a poor Sir Jacobs perplexed, scared and clearly shaken. Then they grabbed his belongings and took him to his quarters. After seeing them he was even more shaken.
……………………….
April 6th, 1822. “The advantages of this place are very few over any other except it is that ground is tilled for our gardens and being a critical place for the Natives to bring their find.” (HBCA B.224/e/1)
April 7th, 1822. “The disadvantages rise from the exhausted state of the country in larger animals which renders it very difficult to procure fresh meat upon which the people of the establishments have been hitherto chiefly fed.” (Report of the establishment of For Vermilion (Peace River) Athabasca Department, 1822/23 by Colin Campbell) (HBCA B.224/e/1)
Trader, Colin Campbell and his family sat around the supper table and watched their new guest as he stared at the food on his plate. Sir Jacobs, it seemed, was somewhat reluctant to tuck in and eat his meal.
“If you don’t mind me asking Mr. Campbell, what exactly is this on my plate?” Jacobs kept eyeing his meat. Poking it with his fork but not quite ready to give it a go. Wondering if it might jump off his plate.
“Well, you’re in for a treat tonight, Jacobs. Potatoes and turnips from the gardens. And one of the hunters brought in a lynx. That’s lynx meat. The finest there ever was.” Campbell waited expectantly as Jacobs took a fork full. Finally, putting it slowly in his mouth. Wincing as he did so.
Suddenly he beamed. Surprised. “Why it’s quite good, Campbell. Very delicate and a fine flavor. I never would have thought a member of the cat family could taste this good. How did you come upon it, if I may ask?” He looked expectantly at his host for an answer.
“Natives, Sir Jacobs. They know what’s good to eat and what’s not. If we didn’t have them around, we’d be lost.” Jacobs simply nodded making a mental note.
Jacobs, quite intrigued by his host’s last comment, wanted to know more. “Surely Campbell, you and your men can hunt. No need to hire these savages to hunt for you? Is there?”
Campbell, after stuffing another potato in his mouth, looked at his guest. Thinking. Well can’t blame him for thinking like that. I was no better when I first came out. Wait. Until it gets really tough. Then he’ll realize what I’m talking about.
Campbell responded with a more leveled answer to Jacobs’ question. “Hunting in this land is very hard, especially in the winter. The wild game has been almost decimated over the many years from feeding our people. If you don’t know what you’re doing out there, you could die hunting.”
“And that lynx, Sir Jacob. That you’re eating. I’ll bet you won’t even see one, let alone get a shot at it, before you leave next spring. They’re extremely cagey and hard to trap, let alone shoot.”
Campbell’s Metis wife, Elizabeth, looked up at at her husband, then at Jacobs, wondering why this man was even here. Elizabeth recognized arrogance when she saw it. And this man, Jacobs, absolutely dripped of it. But she didn’t say anything, keeping her peace. It was not what you said about the north to convince someone. It’s what the land did to you when you lived in it, that did the talking. It touched your very soul. Your very being. Occasionally letting you know that your life hung on a thread. He would soon come to realize these things.
…………………….
Hard Times Ahead, November, 1822
“So, Roy, how’s the harvest looking? How are our meat supplies holding up?”
Roy stirred and fidgeted not wanting to really answer his superior’s question. Because he might not like what he was about to hear. Finally, after Colin Campbell wouldn’t stop gazing at him, he reluctantly spoke up.
“We’ve had a bad harvest, Sir. The potatoes got an early frost and yielded little. The wheat, oats and barely were almost totally destroyed by locusts. We have little grist to feed our mill, to make flour for bannock. The game animals, what’s left of them, this year are poor, because of a hard winter last year. Sir, I don’t know if we’ll make it to spring. Unless the wild game picks up or we send our hunters further out. If the fisheries work this winter, maybe there’s a chance.”
“Then trade for more meat with the Natives.”
“Sir. They’re no better off than we are. Just barely able to make it themselves. I’m afraid this winter could be a bad one. We must ration carefully, and with any luck, we might survive until spring.”
Campbell looked concerned. By now he knew this country well enough. And when it decided to treat you cruelly, you more often then not, paid a high price. It was sometimes like this. The perfect storm. Both the crops and wild game populations failed. And then you prayed. For a miracle. But he realized those, like food, were in also in short supply in northern Canada. It seemed as if God wasn’t listening too well up here. No matter how loud and hard they prayed.
“Is there anything else we can do before winter sets in, Roy?”
Roy only shook his head. Then he hesitated before going on. “The women, Sir. They might be able to help. And a strange thing, Sir. They all left.”
Campbell looked at Roy, a little alarmed, waiting for more information. “Where to Roy? Where in the hell did they go this time of the year? Everything is nearly frozen up.”
“Out to the lakes and marshes behind us, Sir. They set up a camp there. My woman says they will stay there for at least two weeks. Or, until everything freezes up.”
At Roy’s words, Campbell became really alarmed. The women sensed this was going to be a tough winter. Disaster awaited them unless they acted. Now. He didn’t ask Roy any further questions. The women knew what to do when times got tough. If the game animals failed, their flour wouldn’t last until spring. The women knew this too. Maybe that’s why they left.
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It was snowing hard. Campbell came into Jacob’s quarters, quickly slamming the door behind him, trying to keep the freezing cold out, and dusting off the fresh snow from his coat. A fire was blazing in the fireplace and there sat Jacobs with his boots almost in it. Trying to thaw out his frozen toes. He had been out at the hunter’s tents and had just come back. He was exhausted and incredibly cold. It was one of those stormy late December evenings. Everything outside snapped and crackled it was so cold.
Campbell looked at Jacobs’ feet. “Christ, Jacobs. You can’t be wearing those stupid leather boots this time of year. You’ll freeze your toes off, man.”
“I think it’s too late Colin. They might fall off any second now. How can you stand it out in this cold?” Finally the shivering Jacobs got his boots off, but it took some time before he could feel his toes again.
Mary, one of the young Chipewyan women who was looking after Jacobs looked at his toes and then his boots. Bad. Very bad. What a foolish Englishman. They all were when they first came to this country. Trying to look the ‘proper gentlemen’ in those foolish clothes. Who were they trying to impress anyway? The moose?
She looked at Jacobs with concern. “Here Sir. Put these on.” She produced a beautiful pair of moose hide moccasins that nearly reached his knees. They were lined with fur and wool blanket, and double-soled. “These will keep your feet from freezing.”
Jacobs took the moccasins from her and pulled them on. He sighed in relief. Ah, yes. Oh, that felt so good. “Mary, these are wonderful. You made them?”
“Yes, Sir. We make all the clothing for the men and children. Or they would freeze to death in the winter.” Jacobs simply stared at her and then at his new footwear. At the intricate stitching, the beautiful bead work. And, slowly it dawned on him why the women were so necessary at these god-forsaken, ‘colder than anything he ever experienced’, so-called forts.
“And you’ll need these too.” She handed Jacobs a fine wool capote, colorful wool sash, and large fur-lined mittens. And a large fur hat. The next day he walked around outside in his new footwear and clothing feeling quite relieved and a little bit more in control of his northern surroundings.
Later that evening Jacobs dined with trader Colin Campbell and Elizabeth. Now, contented enough with his new, warm clothing.
But the meager amount of food on his plate in front of him worried him.
“Not for me to interfere, Colin, but we seem to be eating less and less as the winter wears on. I think I’ve already lost ten pounds. Is there a problem?”
Campbell, at first reluctant to confide in this English nobleman and Company shareholder, decided he should know what was going on.
“We’re near January Jacobs and already running out of food. The hunters are having a hard time finding game. I haven’t heard any news from the men at the fishery. Our grain and potato supplies are down to almost nothing. Mainly because of the bad harvest. There could be a lot of trouble ahead. Unless we find some wild game soon. As you now know, our hunters are miles away from the fort, but find little.”
When they finished their meal, both men sat in silence, sipping their brandy, letting those rather somber facts slip into reality. The fort’s inhabitants were in deep trouble.
Jacobs looked at Campbell, clearly alarmed. He liked this man. He did everything possible to keep his people safe, healthy and happy. But, a lack of food put everyone on edge. And Jacobs had found out the hard way, while at the hunters’ camp, what hunting was like in the back country. Snow up to your waist in places. Dense forests. And the eternal bitter, bitter cold. It froze your hands instantly when you removed your mittens. The equipment froze up and malfunctioned. And even sometimes the more fragile metal pieces on the muskets broke. The nearest gunsmith was over a thousand miles away.
“Well, can’t you just ask for help, Campbell? Surely others are better off than we are?”
Campbell gazed at Jacobs with only a look that someone drinking would look at a friend, who had just said something foolish. “Jeremy. What help? We are in the middle of fucking-nowhere. The nearest forts are no better off than we are. You can’t just wave your magic wand and make this all better. We could die.”
Jacobs, as only a pompous, pampered nobleman could, responded. “But that’s not possible, Colin. Surely we can buy some help.”
Campbell was about to slap his newly made friend on the side of the head, but stopped short when one his children came into the room, crying.
“Daddy, I’m hungry. Is there something to eat? Please daddy. I need something to eat.” Before she could utter another word Elizabeth swept into the room and scooped her up, carrying her away still screaming about wanting something to eat.
Jacobs looked at Campbell. “Jesus, Colin. What are we going to do? Campbell simply took another sip of his brandy. Hope, he thought. Pray. Maybe there would be some luck with the hunt. Or, maybe just wait for a slow, agonizing death.
Chipewyan moccasins. Lined with fur or Hudson’s Bay Company wool blankets, to keep the cold out. Often beautifully embroidered with colorful glass bead work: “…the only tailors and washer women in the country, and make all the mittens, moccasins, fur caps, deer skin coats, etc., etc., worn in the land. (Explorer Robert Ballantyne, talking about the role of Metis women at the Hudson’s Bay Company forts, 1840)The Hudson’s Bay Company blanket became much more than just a blanket used for sleeping. It furnished First Nations and Metis with a strong, dense, warm material for making the winter clothing needed to survive in Northern Canada. The Canadian Capote became an essential piece of winter clothing. A truly Canadian invention and adaptation. Leggings were also made from wool blankets. Even moccasins were lined with them. The image on the left shows a Chipewyan hunter shooting a wood buffalo (painted by American, Frederick Remington). The image on the right shows a Cree hunter with his winter clothing (painted by Canadian novelist and painter, Arthur Heming).
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Late March, 1823
It was a bright sunny day. Trying to make up for the temperature dropping to minus thirty degrees the night before. Most of the fort people had barely made it this far through the winter. But some of the children and a few adults got sick with the ‘chin cough’ (Whooping Cough) and died. The fort was not a happy place.
The hunters brought in just enough game to keep everyone going. The boys set snares in the forests hoping to catch some of the white hares. Potatoes, grain and dried meat were all expended. Animal fat seemed only like a far-away dream – a long-forgotten commodity. The fishery had failed.
Early spring in the northern forests was the worst time of all. What animals remained were lean and in poor condition. The hunters were sometimes too weak to even hunt them. This was the time of year when everyone suffered the most. Or died.
Times like these called for desperate measures. Colin Campbell gathered his people around him. “Break out the rough hides. Scrape the hair off them and boil them. That’s all we have to eat for a bit.” Before he said any more, Elizabeth and most of the fort women stepped up.
Jacobs, now down to skin and bones, looked on. He feared for his life. He might never see England again. But he was curious. What were the women up to?
Elizabeth spoke up. “Bring some men and follow us to the marshes. We made food supplies there last fall, in case we ran into trouble this spring. It’s time to gather them.”
Jacobs, almost too weak to walk, got up rather wobbly and followed. “I’m coming along Colin. I have to see this. What did they collect?”
“I don’t know Jeremy. We’ll see soon enough.” They followed the women up the river terraces, and into the back country. Trails led in every direction, but the women seemed to know which ones to take to get to their destination.
They finally arrived at a small, shallow lake surrounded by marsh and cattails as far as the eye could see. There beside the shore stood many low tent-like structures made out of poles, covered with bark and snow. Inside hanging on thin poles were rows and rows of cattail rhizomes. Thousands of them. Collected by the women last fall, as the ice set in.
Campbell looked at his wife questionably. “What is this Elizabeth? What are these plants?”
“They’re cattail roots, Colin. They’re well dried and frozen now. When we thaw them, we’ll pound them into flour and make Native bannock.”
Jacobs looked on having a hard time believing what he was seeing. “Elizabeth, you can eat these? They don’t look that good to me. Probably poisonous.”
“Jeremy, don’t be so foolish.” Elizabeth poked him the ribs, almost knocking him over he was so weak.
“These roots are as filling and as nutritious as potatoes. It just takes a lot more work to gather and prepare them. That’s what the women spent two weeks last fall doing up here. Up to their knees in the freezing water pulling cattails. They make a great cake over the fire. Much like bannock.”
“But how do you know this, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth looked at Jacobs as if he were the biggest fool around. Which of course he was when it came to surviving in northern Canada. The other women giggled and broke out babbling in languages he didn’t understand. And then she softened. Like all the Whites in this country, how would he know. A pampered English nobleman would never think of eating cattails.
“We know Jeremy. What to do when times are tough. The women saw this coming last fall. That’s why the Native side of my people survived in this country for thousands of years. Because we learned and we know.”
Jacobs was suddenly jolted into a new reality and only nodded in agreement. Now, after living at this fort, with these people, it all seemed so obvious. Now that he actually lived in the country. Felt its wrath and unforgiving harshness. These women and men, possessing thousands of years of knowledge about the land, were indispensable to the Company.
He also realized, in the great fur trading halls of London, no one really knew what was needed out here. In the future they would have to listen more carefully to Simpson’s recommendations.
That evening, after hauling the cattail rhizomes back to the fort and pounding them into flour, everyone got a few mouthfuls of nutritious food. At least to make it through tomorrow and many more days.
After their meal, Campbell and Jacobs sat, sipping their brandy and smoking their pipes. Both men were somewhat contemplative. No longer so fretful. They would get through the harsh spring. And when the cattails grew again, if there was no other game, there was more food awaiting them if they needed it.
“So, Sir Jacobs. You’re ready to take the spring ice out with the brigades. And eventually back to England. What are your thoughts about the trade and this life?” Campbell had been briefed on why Jacobs had been sent inland.
“My thoughts, my friend, and my memories, will forever linger on this place and their peoples. Especially the women.” Campbell probed no more on the subject. He just knowingly smiled. With that the two men toasted with a another glass of brandy, and talked long into the night about the affairs of the Company.
Canada possesses a wealth of wild edible plants. Some of them growing right under our very noses. Bulrush, or cattail, is one of them.
Hudson’s Bay Headquarters, London, England, 1823
“Let the meeting come to order. I would like to welcome back Sir Jeremy Jacobs from the Colonies. Sir, you have something you want to share with us?”
Sir Jacobs stood, walked over to the Chairman’s table and plopped down a rather hefty report which he had written while on the ship back to England.
“It’s all in there gentlemen. Together with my recommendations regarding the Natives and the women.”
He gazed around the room and looked at the round, plump, well fed faces. And bodies. Some so portly they barely fit into their chairs. He was just beginning to regain some of the weight he had lost in Canada.
Then he picked up a large platter loaded with little flat cakes off the enormous wooden table. They were still steaming, hot off the griddle. “Before I brief you on what’s in the report, gentlemen, help yourselves to my special cakes. What I’m about to tell you will be more meaningful once you’ve tasted these.
End Notes
If you’re ever lost in our vast Canadian wilderness, with nothing to eat, there are many wild plants out there to survive on. If you know what to look for. According to Outdoor Canada, there are over 350 wild edible plants in Canada. Northern Bushcraft lists eight-four edible wild plants in Alberta. And nearly as many in Saskatchewan, Manitoba and the other Canadian provinces.
When I was at Simon Fraser University, we went on a survival field trip, trying our best to live off the land for a few days along the Pacific Coast. Not easy believe me. One of the first books I read before going was by renowned ethnobotanist Nancy J. Turner. In it she listed the edible British Columbia plants that First Nations gathered. An excellent source. Cattail rhizomes were on that list. So, of course, I tried them.
First I pulled the cattails out of the muck. Then I picked off the rhizomes, washed and baked them on low heat to dry them. I pounded, ground them into a kind of flour, added water and made a dough or paste. Once I flattened them out into little cakes, I fried them like bannock. They were quite good. And, I’m still alive. Quite nutritious actually. Very high in carbohydrates. For more information about their nutrient content, go to this page.
Cattail rhizomes (above left) contain a lot of carbohydrates. Cattail pollen (below right) can also be used as a flour and eaten. According to ethnohistoric sources, both the Slave and Chipewyan gathered these plants for food. Be sure to collect them from non-polluted waters.
The role Indigenous women played in the Canadian fur trade cannot be overestimated. Without their work and support, fur trade forts would not have been operational. But the presence and support of First Nations and Metis women, and their children, was a real sore spot with the Hudson’s Bay Company shareholders for many years. Most traders however, just ignored what was considered official Company policy – not to allow women to live at the Company forts. This continued until 1821 when the Company finally officially recognized that the trade couldn’t operate without the help of women.
The cattail bannock story underlines just how important Native traditional knowledge was for the men at these remote inland forts. Many were fresh off the boats from Britain and knew nothing about the Canadian wilderness. It also underlines the sometimes extreme conditions that prevailed at these inland posts. Hunger and starvation in the north, sometimes was just around the corner. Especially as wild game animal populations declined in a region.
While George Simpson was a great organizer and administrator, he was also a notorious womanizer. His numerous liaisons are well documented in the annals of Canadian fur trade history. But he immediately recognized that women played a very critical, important role in the trade and operation of the forts. His bluntness about such matters would have occasionally ruffled some feathers in the London halls among the Hudson’s Bay Company’s shareholders.
Wild rose found throughout Canada. The rose hips were an important source of vitamin C. An essential vitamin to stave off scurvy in the Canadian wilderness.
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.
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.
During most of human history, hominins (that’s us, and all prehistoric humans before us) selected animals, and parts of animals, containing the most fat. Or, the most calories packed into the least amount of meat. For purely survival reasons, before the advent of agriculture and domestication (which did not occur in many parts of the world) the name of the game was to consume the richest foods possible, whenever possible.
“We Eat Everything Except the Manure.”
(Explorer, Peter Fidler, 1801, describing eating wild game, while traveling with the Dene in northern Alberta and the North West Territories, Canada)
Our Present Canadian Diet
FOOD. As Canadians we often take it for granted. For most of us, there’s always something to eat. Just a matter of selecting from the hundreds of different foods and dishes available.
And when it comes to the Canadian diet and the role animal fat plays in it, warning bells go off. BE AWARE. We’re told to eat it in minimal amounts. Because it’s bad for you.
However, for most of human history, that was not always the case. For example, in traditional Inuit diets, approximately 50% of their calories came from fat, 30–35% from protein and 15–20% from carbohydrates. Animal fat also ruled in the Canadian fur trade.
The 18th and 19th Century Canadian Diet
During the eighteenth and most of the nineteenth centuries, in western Canada, a wide variety of wild game animals provided First Nations peoples and Euro-Canadians with most of their calories. In eastern Canada during this time, domestic animals and agriculture had largely replaced wild animals and plants in peoples’ diet.
In western Canada, animal fat was highly desirable and sought after. At the fur trade forts, wild game meat and fat was even doled out according to social class. Ironically, the hard working fort employees who needed it most, received the least amounts.
In 1832, at the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Fort Vermilion, Northern Alberta, for example, Company employees received following meat rations:
Category
Fresh Meat
Dried Meat
Pounded Meat
Grease
Officers Mess(2 people)
2,250 lbs
57 lbs
57 lbs
105 lbs
Officers Families (6 adults)
4,283
159
6
108
Engages (8 people)
7,752
576
576
18
Engages Families (3 adults)
2,612
148
148
4
Note: From the above table, calories derived from animal fat versus animal protein is estimated to be ~4:1
At Fort Vermilion, each officer consumed about 1,125 pounds of fresh meat a year, or approximately three pounds (1.4 kilograms) per day. Each worker consumed 969 pounds per year. This figure does not include the dried and pounded meat, or fat. That’s about three bison per year, folks. Hard to imagine eating that much meat now. Every day.
Other historic references suggest that Company employees ate even more meat than listed above. For us these numbers are truly staggering. But also very difficult to verify:
“The ordinary ration, under these circumstances [no flour or vegetables] at any of the Hudson Bay Company posts is either three large white fish, or three rabbits, or two pounds of pemmican, or three pounds of dried meat, or eight pounds of fresh buffalo meat per day per man.” (Alexander Sutherland, 1888)
Along the Saskatchewan River, where forts had access to the vast herds of Plains Bison, an enormous amount of meat was needed to feed the fort occupants for a year:
“Daily requirements for the fort – approx. 20 men, 11 women, 19 children, 36 train dogs. Of fresh meat – the tongues, bosses, ribs and fore and hind quarters of 3 animals.” (From the journals of Issac Cowie in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, 1867 -74) Total bison/year = 1095.
At the North West Company’s Fort George in Alberta, Clerk Duncan M’Gillivray noted: “…we have finished a Glaciere containing 500 thighs & shoulders for the consumption of April & beginning of May…” (From the journal of Duncan M’Gillivray, at Fort George 1793-94)
Also, First Nations traded huge amounts of meat to this fort:
Article (lbs)
Traded from Indians & C
Supplied the Factory
Expended
Remains
Buffalo Meat
26,230
“
19,673
6,557
Buffalo Fat
2,900
2,500
400
“
Pemmican
7,200
7,200
“
“
And over two hundred years later, this is what the archaeological record at these Fortes des Prairies looks like. Both photographs are from the North West Company Fort George (c.1792-1800), central Alberta. In the top image we found a cellar filled with animal bone. In the bottom image, this line of bone lies along the fort palisade wall. These early Saskatchewan River forts were ‘meat factories’, processing tens of thousands of pounds of meat to make pemmican for the Company canoe brigades. Imagine what this place must have smelled like in the spring and summer months. There are many theories why these forts were abandoned relatively shortly after being built. According to most documents, animal populations were soon decimated near the fort requiring a move. But the ‘Stink Factor’ must have played a role for an early exit as well.
The More Fat, the Better
Fort occupants ate a variety of game animals. Lynx, bear, dog, wolf, porcupine, squirrel, skunk, owls, muskrat, varying hare, raccoons, beaver, elk, caribou, moose and bison. Also a variety of fish (especially whitefish) and waterfowl.
“…a rich, agreeable, and very wholesome fish (whitefish), that never palls the appetite; and is preferable, and other fish of this country…” (from the journals of Sir John Richardson, surgeon and explorer)
“…ducks of various kinds, which having shed their feathers, are easily killed in the numerous lakes and ponds. The larger ducks are generally fat at this season, the young of the year are lean and insipid.” (from the journals of Alexander Henry (the younger), Fort White Earth, Saskatchewan River, central Alberta)
Sometimes the consumption of some rather unorthodox critters got just a little out of hand. Explorer Samuel Hearne describes one such incident: “…the warbles out of the deer’s backs, and the domestic lice, were the only two things I ever saw my companions eat, of which I could not, or did not, partake. I trust I shall not be reckoned over-delicate in my appetite.” (from Samuel Hearne’s diaries)
While it’s hard to imagine eating something like this warble off an animal, hunger often trumps all. As Peter Fidler’s rather blunt words suggest, when people are driven to extremes of hunger they will eat almost anything. And, at some of the northern fur trade posts, near starvation situations occasionally occurred.
“Friday gave the men a parchment skin to eat – a Canadian that came home from the hunting tent informed me that the hunters was all starving as they could kill no cattle [bison].” (HBC trader, Thomas Swain, Mansfield House, 1802, near Fort Vermilion, Alberta)
On the other end of the extreme, Company employees often had considerable choice and selection of wild game. Whenever possible they chose the fattiest animals, and selected the parts of the animal that contained the most fat.
Fatty, and Fat Animals
The large plains and woodland bison provided First Nations and first Euro-Canadians with considerable amounts of meat. A two year old bison weighs approximately 850 pounds, yielding about 300 pounds of usable meat.
Some game animals were fatter during certain times of the year. The flesh of some animals contained more fat than others any time of the year. According to fur trade records, bison tasted best when fat:
“We killed a great many buffalo, which were all in good condition, and feasted…..luxuriously upon the delicate tongues, rich humps, fat roasts, and savory steaks of this noble and excellent species of game….We had found the meat of the poor buffalo the worst diet imaginable, and in fact grew meager and gaunt in the midst of plenty and profusion. But in proportion as they became fat, we grew strong and hearty…” (from S. Phillips 1940:42)
The fat of some animals were considered inferior to others:
“The Red Deer is next in size to the Moose, but it is not equal to it in its delicious flavor, on account of the peculiar quality of the fat, which turns cold so very fast, that a person must eat it the instant that it is taken from the fire, and even then the mouth is sometimes lined with a grease of the consistence of tallow.” (from the journals of Edward Umfreville, trader, 1790)
The Canadian Beaver, economic driver of 18th and 19th century Canada. Valued for both its fur and its meat. Sometimes the fort workers valued its meat far more than its fur.
Not only was the Canadian beaver valued for its fur but also for its flesh, and in particular, its fat. In its prime, beaver meat is composed of over thirty percent fat. The tail, considered a delicacy among fur traders and First Nations, was almost all fat.
“In summer, the beavers are lean, and their fur poor, for which reason they are usually not caught at this time. But in winter they get fat and have thicker fur. Their meat is very palatable. The tails, which are fat all through, are especially regarded as delicacies.” (from the journals of F. A Wislizenus 1839).
“The flesh of the Beaver is much prized by the Indians and Canadian Voyageurs, especially when it is roasted in the skin, after the hair has been singed off. In some districts it requires all the influence of the Fur Trader to restrain the hunters from sacrificing a considerable quantity of beaver fur every year to secure the enjoyment of this luxury…” (from the journals of James Richardson 1819)
At many of the northern Peace River fur trade sites, beaver bones were the most common. Such as this beaver pelvis and ulna found near the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) site. And and most of this bone shows knife marks from butchering, not skinning. This evidence, and its occurrence with other domestic household refuse, suggests consumption of the highly sought after meat.
(Now that I look closely at this photograph I see the Canadian nickel used for scale. And the beaver on it. Believe me, this was not intentional. But fitting, I guess. Couldn’t find a loonie.)
Not only were certain animals with high fat content selected for, but the parts of the animal, such as bone marrow, tongues, nose, some organs, and the fattest portions on the carcass (hump of the buffalo, rib meat, etc.) were also preferred.
Moose nose, or ‘muffle’. A great Canadian delicacy. Image courtesy of Four Pounds Flour. For a great read, go to this post and read all about preparation of this dish. And the historic quotes about its delicacy and flavor.
Other parts of the animal, now rarely eaten, often were very high in fat content:
“…and, oh shade of Eude, the marrow bones!” (author, unknown)
“Marrow was held in such high esteem that the term “marrow” seems to have come to be applied to other parts of the animals which were considered good to eat. As well as the frequently mentioned “marrow bones”, there are references to “marrow ribs”, “marrow fat”, and “marrow guts”…but the marrow guts were eaten by the Blackfoot and by the French Canadian voyageurs, who considered them a treat.” (from Isobella Hurburt 1977:16)
“…rich cow [bison] tongues cooked with buffalo marrow, which had been preserved in the autumn when the animals were fat…” (from the journals of John Palliser, 1853)
Bison tongue was considered a delicacy by First Nations and Canadian fur traders alike. Animal bone marrow contains approximately eighty-five percent fat. It was highly sought after in the fur trade. We find animal long bones that have been spirally fractured (green bone fracture) by a heavy implement to extract the marrow inside. The shaft of this large ungulate femur, found near the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) was deliberately smashed open to extract the marrow inside.
Fort personnel even boiled animal bones to extract every ounce of fat. The evidence? We often find hundreds of thousands of crushed pieces of animal bone at fur trade archaeological sites.
“…bones were also crushed, and all the marrow fat extracted from them. This was done by boiling the bones in sufficient water to cover them, and as the marrow or grease rose to the surface it was carefully skimmed off….This fat was eaten with “pounded meat”, and was also used in making pemmican.” (Amelia M. Paget, 1909, at HBC Fort Qu’appelle in Saskatchewan)
Crushed animal bones from a historic site near Fort Vermilion. Evidence of possible bone boiling for the extraction of grease.
In the words of Paul Kane, one of Canada’s earliest artists, while visiting Fort Edmonton in 1847, Christmas dinner contained many of these dishes:
“At the head, before Mr. Harriot, was a large of boiled buffalo hump; at the foot smoked a boiled buffalo calf. Start not, gentle reader, the calf is very small, and is taken Caesarean operation long before it attains full growth. This, boiled whole, is one of the most esteemed dishes amongst the epicures of the interior. My pleasing was to help a dish of mouffle, or dried moose nose; the gentleman on my left distributed, with graceful impartiality, the white fish, delicately browned in buffalo marrow. The worthy priest helped the buffalo tongue, whilst Mr. Rundell cut up the beaver’s tail. Nor was the other gentleman left unemployed, as all his spare time was occupied in dissecting a roast wild goose….Such was our jolly Christmas dinner at Edmonton; and long will it remain in my memory…”
In Times of Scarcity
At the other end of the spectrum, when times were tough, people would eat other, leaner types of animals, such as varying hare, or greater portions of lean meat containing higher amounts of protein. When humans ingest large amounts of protein or lean meat, and less fat, some severe health issues may occur. This malady is described below by one of Canada’s greatest arctic explorers, Vilhjalmur Stephanson:
“If you are transferred suddenly from a diet normal in fat to one consisting wholly of rabbit you eat bigger and bigger meals for the first few days until at the end of about a week you are eating in pounds three or four times as much as you were at the beginning of the week. By that time you are showing both signs of starvation and of protein poisoning. You eat numerous meals: you feel hungry at the end of each: you are in discomfort through distention of the stomach with much food and you begin to feel a vague restlessness. Diarrhea will start in from a week to 10 days and will no t be relieved unless you secure fat. Death will result after several weeks.” (Vilhjalmur Stephanson, Arctic Explorer)
Protein poisoning is also commonly known as ‘Rabbit Starvation.’ Rabbit, or varying hare, meat is very lean. Fat comprises about six percent of the meat on a domestic rabbit and about two percent on a wild rabbit, or varying hare. In comparison, bison meat contains approximately sixteen percent fat. Explorer, David Thomson, while in Alberta, got sick from eating too much lean fresh meat from very thin game animals in the early spring.
Rabbit starvation is best explained by how much energy humans use to digest and metabolize certain types of macronutrients. Here is the SDA (specific dynamic action), or metabolism of macronutrients:
Carbohydrates = 6%
Fats = 14%
Animal protein = 30%
This may explain why high lean meat diets result in weight loss. But these diets could potentially also be extremely dangerous. Also some studies (the China Study by C. Campbell, 2005) suggest there might be a relationship between high animal protein consumption and high heart disease rates. This study, however, is not without its critics.
The fur trade archaeological record
Whenever we excavate a fur trade site, we collect and identify all animal bone to animal taxa and element whenever possible. We can then reconstruct diet. So, what do the bones we find say about human diet during times of plenty versus times of scarcity? A lot. Here are a few examples:
FORT/NISP (# of Identifiable specimens)
Bison
Moose
Elk
Beaver
Varying Hare
Rocky Mt. Fort (1794 -1804)
181
678
12
748
143
Fort St. John’s (1806 -1823)
313
720
1595
136
639
In the above table, animal bones are listed from two fur trade forts in eastern British Columbia along the Peace River (from Burley et al, 1996). Rocky Mountain Fort was occupied when game animal populations were still very abundant. Fort St. John’s was occupied after nearly thirty years of fur trade activities in the region. When you do the math, at the latter fort, as game animal populations dwindled, the use of varying hare nearly tripled. Why? Fewer large game animals? Or, the cyclical population patterns of varying hare?
Region
% Varying Hare
Lower Peace River Posts
14.2
Upper Peace River Posts
15.7
Fortes des Prairies Posts
2.2
The above table shows the percent of varying hare that made up the faunal assemblages of forts of various regions along the Peace River and along the Saskatchewan River. At the Saskatchewan River posts, large game animals were much more plentiful than at the Peace River posts.And consequently, there was a considerably less amount of varying hare animal bone present in those assemblages.
At Dunvegan, located along the Peace River, north of Grande Prairie, Alberta, for example:
“The men all hunting and fishing, but very unlucky….We are now in a very alarming situation, not having a mouthful to eat. The children are always going about the fort crying for something to eat.” (Dunvegan journals, 1805, one year after the fort was opened)
When the hunters brought in 855 pounds of moose meat in on June 11, 1854, it was, “…welcome enough as we were at our last gasp for Grub.” (Dunvegan journals, 1854)
Animal Grease/Fat Selection
Archaeologists have devised ways to determine whether there is a deliberate selection of those parts of the animal containing the highest amounts of fat. On the Y-axis the anatomical parts of large mammals are ranked according to the amount of fat in that part or anatomical unit(e.g., bison hump). The X-axis represents the relative number of bone elements from each unit (e.g., thoracic vertebrae for the hump of the bison) found in the archaeological record (adjusted for number of elements). If there was a deliberate selection of units with the most grease/fat, then bone elements with the lowest grease/fat content will occur in the lowest numbers and bone elements with the highest grease content would occur in the highest numbers.At Fort George, where dietary stress was almost non-existent and large game was plentiful, there is a relatively good fit in the selection of animal parts containing the largest amounts of grease. Because people had more choice in meat selection, they choose parts of animals with the highest amount of fat, or grease.At Fort Vermilion, northern Alberta, where game animals were often scarce, there was no deliberate selection of only animal units containing high amounts of grease. In other words, nearly every part of the animal was eaten.
How Did This Diet Affect the Health of People in the Fur Trade?
Well, that’s the interesting question, isn’t it. What does a diet in high meat protein and fat do to you over your lifetime? Currently, according to everything we’re told by experts, it could shorten your lifespan. Or causes other major health issues.
But these statements seem to fly in the face of other evidence in our human history. Humans for hundreds of thousands of years, when given a choice, selected meats with the highest fat content. And what about those Inuit? Reportedly very healthy before they started eating a North American diet.
I’ll try to answer that question in my next post. Read about the interesting approach I took to answer it with the available fur trade data.
And no, I am not secretly working for any Canadian bacon brands. Maybe they’ll approach me with advertising when they see this post. Not even promoting a greater use of fat in the Canadian diet.
A Few Key References
Pyszczyk, Heinz W. 2015. The Last Fort Standing. Fort Vermilion and the Peace River Fur Trade, 1798 – 1830. Occasional Papers of the Archaeological Society of Alberta. Number 14, April 2015. (In particular, Chapter 7 discusses the faunal remains found at the site in detail).
Hurlburt, Isobella. 1977. Faunal Remains from Fort White Earth N.W.Co. (1810-1813). Human History Occasional Paper No. 1. Provincial Museum of Alberta. Alberta Culture, Edmonton.
Brink, John W. 2001. Carcass Utility Inidces and Bison Bones from the Wardell Kill and Butchering Sites. In People and Wildlife in North America. S. Craig Gerlach and Maribeth S. Murray (eds), pp. 235-273. BAR International Series 944. (Jack Brink, formerly at the Royal Alberta Museum, has done extensive research on animal fats and their use by Plains First Nations in western Canada and the United States.)
Burley, David V. 1996. Prophecy of the Swan. The Upper Peace River Fur Trade of 1794 – 1823. UBC Press, Vancouver.
By current estimates, there were over three-hundred fur trade posts built in Alberta alone (there are many more in the other prairie provinces). The location of over fifty-percent of the Alberta posts is unknown. Many, like the legendary Fort La Jonquierre, built in 1751, remain a mystery. Even for the folks (that’s all of us) at Wikipedia. Here’s what I know about this mysterious French fort (parts of which are remarkably similar in the Wiki version). If it was real, and had continued as a western settlement, it might have changed the course of western Canadian history.
This enigmatic fur trade post was once on my archaeological ‘bucket list‘. Long rumored to exist, but never searched for, it has baffled historians and archaeologists for over a century. For more details, you can read my online article in the Alberta Archaeological Review. Here is a slightly shorter version of my research.
Early 18th Century Exploration of Western Canada
The struggle for control of the western fur trade, and search for a route to the Pacific Ocean, between the French and English periodically ended with the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713. Soon after, however, the French again pursued their dream – to be the first to find an inland route to the Pacific Ocean. They began to establish Postes de la Mer de l’ouest west (posts of the western Sea) to search for that route. They were ambitious, unlike their British counterparts who, as one trader later wrote, were “…content to remain asleep by the frozen sea (Hudson Bay).“
There was one major obstacle in this noble undertaking: No one really knew where exactly they were heading. Even by the 1740s, the Pacific Ocean was a mere blur, somewhere thousands of miles west, as the best available maps of the period show.
An 1740s map of the interior of western Canada and the Pacific Ocean drawn by the French Canadian Metis, Joseph La France for the Governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company, Arthur Dobbs. Not only was distance and major geographic features of the Canadian west inaccurate, no one knew which river or pass led to the Pacific Ocean from the east side of the Rocky Mountains.
Most of La France’s information, and that of other French explorers such as Pierre Gualtier de La Verendrye, was collected from First Nations’ accounts of routes to the Pacific Ocean:
“It was there [forks of the Saskatchewan Rivers] that he [La Verendrye’s son] was in the spring at the meeting of all the Cree, and where he inquired minutely, according to his father’s orders, where the source of this great river was. They all replied with one voice that it came from very far, from a height of land where there were very lofty mountains; that they knew of a great lake on the other side of the mountains, the water of which was undrinkable.” (a French memoir, in Dugas 1905:487: brackets mine)
[Note: One historian thinks that the ‘lofty mountains’ in this account was the Missouri Coteau, and the great lake was Chaplin Lake (very salty), Saskatchewan. Even that chain of hills between Moose Jaw and Swift Current, is hardly ‘lofty’. And Chaplin Lake was not really that big.]
The Mysterious Fort La Jonquierre
In order to reach the Pacific, the French wanted to build a line of forts along the Saskatchewan River, including one at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. This was no easy undertaking. However, by 1751 they had established a fort (La Corne) at the forks of the Saskatchewan Rivers. According to Legardeur de St. Pierre, one of La Verendrye’s successors:
“I promised to all the tribes that M. de Niverville would go and create an establishment nine hundred miles farther up than that on the Paskoyac. I agreed with all the tribes that they should unite with me at that new trading post.” (from Dugas 1905:96)
Paskoyac refers to the present day The Pas, Manitoba, located along the Saskatchewan River. St. Pierre’s statement provides a distance and possible geographical landmark for the fort. And later St. Pierre wrote again:
“…was executed on 29th May, 1751. He sent off ten men in two canoes, who ascended the river Paskoya [Saskatchewan] as far as the Rocky Mountains, where they made a good fort, which I named Fort la Jonquierre….“
This quote refers to a slightly better landmark. The Saskatchewan River, or one of its forks (either the North Saskatchewan, the Bow River, or even the Red Deer River). But, even if we believe these entries (and I personally do), would there be any archaeological remains left? What exactly did they build? St. Pierre later wrote about La Jonquierre:
“…met with a nation loaded with beaver, who were going by a river which issues from the Rocky Mountains, to trade with the French, who had their first establishment on an island at a small distance from the land, where there is a large storehouse…”
Then in 1757, Louis-Antoine De Bougainville wrote: “The posts of the Western Sea includes St. Pierre, St. Charles, Bourbon, De la Rheine, Dauphin, Posakoiac and Des Prairies [De la Jonquierre?], all of which are built with palisades that can give protection only against the Indians.” The Des Prairies forts could also refer to St. Louis and La Corne. So, this reference is somewhat dubious.
An old voyageur told Abbe Dugas in early 1900s that the fort was located above Calgary, on the Bow River. He claimed that when First Nations people passed the spot, they cast a stone on it, and, “….in truth there is a heap of stone there.” However, what exactly that heap of stone represented is anyone’s guess. Perhaps a fireplace from the fort but other options exist (burial, later fur trade post, farmer’s field rock collection, etc.).
The location and physical evidence of a fort would then consist of the following: 1) located near the foot of the Rocky mountains, on an island in a river (either Bow, Red Deer, or North Saskatchewan); 2) containing at least one building (perhaps with a cellar) and a possible palisade; and, 3) artifacts that represented the time period in question. Assuming the original location was undisturbed (and not swept away by the river), the archaeological record would consist of: 1) building wood foundation logs and maybe a cellar depression; 2) a palisade footer trench; and, 3) 18th century artifacts (hopefully a few with a short manufacturing period).
The map below shows roughly where nine-hundred miles west from Paskoyac places you on those rivers. The problem however, is that there are many islands on these rivers, as a piece of the Bow River above Calgary shows (below).
Approximate position of La Jonquierre on major rivers leading into the Rocky Mountains. This estimate would have had to be very general. Distance west (longitude) was very hard to accurately measure. And estimating distance along winding rivers, in varying currents, was even more difficult. A section of the Bow River, above Calgary, Alberta. There are many islands in the Bow River. The problem is compounded because former islands are now part of the mainland and others simply eroded over time. Even if we could narrow the spot down to a few islands, finding those sparse fort physical features would still be very difficult (more on searching methods in a future article).
Here’s what a fort palisade footer trench and cellar depression would look like:
Palisade footer trenches and corner bastion, NWC Fort George (c.1792-1800). The trench, or ditch, was sometimes up to a metre deep, depending on the height of the palisade. It leaves a very visible footprint on and in the ground, even when the ground is disturbed (i.e., cultivated). At inland fur trade sites the palisade pales (vertical posts) are still preserved after remaining in the ground for over two-hundred years. I have walked along still visible (on the ground surface) fort palisade footer trench depressions, over two-hundred years old, in the dense undergrowth along the Peace River.This large cellar depression at the NWC/HBC Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) is still nearly two metres deep, even after many flooding episodes of the lower terrace of the Peace River.
There are Skeptics
Not everyone agrees that the French built a fort this high on the Saskatchewan River, for various reasons: 1) questionable documents; neither St. Pierre or De Bougainville ever saw the fort; they just wrote about it; 2) traveling from The Pas, Manitoba, at ice-breakup on the Saskatchewan River to the Rocky Mountains, by the 29th of May was questionable; and, 3) no physical evidence of the fort was ever found. I won’t go into detail about these arguments, or counter-arguments. If interested, you can read more in my 2000 article.
Some Final Thoughts
I’m fairly convinced that Fort La Jonquierre existed and its remains, if not destroyed, lie somewhere in Alberta. No one has ever seriously looked for the fort, so the argument about the lack of physical evidence just doesn’t cut it.
If I were to ever look, I would start above Calgary and check all the major islands in the Bow River. Both on the ground and with Lidar (Light Detection and Ranging) Imagery.
It’s interesting to think that if the fort had been built near Calgary, Alberta, and the French had prevailed before withdrawing from the west again after the Seven Years War (1756 – 1763), Calgary may have been named La Jonquierre.
“And the La Jonquierre Flammes win the Stanley Cup….”
On a final, somewhat more serious note, when I worked for the Government of Alberta, one of our branch mandates was to protect and manage our archaeological resources. That’s not easy to do if you don’t know where they are. The sometimes frustrating thing about historical archaeology, is that often there is an accompanying documentary record that suggests forts or other settlements existed. We just can’t find them. And the reason why? The physical obstacles are formidable when we search for these places.
In future blogs, I’ll give you some examples of just how tough it is to find a fort site after two-hundred years, and describe some new noninvasive methods we use to help make the task a little easier.
References Cited:
Bougainville, Louis-Antoine de. 1908. Memoir of Bougainville: 1757. In The French Regime in Wisconsin, edited by Reuban G. Thwaites, pp. 167-195. Wisconsin Historical Collections.
Dugas, Abbe. 1905. The Canadian West. Librairie Beauchemin, Montreal.
Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, Jacques Repeniguy. 1887. Memoir of Summary Journal of the Expedition of Jacques Repeniguy Legardeur de Saint-Pierre Charged with the Discovery of the Western Sea. In Report on Canadian Archives, 1886. Note C., pp.xiviii-clxix.
Canadians, for the most part, used wood as the material of choice to build their homes. For hundreds of years. The construction methods however, have changed over that period of time. And when we go back to the 17th and 18th centuries, some of the methods seem foreign to us today. Here is a brief chronological rundown (starting with the most recent) of those building construction methods, ending with some very unique ones I have seen in Alberta.
I’ll quickly summarize the modern techniques which are elaborated on elsewhere. Also, J. Gottfred has extensively covered log building construction techniques, and I (Pyszczyk, 1992) have also written extensively on western Canadian log construction techniques (more from an archaeological perspective).
Depending on where you live, current stud frame house construction started sometime in the early 20th century. Here uniformly cut 2″ x 4″ or 2″ x 6″ ‘studs’, 8′ – 10′ long were used to build the building frame. The studs for walls only extended one storey, and then the entire process was repeated at the 2nd and 3rd stories. Wall infill consisted of various materials to insulate the building. The interior and exterior was then clad with a variety of materials. This construction technique uses large quantities of nails or screws to join everything together.
Balloon Frame Building Construction
Said to date from the 1830’s – 1930s in the US, the balloon frame house shown in this photograph differs mainly from the stud frame house by the length of the studs which extend all the way to the roof line in the former (even in a second or third storey building). As with modern stud framing, infill and cladding consisted of various materials, and everything hung together with nails. Some people think the ‘balloon’ description for this building method originated from its skeptics believing it would blow away in a severe wind, like a balloon. (Courtesy of Scott Sidler)
The Old Bay House, Fort Vermilion, Alberta, shown on the front page of my web site, constructed in c.1908, is a balloon frame building. One of the oldest in Alberta. I’d be guessing if I tried dating this method in various parts of Canada (if any of you have more information on this method in Canada, I’d love to hear from you). It likely first appears in areas having access to standardized milled lumber.
Inside of the Old Bay House, Fort Vermilion, Alberta, showing wood interior wall and ceiling cladding.
Massed Log Building Construction
This technique consists of laying a series of horizontal logs on top of one another and connecting them with various types of notching on the corners of the building. It has various names and origins, and appears at different times in different parts of Canada. The French called it “pièce sur pièce” (piece on piece) construction. The cracks between the logs were chinked and the interior walls were sometimes mudded (more on that later). The technique is ‘wood heavy’, requiring large, long, straight logs, which are left rounded or squared. Few nails are used in this technique; logs are joined by wooden dowels at intervals along the wall.
The dovetail corner notching method is one of the most elaborate techniques found in western Canada (shown below). The angled joints in this method don’t require overhang (as in a saddle notched corner) and prevent the corners from coming apart. There are many good examples in Alberta, but some of the best I have seen come from the central and northern parts of the province.
This somewhat unique log building, at Carcajou, Alberta, has dovetail corner notching and logs only squared near the corners; the rest are left round. Carcajou was one of the earliest Metis settlements in Alberta, already shown on David Thompson’s 1826 map, as ‘Wolverine Point‘. In this community, this technique might have had a French Canadian influence. This building dates to the late 19th – early 20th century.This log building, constructed in 1987 by the Hudson’s Bay Company, at Carcajou, Alberta, also has dovetail corner notching. The ethnic origins of its builder are unknown. The Company at this time hired people with different ethnic backgrounds, including French Canadians.Close up view of the Carcajou HBC log building showing a series of round auger marks in the logs. The marks were used to number the logs, suggesting that this building had been dismantled and repaired, or dismantled and moved.
Massed log corner notching construction technique, probably the most familiar to many people, is also difficult to date in Canada. In some parts of the country it likely goes back as far as the beginnings of basic log construction, with a simple saddle notched log cabin at the lake or woods. And being built as recently as the last decade. In Alberta, the earliest dated example of dovetail notching is the clerk’s quarters at Dunvegan (c.1878 – present-day). The first Ukrainian immigrants (late 19th century) in Alberta used the dovetail notching method as well. Here are a few more examples of this technique. Assigning any definitive ethnic affiliation to these methods is problematic. There are likely many.
Top Left Photograph: The clerk’s quarter, Hudson’s Bay Company, Dunvegan, Alberta (c.1878 – present).
Bottom Right Photograph: A close-up view of the clerk’s quarters building corner showing the elaborate dovetail corner notching.Old cabin, near Buck Lake, Alberta. Massed log saddle notching construction technique. Date unknown.
Red River Frame/Post-and-Plank
Also referred to as poteaux et pièce coulissante (posts and sliding piece), Gottfred suggests this method was adapted in New France from the French method of plankwall framing. In the much colder Canadian winter, logs replaced planks. In this method upright logs were grooved (mortised) and set along the building walls and corners at intervals, and then horizontal logs filled in the rest of the wall by carving tenons on the ends which fit into the uprights (Tongue and groove, mortise and tenon). The technique uses shorter (than massed log construction) infill logs between the vertical uprights. It uses few nails. Instead wood dowels along the walls and corners kept everything together.
I have seen two types of log wall framing methods in western Canada: 1) Post-on-sill; and, 2) Post-in-ground (see schematic diagram below). Post-on-sill was used after c.1830 by the Hudson’s Bay Company at many of its inland forts. Post-in-ground is an earlier form of framed log construction, going back to the 1780s in Alberta, and probably much earlier at the Saskatchewan and Manitoba fur trade posts. With this method the vertical posts are set in pits in the ground. At the turn of the 19th century we also see combinations of the two methods, such as at the HBC Nottingham House in northern Alberta. However this method should not be confused with the true post-in-ground (Poteaux-en-terre) method used earlier in French Canada (discussed later).
Pretend you are looking at a vertical wall and a cut-away of the ground in this image. These were the two most common log framed construction techniques for the various fur trade companies in western Canada. Archaeologically, the post-in-ground method is easy to identify because of the large pits dug to place the posts in, up to a metre deep in the ground. For some reason this method was abandoned in favor of the post-on-sill method, which eventually gave way to the massed dovetail log construction method. All of the excavated buildings at the North West Company Fort George (c1792-1800), Alberta, were constructed using the post-in-ground method. In this photograph we exposed a vertical wood post in a pit with horizontal wood sills (foundation logs) butting up to it (likely tenoned into it). This scaled drawing of a building wall found at the North West Company, Boyer’s Fort (c.1788-1792) shows a vertical post in a pit with the building sills (base logs) butting up to it Excavations of the main house, at the HBC Buckingham House site, northern Alberta, showing some post pits holding the vertical posts of building walls, and the corner posts sitting on sills. Courtesy Karlis Karklins, Parks Canada. One of the large warehouses at the c.1830 – 1915 HBC Fort Edmonton, Alberta being dismantled. A good example of post-on-sill-construction where the squared horizontal infill logs were inserted into the grooved vertical logs along the wall of the building. A large vertical timber is laying in the foreground of this c.1915 photograph. With this method the entire building could be taken apart and repaired, or moved and built elsewhere with relative ease. This particular fort building was built in the c.1860s when the fort expanded. When traveling, I’m always on the lookout for log buildings. A large barn structure, New South Wales, Australia. A kind of post-in-ground framed log construction technique without the bottom logs. Adapted for either better ventilation, or flooding, for which parts of Australia are notorious.
Original Post-in-Ground (Poteaux-en-terre) and Post-on-Sill (Poteaux-sur-sol) Construction
Unfortunately, there is some confusion with all these similar architectural terms. The original 17th century French versions of Post-in-Ground and Post-on-sill log construction refer to entirely different log construction method. In this method the logs for the entire wall are all placed vertically, either in a trench in the ground, or sat on a horizontal foundation log (sill), or stones. The spaces between them were filled with stone, bricks and mud. As the images below show, they have a very distinct archaeological imprint making them readily recognizable.
Post-on-sill vertical log wall construction. An early French Canadian method where cracks between the vertical walls are filled with stones, bricks, plaster or mud. Courtesy: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing_of_Poteaux-en-Terre_in_the_Beauvais_House_in_Ste_Genevieve_MO.pngImage of a rowhouse, Fort Michilimackinac (c.1715 -30). Vertical wood wall posts would either sit on a sill or in a trench in the ground. (from Stone, 1974) French House (c.1720-30), Fort Michilimackinac (from Stone, 1974). This small French house at the fort was definitely French post-in-ground construction. The archaeological evidence would reveal vertical post remains standing side-by-side in a trench. We searched for this building construction method in western Canada, but to no avail. Even though many of the early forts were likely constructed by French Canadians. I thought I had found a vertical building wall at the 1798 NWC LaFleur’s post in the Peace River Region. Later I realized that a new building had been constructed over a former old palisade wall which would have had similar vertical posts sitting in a trench.
The post-in-ground method originated in France, possibly the Normandy area. Here vertical posts for the wall were placed in the ground, and filled in between with either brick or stones. In the much colder climates of Canada the entire wall was made of vertical wood and covered by mud or plaster to prevent drafts and heat loss (from Russell Versaci, 2008)
Mud, the Plaster of Yesterday
Whenever I lecture on log construction techniques, I emphasize the importance of mud, or some mud/clay mixture, during construction. Many of the 18th – 19th century framed log buildings we excavated in Alberta used a mixture of mud/clay/straw to chink the outside walls. Sometimes entire the interior building walls were completely mudded. Also stone fireplaces and chimneys were covered with mud as well. I think the mud was not only used to prevent drafts from coming through the cracks between the logs, but when the interior walls or fireplace was mudded (as much as two inches thick) the mud worked as a heat sink absorbing the heat from the fire and retaining it in the mud walls.
Mud outer wall chinking on this building from Carcajou, Alberta. A branch or sapling was inserted into the crack (because it was large) and then the entire area filled with mud.
The importance of good mud or clay for this type of log building construction cannot be overstated: “I arrived at the entrance of Riviere Original…I brought the goods,however, to a large point on the south-east of the lake, and wrought two or three days at felling trees, but, to my great mortification we then discovered there was no clay to be found within five leagues of us.” (Angus Shaw, NWC, 1789, near Moose Lake, Alberta)
Top Left Photograph: A schematic drawing of the willow lathe framework placed diagonally over the log inside walls of Angus Shaw’s big house at the NWC Fort George (c.1792-1800).
Lower Right Photograph: Fired mud chinking and wall suggesting that the building burned down. And by doing so the mud became fired and hard as brick. The impressions in the fired mud told us whether the wall logs were squared or rounded and if lathing had been placed on them. I have seen cut lathing on the inside walls of early 20th century Ukrainian houses in Alberta, to keep the mud in place. (Images from Kidd, 1970)Top Left Photograph: Still standing (at least in the early 20th century) stone and mud fireplace, Fort Reliance, NWT. Similar fireplaces were built at other 18th-19th century fur trade posts. The chimney is made of logs and sticks, covered in mud. A similar fireplace chimney was noted in some fur trade journals: “…fixed Poles to the chimney of Mr. McLeod’s upper Room in order to heighten it.” (Daily Transactions, Fort Dunvegan, Alberta).
Bottom Right Photograph: A single stone fireplace at the NWC Fort George, Alberta (now on display at the Royal Alberta Museum). After being abandoned the mud from the fireplace and chimney oozed over the charred floor remains, preserving them perfectly.
Not Everything was Wood
I’ll end this post with one of the most unusual houses I have ever set my eyes on in Alberta. ‘Soddies’ were a common form of building construction on the Canadian prairies where wood was rare. But in central Alberta? Below is a still-standing (I hope) sod and wood framed house in east central Alberta. A truly unique and rather unorthodox home.
This wood framed house, with sod infill for walls, was built in east-central Alberta. Perhaps one of the most unique houses I have ever seen. According to Government of Alberta files: 1907 – Homestead filed and smaller sod house built; 1910 – House built; 1911 – Exterior plastered with lime and sand, and interior finished with Beaverboard; 1950 – last occupied. (Photographs and information Courtesy of Historic Sites Service, Government of Alberta) A close-up view of the sod infill used to fashion the walls of this house. The sod was then covered with plaster and beaverboard. Unfortunately, this exposed part of the wall now makes for a great nesting area for barn swallows. As with straw bale wall construction, the trick here is to completely seal the wall to prevent rodents or other critters from getting in. (Photographs and information Courtesy of Historic Sites Service, Government of Alberta)
What is ‘Canadian‘?
As Canadians we have a long tradition of building our homes with wood. And we continue to do so. For example, in 2019 there were a total of 187,177 houses built in Canada, and I would think most of them were wood framed structures.
Some of the Canadian wood building methods used over the centuries occur in other places in North America and the world. Assigning specific dates, or origin, or builder ethnic affiliation, is risky and cannot always be generalized. The examples I give here are mostly from western Canada, and dates, ethnic affiliation or construction methods, will vary elsewhere in the country and continent.
But, there are some Canadian wood building methods that were adapted from Europe to deal with our often harsh Canadian environment, peoples’ specific needs, or their economies. They are truly our own. They are Canadian.
References
Kidd, Robert, 1970. Archeological Excavations at the Probable Site of the First Fort Edmonton or Fort Augustus, 1795 to Early 1800’s”. Provincial Museum of Alberta Human History Occasional Paper No. 3. Alberta Culture and Multiculturalism Historical Resources Division, 1987.
Pyszczyk, Heinz, 1992. The Architecture of the Western Canadian Fur Trade: A Cultural-Historical Perspective. Society for the Study of Architecture in Canada, 17(2):32-41.
Stone, Lyle M., 1974. Fort Michilimackinac, 1715-1781. An Archaeological Perspective on the Revolutionary Frontier. Publications of the Museum Michigan State University.
Versaci, Russell, 2008. Roots of Home. Our Journey to a New Old House. The Taunton Press.
Tobacco was an integral part of the Canadian fur trade. It was smoked, chewed and snuffed. It was traded and gifted to Indigenous peoples, and consumed by both men and women. One of the most common ways of smoking tobacco was with a clay tobacco pipe. However, not all pipes were made of clay. This is a story of one of the most interesting and unusual types of tobacco pipes I have run across – a stone tobacco pipe.
Metis dog driver, Lac La Biche, Alberta, smoking a clay tobacco pipe. (Arthur Heming sketch, courtesy of Glenbow Archives)
Clay Tobacco Pipes
Whenever we excavate at the inland fur trade posts in Canada, one of the most common artifacts we recover are clay tobacco pipe fragments. These pipes are the remnants of smoking activities at these posts. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes. At the end of the 18th century the stem on some of these pipes, known as Churchwardens, was nearly three feet long. Only the upper classes smoked them while the laborers smoked the shorter stemmed cuttie.
Man smoking the excessively long-stemmed churchwarden tobacco pipe.
These two clay tobacco pipes were recovered from the c.1830 – 1917 Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Edmonton. Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. The pipes were made from ball clay and mostly manufactured in Europe. While they were relatively cheap, they were also quite fragile.
Many of the 18th and 19th century clay tobacco pipes shipped to the inland posts, were made in Europe. The Hudson’s Bay Company imported most of their pipes from England. Many of the pipe bowls and stems were stamped sometimes with the maker’s name or initials. It wasn’t until the latter half of the 19th century that a Canadian clay pipe industry took hold in eastern Canada. Bannerman of Montreal clay pipes were shipped to the Alberta fur trade posts.
These tobacco pipe fragments came from the Northwest/Hudson’s Bay Company Fort Vermilion (c.1798-1830) site. This pipe bowl has the letters ‘TD’ stamped on it. It refers to Thomas Dormer, a pipe maker in England during the late 18th – early 19th centuries.
Ornate clay tobacco pipe stem fragments with floral designs. In the second half of the 19th century many pipes had very elaborate decorations on them. Some of the bowls even had faces on them. The bottom stem has ‘Baltic’ (origins unknown) stamped on it, probably referring to the manufacturer. These fragments were recovered from the HBC Fort Edmonton (c.1830-1917), Alberta.Hudson’s Bay Company men smoking outside of Fort Edmonton (1871), on what are now the Alberta legislature grounds. The Company inventories list thousands of pounds of tobacco shipped to these inland posts. These men might have been smoking one of the pipes above. (Photograph by Charles Horetzky, Library and Archives of Canada/c-7534)
The Somewhat Puzzling History of Western Canadian Stone Tobacco Pipes
But not all pipes were made of clay. When we excavated the North West Company Fort George (c.1792-1800) site in east-central Alberta we found platform (a type) tobacco pipes made from soapstone, pipestone or local mudstone. They were found in domestic household refuse along with many other common fur trade artifacts (beads, buttons, etc.). These pipes are poorly documented.
This rare, complete mudstone tobacco pipe was found at Fort George, Alberta. The mudstone occurs in round nodules found in the North Saskatchewan Sands and Gravels. We found the mud balls and partially finished pipes in the household refuse at the site.
We often speculated who made and smoked these pipes. They certainly were not European. Or, so we initially thought. And, what were they doing in Alberta, Canada?
Peter Rindisbacher painting, 1821, Red River, showing a First Nations family smoking. The man is smoking a stone elbow pipe. And the woman is smoking what looks like a stone platform pipe similar to the one found at Fort George.
Initially we thought these pipes were made by local Indigenous men or women working at the western Canadian fur trade forts. But there is no record of this kind of pipe being used prior to White contact in Alberta. Only recently I realized that these pipes were similar to Iroquois platform pipes. Iroquois? In Alberta? Well, yes. The Northwest Company brought Iroquois hunters out west to trap furs in the late 18th – early 19th centuries. (The community of ‘Calahoo’, Alberta is named after an Alberta Iroquoian family.)
This image of an Iroquois man smoking tobacco from what looks like a platform stone pipe. Many stone pipe fragments, similar to the Alberta pipes, have been found at St. Lawrence Iroquoian archaeological sites. (photo image courtesy of Marie-Helene Daviau, 2008)
I thought at this point at least we now knew the possible origins of this pipe style. Quite possibly brought west by the Iroquois hunters who lived at the forts. But then, after seeing the image below, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
In this image, taken from the cover of Daviau’s monograph, shows a French Canadian farmer smoking what looks like a stone platform pipe. (Frederick von Germann, 1778) In 1749, Peter Kalm noted the French Canadian woodsmen borrowed this style from the Iroquois of the St. Lawrence River Valley (Daviau 2008:189).
The North West Company hired many French Canadians to work at their inland western Canadian posts. These men made up the famous canoe brigades and worked mostly as laborers at the posts when not paddling. So, it is entirely possible that they brought their stone pipes with them, or fashioned them out of local material at the forts.
We found similar stone pipe fragments at the remote northern Alberta fur trade posts, such as Fort Vermilion, Peace River region. But the peculiar markings on these pipes add a bit of a twist to the story.
This stone tobacco pipe base (the bowl on the top is missing), found at Fort Vermilion, Alberta, is of the platform variety, but with some unusual circle-and-dot markings on it. We are still trying to figure out how these perfectly symmetrical circles were incised into the stone. Possibly by a small auger bit.
Over the years I have noticed artifacts with similar circle-and-dot markings on them in other western Canadian fur trade assemblages. The circle-and-dot motif is an Athabaskan symbol that has a geographical distribution ranging from central Alberta to northwestern Alaska. Was this tobacco pipe style adopted by Athabaskan-speaking people who then put their markings on it? Quite possibly. Interestingly, in Alberta the style seems to disappear by the 1840s.
Bone artifacts from Rocky Mountain House, Jasper House and Dunvegan, showing the circle-and-dot motif. Left to right: Quill smoother; bone fragment; bone flesher.
A Few Final Thoughts
Occasionally archaeologists recover artifacts from a documented period of Canadian history whose origins and uses are puzzling. Not all material culture is well documented. Especially when it belongs to people who aren’t doing any of the documenting. These objects were likely made and used by Indigenous people and/or French Canadian voyageurs (who were mostly illiterate) – a people without a written history. In the case of the stone tobacco pipes, careful dating and geographic location are extremely important to figure out their possible origins and uses.
References
Daviau, Marie-Helen. 2008. La Pipe de pierre dans la societe conadienne des XVII et XIX siecles. Centre interuniversitaire d’etudes sur les letters, les arts et les traditions (CELAT), Quebec.
Heinz W. Pyszczyk. 2015. The Last Fort Standing: Fort Vermilion and the Peace River Fur Trade, 1798-1830. Occasional Papers of the Archaeological Society of Alberta. Number 14.
Note: In my next post, I’ll tell you about another unusual tobacco pipe in the fur trade. However, before I reveal more about this artifact, I will write a short story about it first.
The northern community of Fort Vermilion, Alberta, Canada. The circled area is the location of the second (c.1830-c.1917) Hudson’s Bay Company, Fort Vermilion.
Sometimes the Meanings of Place Names Have a Surprising History
Place names in Canada usually say something about geography (Two-Hills, Alberta), political or ethnic affiliations (Shackleton, Saskatchewan), events (Cut Knife, Saskatchewan), or plants and animals (Frog Lake, Alberta). Or sometimes just the name of the first local postmaster. In my last post I talked about the meaning and origins of Cabri, Saskatchewan. In this post I examine the meaning of Fort Vermilion, Alberta. At first glance the name seems straightforward, but with further research, is also a bit confusing. Perhaps even a little misleading.
I spent over thirty years doing research in this area. Like everyone else, I assumed that Fort Vermilion referred to the ochre sources in the area. But, my latest bit of research suggests otherwise.
Fort Vermilion, Alberta
When talking to the locals and checking out the web site, Fort Vermilion got its name from, “…the vermilion coloured clays lining the river banks.” When you read that phrase carefully, it suggests that at this particular place, Fort Vermilion, there are red clays containing enough iron oxide to make an ochre the same color as vermilion. Clearly the community was not named after vermilion per se, only the color of vermilion. Before we go any further, vermilion and ochre are different materials:
Vermilion – a brilliant red pigment made from cinnabar.
Vermilion
Ochre – an earthy pigment containing ferric oxide, typically in clay, varying from light yellow to brown or red.
Ochre
Cinnabar – a mineral containing toxic mercury sulfide (HgS). It is a brilliant red color. Humans used it as a pigment in paint for thousands of years in many parts of the world. Until they realized it was highly toxic.
Cinnabar. One of the few places in Canada where you can find Cinnabar is Pinchi Lake, British Columbia.
A Brief History of Fort Vermilion
In 1788 the northwest Company’s Charles Boyer, established a post near the confluence of the Boyer and Peace Rivers. The post only lasted four years and then the Company moved downriver and established Aspen House near La Crete, Alberta. By 1798 they were on the move again and built LaFleur’s Post even further downriver.
In 1821 the Northwest Company and the Hudson’s Bay Company amalgamated becoming the Hudson’s Bay Company. Colin Campbell became the clerk at the original LaFleur’s fort but changed the name to Fort Vermilion. Initially I thought he was referring to the reddish colored clays in the area. But now I wonder. In 1830, the Hudson’s Bay Company abandoned the post and built a new one in the present community of Fort Vermilion.
The middle Peace River area, home to the Beaver First Nations, was an important area during the late 18th – 19th century fur trade. Numerous forts were built by the Northwest, Hudson’s Bay, and XY Companies. As an archaeologist, specializing in fur trade history, this place was special for me.
Problems of location
The first obvious problem is that the original name of Fort Vermilion refers to a different fort that was located in a different place. However, rest assured residents of Fort Vermilion, there are clay-like deposits with iron content near your community, probably to make ochre. No need to rush out and change the name just yet. (Perhaps later, when you read the rest of this post).
Brownish/reddish iron deposits oozing out of the bank of the Peace River, near Fort Vermilion. There are also ironstone nodules (which contain iron oxides) in the gravels.
Problems of Meaning
But, was Colin Campbell really referring to ochre which resembled the color of vermilion? One day I was reading the Fort Vermilion journals, again (for the hundredth time), researching a novel I am working on (to be published in the not-so-near future). And I ran across these references: October 21, 1841: “Most Indians equipped: Preparing for a GrandDance before leaving. Give them the usual allowance tobacco & paintor vermilion…” (HBC Fort Vermilion Journal). Then again In 1844: August 20th, 1844: “…although the Sabbath Indians have their animal dance for which I allowed them tobacco & vermilion.”
Was Campbell referring to real vermilion or the local ochre? I checked the earlier fort inventory lists and ‘vermilion’ is listed in the goods coming in from Hudson Bay and Europe. Its likely the real thing – vermilion. Now that folks is a little scary because if it was truly vermilion and First Nations applied it to their faces or arms, then it would have had some nasty effects. Vermilion is quite toxic.
In an earlier journal reference I read: “Beaver Indians frightened of devils, strangers, can’t sleep & very uneasy.” (August 23, 1840, HBC Journal) I can’t, in all honesty, say that the paint was causing these problems, but the description is suggestive of some classic symptoms of mercury poisoning.
Before you go on a rant about this being yet another example of the mistreatment of Canada’s Indigenous people, let’s put this topic into proper historical perspective. In the 19th century no one really knew how toxic mercury was. Or vermilion. And the proof of their ignorance? They used it in paints for centuries. They also used lead and mercury in the beaver felt hat making process, exposing themselves to this poison. And, as a hatter if you were exposed long enough to this stuff, you became ‘mad as a hatter.’ And the gentlemen in Europe wore those mercury, lead-laced hats on their heads! And lastly, why would you poison the people who you are trading with?
Beaver felt hat. Beaver pelts were the economic driver of Canada during the 18th and 19th century. Millions of beaver hats were made during this period. Ironically, the author, when working on the new Royal Alberta Museum exhibits, could not find a single beaver felt hat in any Canadian museum. They seem to be as rare as hen’s teeth.
What Does the Archaeology Say?
Occasionally, when the moon and stars are in perfect alignment, the archaeological record can act as an independent source of verification of historical facts. In 2016, while excavating at the 1798-1830 LaFleur’s/Vermilion post, we got lucky. Very lucky. We came across this brightly colored red stain in one of the old building cellars. What is this stuff? Ochre or Vermilion? To me, just from looking at the color, it looks more like vermilion than ochre. Time will tell. We are in the process of analyzing this goo to see what it really is.
Excavations at the 1798-1830 Northwest/Hudson’s Bay Company LaFleur’s Post/Fort Vermilion. This layer of brilliant red ‘stuff’ was found near a copper kettle in one of the refilled fort cellars. My colleague, Shawn Bubel, University of Lethbridge, will analyze it to see what it is composed of.
Some Final Thoughts About the Meaning of Place
Over the years I have read many historic documents. I am fully aware of the baggage they sometimes carry: Opinionated, biased, factually inaccurate, etc. Some topics are worse than others. When I think about the naming of place, I am still uncertain what to believe. After looking at many names in Canada, it doesn’t seem like a spur of the moment kind of thing – to name a place. It usually means something related to the area. Or perhaps, no one could think of one, so the postmaster’s last name have to do.
What was Colin Campbell thinking when he renamed his new fort ‘Vermilion’? Honestly, I’m not sure. Was it because the HBC was trading vermilion to the Natives? Was it because he saw the Natives wearing paint that looked like vermilion? Was it because he saw outcrops along the river banks that looked like vermilion? Have I missed any other possibilities? Probably. But one thing is certain. The color red influenced his decision. Understanding names is never a simple matter.
PS: I’m just about done with names and places – for now. Maybe I’ll continue with poisons and health for a while. Stay tuned.
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.
