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Our Canadian Winters. Love ‘Em’? Leave ‘Em’. Or, H….?

This is currently the scene across most of Canada. Winter has set in enveloping us in blistering cold and hills of snow. Image courtesy of: https://ca.images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=AwrWp2TROvBhanMAUAgXFwx.;_ylu=Y29sbwNncTEEcG9zAzIEdnRpZAMEc2VjA3Nj?p=images+of+Edmonton+winters&type=Y143_F163_201897_102620&hsimp=yhs-001&hspart=trp&ei=UTF-8&fr=yhs-trp-001#id=34&iurl=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia-cdn.tripadvisor.com%2Fmedia%2Fphoto-s%2F0b%2Fe4%2F7c%2F77%2Fwinter-in-edmonton-canada.jpg&action=click

As I sit here in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, looking out my window at the winter scene and watching the rest of the Country get buried in a half metre of snow, I’m reminded of this quote:

“‘Hear! hear!’ screamed the jay from a neighboring tree, where I had heard a tittering for some time, ‘winter has a concentrated and nutty kernel, if you know where to look for it.’”

– Henry David Thoreau

Right now I’m searching for that nutty kernel but can’t seem to find it!

However, it’s not as if Canadians have been sitting around doing nothing about winter weather. Just sitting around freezing our butts off. For centuries people have waged war with this northern Wonderland. Trying to better deal with its harshness than merely watching and cursing it.

We’re known for our climate throughout the world. Especially our winters. Long, cold winters envelope most of the country. There are good things about winter: Hockey, curling, skiing. But there are also bad things: Record low temperatures. Or snow up to our chins. And then when winter decides to play real dirty, both intense cold and snow come at the same time. And last for a month longer than usual.

This January has been particularly nasty in my neck of the woods. We’ve recorded some of the coldest temperatures on earth. Lasting weeks. And now as January ends, suddenly it’s above freezing. Winter’s way of playing mind games with us. Because we all know, winter is far from over.

I’ve compiled a list of things we made to better deal with winter. Or learned from winter over many centuries. It’s by no means a complete list. Given the weather outside, this might be a good time to share some of them with you.

Winter has its moments. Late last winter my friend Bob Dawe and I went ice-fishing on one our central Alberta lakes. The weather was pretty decent. Unfortunately the fish didn’t get the message.

Physiological Adaptations

If exposed long enough, humans begin to adapt physiologically to extreme climates. The northern Inuit People of Canada have been exposed to extremely cold temperatures for thousands of years. And over the centuries their bodies slowly adapted to their frigid climate. They have a more compact body stature, fewer sweat glands, blood vessels expand, higher metabolic rates than humans living in warmer climates. It’s all about conserving heat or getting it more efficiently to the body’s extremities.

Image courtesy of: https://cdn.images.express.co.uk/img/dynamic/80/590x/secondary/inuit-1070461.jpg

I figure at this rate, in five-six thousand years, our descendants will fare better in our Canadian climate. As we physically begin to adapt to cold.

Foods and Diet

One of the greatest threats of harsh winters to humans is finding both enough and the right kind of foods, or adapting to the foods in that environment. Both Indigenous People and early Euro-Canadians have taken what nature gave them to deal with winter.

Fat-Rich Diets

Traditional Inuit diet consisted of well over forty-percent animal fats and their total calories were derived from mostly meat. Animal fats contain a tremendous amount of calories required to keep warm in extreme temperatures. Yet Inuit People who ate those traditional fat-loaded foods were healthy and didn’t suffer from heart disease.

Muktuk from the bowhead whale. Image courtesy of: https://ca.images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=AwrUjdN2P_Bh2jMA0zMXFwx.;_ylu=Y29sbwNncTEEcG9zAzEEdnRpZAMEc2VjA3Nj?p=image+of+seal+or+whale+blubber&type=Y143_F163_201897_102620&hsimp=yhs-001&hspart=trp&ei=UTF-8&fr=yhs-trp-001#id=16&iurl=http%3A%2F%2Fcdn.c.photoshelter.com%2Fimg-get%2FI00007Zg9wdhpGs8%2Fs%2F800%2F700%2F17b-30115.jpg&action=click

Early Euro-Canadian fur traders didn’t shirk from a high fat diet either. I’ve written elsewhere that the people living at the forts preferred meat rich in fat. Mainly because fat is high in calories necessary to deal with Canada’s winters. And from the data I’ve looked at, like the Inuit, early Euro-Canadian traders lived a healthy life.

Butchering a bison. Some parts of the bison were very high in fat content. The hump and rib meat contained large amounts of it. Bone marrow, containing large amounts of fat, was also considered a delicacy in the fur trade. Image courtesy of: http://www.noplainjaneskitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/showing-the-hump-11.jpg

Vitamin C

First Europeans arriving in Canada suffered considerably in the winter from scurvy – caused by Vitamin C deficiency. Inuit foods, especially organ meats, contain high amounts of Vitamin C. The Inuit froze their meat and fish and frequently ate them raw. This practice conserves Vitamin C which is easily lost when cooked. Raw kelp is also high in Vitamin C. Narwhal skin contains more Vitamin C than oranges.

Rose hips, growing on wild roses, are very high in Vitamin C. One-thousand grams of rose hips contain 2000 mg of Vitamin C. In fact they contain fifty-percent more Vitamin C than lemons and oranges and 10 % more than blueberries. In western Canada Vitamin C was growing under the very noses of the early traders. Images courtesy of: https://depositphotos.com/stock-photos/rosehips.html

The inner bark of certain species of pine trees contains Vitamin C. The Adirondack People (meaning tree eaters) of Upper New York State, USA, as well as other Indigenous groups, harvested these barks for sugars, starch, and a rich source of vitamin C.

Food Preservation

Our Canadian cold isn’t always a bad thing. It’s a natural fridge to preserve food. At many fur trade forts, winter was a time when the Companies stocked up on buffalo meat, and then processed it into pemmican in the spring. This First Nations highly nutritious mixture of berries, pounded meat and fat was the mainstay of the western Canadian fur trade brigades.

At the forts the meat was kept in large ‘hangars’ or ice-houses until ready to consume:

“The men had already commenced gathering their supply of fresh meat for the summer in the ice pit. This is made by digging a square hole, capable of containing 700 or 800 buffalo carcasses. As soon as the ice in the river is of sufficient thickness, it is cut into square blocks of uniform size with saws; with these blocks the floor of the pit is regularly paved, and the blocks cemented together by pouring water in between them, and allowing it to freeze solid. In like manner, the walls are solidly built up to the surface of the ground. The head and feet of the buffalo, when killed, are cut off, and the carcasses without being skin, is divided into quarters, and piled in layers in the pit as brought in, until it is filled up, when the whole is covered with a thick coating of straw, which is again protected from the sun and rain by a shed. In this manner the meat keeps perfectly good through the whole summer and eats much better than fresh kill meat, being more tender and better flavoured.” (Painter and author, Paul Kane, while visiting Fort Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, in 1846)

When I came to Canada in the early 1950s, we didn’t have fridges or freezers. Keeping produce and meat from rotting in the summer months was a challenge. We also had a large earth-covered walk-in root cellar to preserve our food. It was kept just above freezing in winter, and cool in the summer. Canning, smoking, drying, salting, and sausage making also helped solve some of our preservation problems. And the freezing winter months solved the rest.

And ironically guess what was invented to preserve food in the summer? Frozen packaged food of course. Ever wonder where that idea came from? Well, it just so happens the idea originated in Canada.

Clarence Birdseye, an American worked alongside the Inuit in Newfoundland, Canada, as a fur trapper. He noticed that fish caught by the Inuit fishermen froze almost immediately when pulled the water in the sub-zero winter conditions. Birdseye noted that the fish retained its flavor and texture, even when it was defrosted months later.

In 1920 Birdseye started experimenting with frozen peas. He first blanched freshly picked peas and then fast-froze them preserving their color, texture and flavor. In 1929 Birdseye introduced his ‘fast freezing’ techniques to the American consumer and the frozen food industry was born.

But, we sometimes forget who the original inventors of fast-frozen food were. The Inuit People of Canada. An idea which was modified to meet the challenges of food preservation in warmer climates in the twentieth century.

Shelter

Snow and ground are great insulators. Why not use them as building materials to protect us from our severe winters?

In certain parts of the Canadian Arctic, Inuit People made igloos entirely of snow and ice. It’s considered one of the most elegant and ingeniously built dwellings in the world.

Constructing an igloo out of blocks of snow which had to be a certain consistency and hardness to work. Both body temperature and small lamps could heat the inside of igloos up to nearly 20C. Image courtesy of: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/78/15/61/7815618d7ec9f7fe6a883db936c72aed.jpg

In one of my university boreal ecology classes, we shoveled snow into a large mound and then hollowed out the inside. Even with a candle, or only our body heat, we could get the inside of that structure above freezing. If you’re ever caught in the freezing cold, this simple shelter could save your life.

Interior British Columbia First Nations People constructed semi-subterranean houses to deal with the cold. The pit dug into the ground made up the walls while the roof, constructed from poles and covered with sod, was above ground.

A traditional Secwepemc pit house from south-central British Columbia. Most pit houses were eight to ten metres in diameter and 1.5 metres ) deep.
People went in and out via a notched pole ladder extending through the smoke hole in the roof. Image courtesy of: http://www.skeetchestn.ca/files/images/History/Pit-House.jpg

Many first Ukrainians immigrating to Canada constructed simple semi-subterranean houses before building more elaborate above-ground dwellings. These pit houses, or burdeis, while simple enough probably saved them during their first Canadian winters.

According to Mike Parker: “The Burdei, a sod house style structure, is a temporary shelter for early Ukrainian settlers. Despite its simplicity, it is one of the most memorable structures at the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village near Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.” Image courtesy of: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/64668944638438534/

Why we haven’t adapted our construction techniques to take advantage of these natural materials, is beyond me. Instead we build everything above ground and allow -40C wind chills to blow on our dwellings, expecting to keep warm. Even tipis were banked with snow to better insulate them and keep everyone inside from freezing in the winter.

Subterranean houses are both warm in the winter and cool in the summer, requiring way less energy. And you don’t have to live like a gopher. The houses I have seen are at ground level with mounds of dirt on top and the sides. The downside of this kind of dwelling: It needs to be built stronger to support the heavy loading on the roof. And it needs a good ventilation system to remove the humidity, because it is essentially air tight. All these construction methods and technologies are now available. Photograph courtesy of: https://thearchitecturedesigns.com/unique-underground-homes-designs-you-must-see/

Clothing

Parkas

Many prehistorians believe that without intricate sewing methods to make windproof and waterproof clothing northern Indigenous People might never have inhabited the interior Canadian Arctic where winter temperatures are often deadly. The modern Canadian parka is a derivative of Inuit parkas made from caribou skin to keep out cold and moisture.

From left to right: Woman’s sealskin parka, dated 1475 (Courtesy of: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parka#/media/File:Qilakitsoq_woman’s_parka_sealskin_1978.jpg); Inuit woman with a Amautik which holds the baby against the mother’s back inside the pouch with oversized hoods that are large enough to cover both mother and child (Courtesy of: http://babybaby-baby-baby.blogspot.com/2010/10/amautik-amazing.html); Modern Canada Goose Parka. Only £799.00. (Courtesy of: https://www.triads.co.uk/triads-mens-c1/outerwear-c30/coats-c209/canada-goose-expedition-parka-red-p65711

Inuit People deal with some of the harshest, deadliest climates on the face of the earth. But, it wasn’t just the cold in the winter that could harm you. The sun’s glare off the bright snow was also harmful. Snow goggles, to prevent snow blindness likely originated in Siberia and the Canadian Arctic.

Left: Inuit man wearing snow goggles carved out of caribou antler. Image courtesy of: https://canadianinnovationspace.ca/snow-goggles/. Right: Modern snow goggles perform the same function of cutting down the brilliant glare from snow in the winter.

Wool Blankets Become Capotes and Jackets

The wool blanket soon became an important trade article for northern Indigenous People of Canada. But the blanket was was often repurposed into many articles by both Indigenous People and French Canadian Voyageurs.

The first point blankets were created by French weavers who developed a “point system” — a way to specify the finished size of a blanket — sometime in the 17th century. (See also Weaving.) The term “point,” in this case, originates from the French word empointer, which means “to make threaded stitches on cloth.” The points were simply a series of thin black lines on one of the corners of the blanket, which were used to identify the size of the blanket.

One article of clothing perhaps above all others, the wool capote, or blanket coat, was specifically made to deal with the harsh Canadian winters. It was warm and light. If it got wet it was easy to dry. It was soon modified into various types of coats according to the needs and tastes of those wearing it.

French Canadian Habitants and voyageurs, First Nations and Metis People wore wool capotes. Design and color were based mostly on personal needs or common shared values. Northern hunters liked the mostly white colors for camouflage in the winter. It became an article of fashion, being easily modified according to the tastes of the people. My wife and I own hooded capotes which were sewn for us using an original fur trade design. Left: Cree elk hunter by Arthur Henning; Center: Chipewyan hunter, Wood Buffalo by Frederick Remington; Right: Dog driver dressed for winter travel with capote and snowshoes.

“The Metis man’s winter attire was the capote; a thigh length coat with full length sleeves which could come with or without a hood or cape. Most had small shoulder decorations made of red stroud. To get the coat closed were both thongs and buttons or a sash.”

Lawrence J. Barkwell

What started simply as a wool blanket coat for winter use continued to transition. Through fashion the blanket coat or Mackinaw established itself with our Canadian identity in a number of ways. The British military used them during the war of 1812, shortening them from the traditional blanket coats. Unable to find enough blue blankets, the commanding officer had the coats made of tartan designed wool blankets. Today’s tartan Mackinaw jackets are a derivative of those early army coats.

Different styles of capotes worn by Metis People. Some were elaborately stitched and fringed or turned into buttoned double breasted jackets
Left: My wife’s woolen capote made in 1974 from an original design. Center: A men’s Hudson’s Bay blanket coat, or Mackinaw, 1965. Right: The Canadian winter Olympic team, 1968, Grenoble, France, wearing blanket coats in opening ceremonies. Canadian Olympic teams also wore the blanket coat in 1936, 1960 and 1964. A distinctly Canadian winter garment that endures the test of time.

Transportation

Given our severe winter weather our ability to get around is hampered considerably. Here are a few things we did about it.

Snowshoes

The origin and age of snowshoes is not precisely known. Archaeologists currently believe they were invented between 4,000 to 6,000 years ago somewhere in central Asia. However, these first snowshoes were made of wood or leather blocks or planks. Indigenous People in Canada invented the lighter webbed snowshoe. There are many designs depending on region and type of snow cover.

Snowshoes also became important in the Canadian fur trade. Women living at the forts netted the snowshoes using specially made bone needles.

Snowshoe netting needles, similar to this one found in Maine, USA, have been recovered from Canadian fur trade sites. The needle was used to knit the rawhide mesh onto the snowshoe frame. Image courtesy of the Peabody Museum: https://collections.peabody.harvard.edu/objects/details/12855

From Sleds and Toboggans to Snowmobiles

In a previous post I talked about the long history of sledding in Canada and the strong dog sledding tradition which originated among northern Inuit People. Because of our strong sledding traditions and winters, it’s not surprising then that the first snowmobiles were built in Canada. In 1935 Joseph Bombardier assembled and successfully tested the first snowmobile. The first model had a sprocket wheel and a track drive system, steered by skis.

Bombardier B-12 snowmobile. Image courtesy of: https://ca.images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=AwrWnaNE5u5hcGAARQYXFwx.;_ylu=Y29sbwNncTEEcG9zAzEEdnRpZAMEc2VjA3Nj?p=images+of+bombardier+snowmobile&type=Y143_F163_201897_102620&hsimp=yhs-001&hspart=trp&ei=UTF-8&fr=yhs-trp-001#id=5&iurl=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-UFcJTF4PwJk%2FTgF2Z27QnxI%2FAAAAAAABmyI%2FUMfVKUW1N38%2Fw1200-h630-p-nu%2F4373984169_b03a0e9ef8_o.jpg&action=click
I recall one of the first Ski-Doos in Cabri, Saskatchewan around the mid- to late 1960s, owned by my friend David Culham. We had great fun on those first sleds. Ski-Doo Bombardier, 1965. Image courtesy of: https://ca.images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=AwrWnaNE5u5hcGAARQYXFwx.;_ylu=Y29sbwNncTEEcG9zAzEEdnRpZAMEc2VjA3Nj?p=images+of+bombardier+snowmobile&type=Y143_F163_201897_102620&hsimp=yhs-001&hspart=trp&ei=UTF-8&fr=yhs-trp-001#id=21&iurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.ytimg.com%2Fvi%2Fkixz_0C8oJg%2Fmaxresdefault.jpg&action=click

Snowblower

In 1925, in Montreal, Canada, Arthur Sicard constructed the first self-propelled rotary snow blower, based on the concept of farm grain threshers.

A Sicard rotary snow blower. Image courtesy of: http://www.barraclou.com/truck/sicard/sicard_snowblower.jpg
Today’s walk-behind snowblowers are capable of handling large amounts of snow and throwing it considerable distances. Photograph courtesy of: https://ca.images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=AwrUimR06e5h_1gAjwQXFwx.;_ylu=Y29sbwNncTEEcG9zAzIEdnRpZAMEc2VjA3Nj?p=origns+of+the+snowblower&type=Y143_F163_201897_102620&hsimp=yhs-001&hspart=trp&ei=UTF-8&fr=yhs-trp-001#id=14&iurl=https%3A%2F%2Fedenapp.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2020%2F10%2FOG-snowheader_lifestyleheader.jpg&action=click

The Future

As our Canadian climate continually challenges us, people experiment with new methods and technologies to either cope better with winter, or take advantage of what it gives us.

I recently read about a joint research project between McMaster University and UCLA. Researchers are developing a method to harness electricity from falling snow. According to an article by Mark Wilson: “Researchers at UCLA have developed a first-of-its-kind breakthrough by building a small silicone sensor-generator that can harvest electricity directly from snow–dubbed a “snow-based triboelectric nanogenerator” or “Snow TENG.” It could lead to a new wave of wearable electronics, more efficient solar panels, and even entire buildings that can produce energy during winter weather with a simple coat of paint.” (Courtesy of: https://www.fastcompany.com/90339438/winter-is-coming-but-good-news-we-can-now-harvest-energy-from-snow)

Essentially researchers constructed a thin sheet of silicone: “The thin device works by harnessing static electricity. Positively-charged falling snow collides with the negatively-charged silicone device, which produces a charge that’s captured by an electrode.”

Well, the snow is falling anyway, so we might as well take advantage of it. For some odd reason, snow carries a positive electric charge. However, as Wilson further elaborates in his article, the ingenious part of this technology is its application. If you attach a piece of this silicone to the bottom of your winter boot and it comes in contact with snow it produces electricity.

I’m not sure where this nanotechnology will go but what about putting a layer on winter automobile tires. Is that possible? Researchers are already experimenting with tires that make electricity caused by the friction between the tire and the road surface. Why not snow?

Hygge – What?


Everyone’s occasionally felt it in the dark, cold winter. Feeling a little mentally low. When you’re stuck inside. And it’s freezing cold outside.

The Danes have tried to replace this feeling with one of well-being in the winter instead. They call it Hygge.

According to one article, Hygge isn’t a word—it’s a feeling. According to The Hope Chest: “It’s that feeling you get when you come inside after a long, cold, windy day and see a beautiful dinner, and the whole house smells like frikadeller. It is the warmth of a fireside glow at the coffee shop, or a warmhearted conversation with a friend. It is woolen slippers and a plush blanket curled up with a book, or a quaint dinner party with your closest friends. Hygge is anything that makes you feel comfortable and content.” (Courtesy of: https://danishhomeofchicago.org/the-hope-chest/2019/01/07/top-ten-scandinavian-inventions/)

Well, I’ve searched for my own Canadian version of Hygge. I think I’ve found it. On a cold, dark, January Canadian winter evening I like to have a few of these below to deal with our weather. Who knows, maybe it will even catch on. Easy on the ice though….

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Just Grinding (No More Pecking) Away: Stone Maul Progress(?) Report (Three)

Many of you might be wondering, after reading my previous two posts about my stone maul project, why I haven’t written a follow-up post since last May. I have lots of excuses to avoid grooving that quartzite maul. Pain is high on the list. Skinning my fingers, breaking finger nails, arthritis and inflamed joints, and generally getting stone dust all over myself, immediately come to mind. And then of course there’s the reno from hell happening at my home.

Enough said. Perhaps it’s time for an update. I continued grinding away on my maul for about two more hours for the rest of May. I used a quartzite burin-like flake again because it worked better than anything I tried so far. However, I added wet sand to the groove for these two hours of work. I could feel the grinding flake catching and abrading the maul channel much better than before. Below is what the maul looked like after those two hours (now six hours in total).

My stone maul after about six hours of work. I was hoping maybe the inside of the maul was softer than the cortex (the outer oxidized surface of the rock). Not true say my knowers of stone. The inside is just as hard, as I’m finding out.

The groove is about 9cm long and 1.0cm – 2.0cm wide, and about 1mm – 2mm deep. The area on either side of the groove is becoming polished. Probably from my fingers continually rubbing against it.

I’m having a hard time keeping the groove straight. Once a straight groove line is established, it’s easy to keep this line when working near the middle. But at the end of the groove is where the battle to keep it straight is being waged. I’m worried that if I stray too much the groove on either end of the maul won’t join up when I reach the other side of the maul (if I ever get that far). So I penciled a line on the maul to help keep me on track.

I also noticed that no matter which direction I grind the groove, by occasionally reversing the maul in my hand (wrongly thinking the other end might be softer), one wall of the groove is ridging while the other shows more rounding or angling. I can’t currently explain why this is happening. If I was only pushing one way or not reversing the maul, then either the angle of the flake or the angle I am holding the flake and grooving might explain this difference.

Sketch of cross-section of the maul surface with the groove. One side is relatively straight. The other side is more angled/curved to the surface which is also a little lower than the other side of the groove. Occasionally I find myself holding the grinding flake at an angle, instead of straight up and down. But because I turn the maul often this angling should affect both walls of the groove the same?

A Little More Background on Making Ground Stone Tools

There are few historical or ethnographic descriptions of people making groundstone tools of any kind. Karen Giering, Royal Alberta Museum, sent me this interesting article, on ground stone axe manufacture by the Héta (meaning All of Us) Indians of Brazil, written by Vladimir Kozak in 1960 (published in 1972 in the Journal of the American Museum of Natural History). The Héta are now extinct and Kozak was almost too late to record this practice. The Héta had already replaced their stone axes with steel axes. His is one of the few articles describing the manufacture of a stone axe in the Americas. Some of the processes involved apply to my ground stone maul.

Héta man and woman wearing the sipál neck adornment of their tribe. Photograph courtesy of: https://acateamazon.org/forgotten-tribes/forgotten-tribes-amazon-heta-brazil/

Kozak describes the stone axe: “The blade was nearly oval in cross section, and the bit was sharpened to a keen edge. The butt was buried deep within the thick upper part of the wooden handle, which was about two to three feet long. In the hands of one skilled in its use, the stone ax was, as I came to see, an effective tool.”

Although he had trouble convincing the Héta to make a stone axe for him (why do this when they already had steel axes), Kozak finally succeeded. Here are some highlights when Kozak observed the Héta men making an axe:

  • Careful selection of the stone for the axe head: “A stone should be of the proper size and have the approximate shape of the finished ax, that is, an elongated ovoid. By beginning with a stone of this shape, much less abrading is required, thus saving the ax maker many hours of work. Beside being the right size and shape, the stone must be tough enough to withstand the many blows it will have to deliver.” Unfortunately Kozak doesn’t mention what kind of stone the Héta men selected.
  • The hammerstone used for pecking the axe to shape it should be harder than the stone axe head. Nor does he mention the kind of stone selected for pecking.
  • Pecking and Shaping: “He spread his knees, brought the soles of his feet close together, and placed the ovoid stone between them. Then, taking the hammerstone in his hand, he began to peck. He pecked at the surface of the stone with light, carefully directed blows. No chips or flakes came off during the pecking, only fine granules. Little by little, the hard, water-polished cortex of the stone was completely removed, and the cobble was lightly pitted over its entire surface. Stone dust soon covered his hands and feet and accumulated on the mat beneath him.”
  • The pecking and shaping process took several days (number of hours are not mentioned). It was time-consuming, exhausting and required precision. One wrong whack could ruin the axe. As the author notes: “The work seemed endless to me, and I was beginning to see why Eirakan and the others had thought my request senseless.” I can sympathize.
  • Grinding and Polishing: Once pecking was completed, the men ground and polished the axe blade to sharpen it: “A large sandstone cobble was brought in for the purpose, along with some white clay, which Nango put into a water- filled container made from a folded palm spathe. He then took the ax head, dipped it into the container, held what was to be the cutting edge firmly against the sandstone with his hands, and began rubbing. He ground one side of the ax, turned it over, ground the other side, went back to the first side, and so on.” This step took an entire afternoon with Nango exerting considerable pressure on the grinding stone to sharpen the axe.
The axe blade is dipped in a wet clay solution and ground against a piece of sandstone held securely by the feet. The man uses both hands to apply downward pressure. The sandstone shapes the blade and the clay solution polishes it. Although Kozak doesn’t mention it, I’m assuming the polishing is meant to reduce the amount of friction when cutting. Also noteworthy, the grinding and pecking steps are not separate, but done together. Photograph courtesy of: https://acateamazon.org/forgotten-tribes/forgotten-tribes-amazon-heta-brazil/
  • Kozak states: “Under favorable conditions, the Héta could make a stone ax in three to five days, with another half-day for hafting.”
The completed stone axe, hafted and ready to perform multiple tasks. Photograph courtesy of: https://acateamazon.org/forgotten-tribes/forgotten-tribes-amazon-heta-brazil/
  • The Héta used stone axes for felling trees, cracking nuts, chipping and breaking bones, grinding and hammering. They sharpened the end of the handle to drive into rotten trees to extract insect larvae or to dig out honey: “Pounded into the ground with a heavy stone, it made holes for shelter poles. It functioned as a digging stick and was used to excavate pit traps. And occasionally, when wielded as a club, the stone ax could be a dangerous weapon.” In short, the axe was an important multi-functional tool for the Héta.
The stone axe set in a wood handle with a sharpened end. The sharpened wood handle is used here to extract honey from a beehive. (Photograph courtesy of American Museum of Natural History, Vol. LXXXI, No.8, 1972)

Unlike the Australian Yir Yoront’s stone axes, there didn’t seem to be a ripple effect through the rest of Héta culture when they abandoned the stone axe in favor of the steel axe (for the Yir Yoront story go to this link: https://canehdianstories.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=2016&action=edit). But then Kozak wasn’t there to record all the details before and after the transition took place.

Controversy continues regarding the eventual adoption of metal tools by Indigenous Peoples around the world. Superior effectiveness and efficiency of metal versus stone tools top the list. Robert Carneiro has done a lot of work among Amazonian groups, including the Amahuaca Indians of Eastern Peru. He found it took seven-eight times longer to clear a patch for planting in the rain forest with a stone opposed to a steel axe. Others found there is only a slight difference in stone opposed to metal axe efficiency (a 1.4:1 ratio). I made a crude bifacially flaked stone hand axe to cut down a 10cm diameter tree. It took much longer than with a steel axe. Even if hafted with a more refined, thinner, sharper edge, the stone axe still would not have been as effective a cutting tool as a metal axe.

And then there’s the labour involved making stone axes or mauls. That too might have been a factor for choosing metal axes. I’m finding that out the hard way.

Back to the Grind

Recently, I worked on my maul for another four hours. At first, I tried to change grinding tactics. Instead of pushing a stone flake across the maul to cut the channel, I decided to take a page from the Héta. The Héta men used their feet to hold the sandstone abrader, essentially the reverse of what I was doing. They took the stone axe and ground it against the sandstone grinding stone. I held my maul between my knees and ground the flake against it. Why not reverse this process so I could apply more force when grinding?

I couldn’t use my feet to hold the grinding flake (besides being impractical, this position would have put me in bed for days), I put the stone grinding flake in a vice and then rubbed the stone maul against it; hopefully to create much more force and pressure. I’m quite certain there were no metal vices in Canadian prehistory, but there probably were vice-like devices for holding the abrader (flake or grinding stone) in place while rubbing the maul stone over it.

So, I tried it. It didn’t work. Well, at least not yet. Because my maul’s groove channel was so thin and shallow, I had trouble determining if I was in the groove while holding the maul upside down to grind it on the flake held by the vice. I tried a few times and finally gave up and went back to holding the flake to grind the maul held firmly between my knees. However, once the channel becomes deeper and wider, I’ll try this method again. This method should create a lot more downward grinding force and speed up the process. It can’t get much slower than it is now.

After Eight Hours of Work

Quartzite maul after eight hours of grinding.

After two more hours of grinding, and a total of eight hours of work, here are a few facts and things I learned.

  • I didn’t use sand in the groove as before. This likely would have gotten me tossed out of the house. It was too cold to work outside;
  • The length of the groove has not substantially changed (still about 9cm long);
  • The groove channel is now about 3mm wide;
  • The groove channel is about 1.5 – 2.0mm deep;
  • The edges of the grinding flake become smooth and highly polished after a certain amount of use. Once that happens the grinding flake is no longer effective. It just slides along the surface, not gripping it. At this point I either select a new flake or retouch the flake’s grinding edge by whacking it on the maul. Once retouched I can feel the flake grab in the maul groove again. Over a one-hour session, I retouched the flake 6 – 8 times;
  • Instead of using my feet to hold the maul in place while grinding it, I use both my knees and one hand to hold it firmly (holding it with my feet is out of the question). It’s hard to apply any force on it if it’s continually wobbling. Perhaps it would be more efficient to make a vice-like mechanism to hold the maul more firmly while applying pressure on the flake with both hands;
  • I also used flakes with broader edges and angles to widen the groove channel. I’m using two different sizes of flakes to accomplish my objective: A larger flake to broaden the groove and a thin, narrow flake to deepen it. Eventually, I want to create a 1cm – 1.5cm wide groove whose maximum depth is about 4mm – 5mm.
  • The shape and angularity of the grinding flake matters if you want to protect your fingers when applying a considerable grinding force. If sharp edges or pieces are jutting out anywhere you grab the flake, it will eventually hurt you.

After Ten Hours of Work

Quartzite maul after ten hours of grinding.

After ten hours of work, I feel slightly more encouraged, no longer thinking this project is hopeless. I seem to be working harder, too, as I can see actual progress being made. ‘Mind over matter’….If only that were true.

I’m also becoming a little possessive of the damned thing. As I labour away, I think about how devastating it would be if the maul broke or got lost. After all that work!

As I’m working, I also think back on the Australian Yir Yoront stone axes. The Yir Yoront traded for their stone axes, and the men then controlled who used them. Was this control an act of exerting power and authority over others (as the author suggests)? Or was this possessiveness related to the axes value – the amount of labour (through trade) it took to acquire the axe, which was not easily replaced?

A few more facts after 10 hours of work:

  • The groove channel is 6mm wide in some places. I aim to make it about 1.5cm wide;
  • In some places, the groove channel is now 3mm deep;
  • I’m using a wider and larger flake edge, which is beginning to grind away at the walls of the groove. The idea is to constantly increase the flake size as the groove gets deeper, to widen it.
Cross-section of cobble and grinding flake. The flake is wider than the bottom of the groove. When forced down the flake begins to abrade the sides of the groove, widening it.

I’ve also taken photographs of the flakes I used to grind the maul. I don’t see much edge retouch or any striations with the naked eye. But I do see the edges of the flake ground down and smoothed; and in some areas highly polished. There’s a whole raft of literature on stone tool microwear patterns made when using stone tools for cutting, grinding, and pounding different materials. Currently, I’m unaware if anyone has ever identified wear patterns from making ground stone tools. If the methods I’m describing to make this maul are similar to those made prehistorically, then we should see similar types of evidence in the archaeological record.

So, I’ll just describe what I saw under a magnifying glass. On one grinding flake, there’s a high degree of polish on the primary working surface – in this case, the narrow tip of the flake. There is some polish along the sides of the flake as well, but not nearly as intense as on the tip. At this level of magnification, I don’t see any other marks/striations on the flake working edge. I would need a low-power microscope to see those, if they exist.

The highly polished flake edge surface after grinding the maul groove in photographs A and B. A rejuvenation flake was removed from the polished surface of the grinding flake in photograph C. The grinding flake is now ready for more work.

I also managed to find the rejuvenation flake I knocked off while trying to retouch the edge on my grinding flake. This one is about 10mm by 7mm. The working edge of the rejuvenation flake (where it rubbed against the maul groove) is highly polished. It has some diagnostic flake attributes (striking platform, bulb of percussion, fissures, etc.). But, you would be hard-pressed to identify it as a flake with the naked eye.

The polished grinding edge of the rejuvenation flake was removed by striking it on the maul. Even though it’s small, the flake shows most of the attributes of a typical percussion flake (a striking platform and a bulb of percussion). However, unlike other flakes, it shows the highly polished grinding platform left over from grinding the maul groove. Unless you are looking closely, it would be easy to miss this type of evidence. In fact, with most of our screening methods, this flake, or anything smaller, might not even make it back to the laboratory.

And, once again, to remind all of you who are unfamiliar with quartzite, why my task is taking so long. Check out the image below. I tried knocking off some flakes from a frozen quartzite cobble with my hammer. Broke the hammer.

After attempting to smack off a few quartzite flakes from a cobblestone to use to grind my stone maul, and breaking my hammer, I had to take a much heavier stone quartzite hammerstone to eventually remove these flakes from the core. This cast-iron hammer didn’t have a chance. Quartzite is extremely hard. Right up there with steel. And harder than jade.

A Few Closing Thoughts

Below is a composite photograph showing my progress in grinding the maul for ten hours. I almost quit at hour four. It’s plain to see why.

As you can see, ten hours of grinding has produced a significant groove in the quartzite cobble (well, at least to my eyes). But I’m far from even finishing one side of the cobble. At this rate, it will take at least forty hours, or longer, of grinding to complete just one side.

In summary, there are only so many ways to speed up this process:

  1. Increase the downward force exerted when grinding the groove. I could accomplish this by putting either the grinding flake or the maul in a vice and using both hands to push down harder while grinding;
  2. Increase the grinding surface area of the flake. By using flakes that have a greater contact length with the grinding surface. This might work even better if I could also apply more force as well;
  3. Speed up the number of grinding repetitions per minute. Not practical. I’d have to pump some weights and be forty years younger to do that.

I’ll write my next maul progress report after I have completed twenty hours of work. As the maul groove gets wider, I may also have some new insights on the grinding process to share with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pecking? Forget It

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

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

Sawing and Grinding

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

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

Continued Search for Just the Right Tool

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

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

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

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

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

A Few Closing Observations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Experiment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Stone Piles on the Western Plains of Canada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keeping an Eye on My Children: Respect the Stone Piles

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

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

Markers for Important Places, People, and Events

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

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

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

A Unique Piece of Canadian History

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

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

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

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

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Let’s Fight Fire, With Fire

In memory of:

Dr. Henry (Hank) Lewis, University of Alberta

Dr. William Pruitt, University of Manitoba

Walls of smoke and flames approaching the City of Slave Lake, Alberta, Canada, 2011. https://news-ca.churchofjesuschrist.org/media/640×360/017.jpg

High Level (2019), Fort McMurray (2016), Slave Lake (2011), Alberta, Canada! On fire, or nearly so. Fires so hot, I’m told by first-hand witnesses, that the flames jumped across the Athabasca River at Fort McMurray. A distance of more than 200 metres. A scenario which repeats itself in many parts of Canada.

And also in other parts of the world. In 2019 we witnessed horrendous fires in New South Wales, Australia. The Blue Mountains turned grey.

Katoomba, New South Wales, Blue Mountains on fire, December 2019. A few new fires broke out in less than one hour while we were there.

Yes, granted. Climate change is partially responsible for more intense, frequent fires. But, not totally. It’s way more complex than that. It’s also a result of precedence – in this case, economics over ecology. Canada’s policy of fire suppression, for well over a century, is one of the worst mistakes made in managing our forests.

Whenever I drive through Slave Lake, up to Fort Vermilion on Highway 88, I go by the burned-out area of trees on the east side of the highway. And there on the west side sit the houses of the City. The City starts where the forest stops. How can that be a good idea?

Burned down houses near the edges of Slave Lake, Alberta. https://static.theglobeandmail.ca/b72/news/alberta/article24593293.ece/ALTERNATES/w620/web-fire-0525.JPG

How could this happen? The answer to that question requires a lesson in Canadian history. Yes, as you will see, history can teach us important lessons to apply to the future. There’s no doubt about that. But first to learn from history, we have to read it. Too little of that in Canada.

And then, the people reading it have to be empowered to turn what they learned into policy. Too little of that too from our policymakers in Canada.

Fire, Fire: The Warning Cries

In the early 1970s, I attended lectures by Henry Lewis, Professor of Anthropology. Dr. Lewis was studying the use of fire by the Dene and Cree of northern Alberta, Canada. He just finished researching the use of fire by Indigenous people in California.

Lewis’s message was clear. The northern Dene and Cree used fire regularly to clear areas in the boreal forest to create meadows and other habitat more suitable for a diversity of game animals. And they had likely done this for centuries. The boreal forest we see today was nothing like it was centuries ago before White settlement.

And by doing so, Indigenous people, not only in Canada but throughout the world, lessened the intensity of natural forest fires. Controlled burning decreased the amount of dead vegetation, or fuel, and opened up the forests, reducing large-scale spread.

In 1976 I studied Boreal Ecology under the late Professor William Pruitt, University of Manitoba. Pruitt was a quiet man with the looks and demeanour more like Santa Claus than some ‘political shit-disturber’ which he was labelled as at the University of Alaska (for standing up against the US government’s nuclear policies). The good Dr. Pruitt repeatedly told us that government fire prevention policies in the boreal forests of North America would lead to disaster. Unfortunately, Dr. Pruitt’s words turned out to be prophetic.

Massive wall of flame and smoke near High Level, Alberta, Canada. https://globalnews.ca/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/05-30-highleveltrevor2.jpg?quality=85&strip=all

The Historic Evidence of Human Use of Fire

High Prairie, Grande Prairie, Prairie Point, Jon D’Or Prairie, Buffalo Head Prairie, Clear Prairie, Meadow Lake. These are the names of a few settlements in today’s northern boreal forest in Alberta and Saskatchewan. There are more prairie names of settlements in the boreal forest than on the Northern Great Plains. Where did these names come from? Surely not because some nostalgic folks living in the woods, yearning for the prairies, named them.

No. These areas in the northern boreal forest, at the beginning of White settlement, contained vast prairies, kept open and maintained by First Nations people using fire.

Let’s go back and look at some of the evidence for deliberate burning practices by Indigenous peoples throughout the world.

Indigenous Use of Fire, Australia

“The “virgin lands” first observed by Europeans in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries were not an untouched wilderness. As several writers
have noted, the “forest primeval” was a later, romanticized creation of the
Euro-American imagination.” (Henry Lewis and Theresa Ferguson, 1988)

Historic painting of Australian Aborigines hunting in a park-like landscape. http://www.abc.net.au/reslib/201205/r949404_10117814.jpg

The Australian Aborigines used fires to create a park-like vista on the Australian landscape at the time of contact with Whites. Their activities were misunderstood and regarded with suspicion by early settlers. This created considerable strife between settlers and aborigines, as documented in a series of letters between the governor and settlers:

“I fear His Excellency will find it a very difficult subject to deal with, and impossible wholly to prevent, it has always been the custom of the Natives to fire the country during the summer season for a variety of purposes, first to assist them in hunting, it also clears the country of underwood, which if not occasionally burnt, would become an impenetrable jungle, infested with snakes and reptiles. “ (Letter to Peter Broun, Secretary to the Governor, New South Wales from Revett Henry Bland, Protector of Natives at York, 1846)

“If so – they burn for their food, whereas the existence of our Flocks and Herds depends on what to us is thus annually irretrievably destroyed and the whole district is now groaning under the ruinous spoliation…” (Richard G. Meares, Resident, 1846)

The outcome eventually favoured the settlers. As it would in many other parts of the world. Indigenous peoples were banned from burning and the dense bush began to encroach eventually creating the situations we saw last year in the Blue Mountains. Over the years fire suppression created more problems than it solved.

While driving through the outback of New South Wales of Australia in 2019, I noticed many goats along the roadsides. Feral goats are everywhere. Eating up the shrubbery and weeds. Keeping them at bay. Turns out in some communities goats are Australia’s new ‘fire’ to control bush and prevent major fires.

Goats, in some parts of Australia, are now the new ‘fire’, keeping dense vegetation and undergrowth under control. “On the edge of Daylesford, a town on Dja Dja Wurrung country in Victoria, Australia prone to massive bushfires, a small group of community-minded folk have pulled together to work towards restoring the ecology of their commons forest – in order to stop the future need for controlled burn-offs by the local fire authority.” Goats, it seems are the new fire. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feral_goats_in_Australia#/media/File:Goats_-_Wilpena_Pound.JPG)

Indigenous Use of Fire, California

Virtually the same circumstances took place in what was to become California when the Spanish arrived. They tried to suppress the use of fire by the Indigenous people, calling it “primitive” and wasteful. In 1850, the US government passed the Act for the Government and Protection of Indians, which outlawed intentional burning. According to fire historian Stephen Pyne:

“They said if we suppress all these fires, we end light burning, we will have great new forests. And we did – we had so much great new forest that we created a problem.”

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/nov/21/wildfire-prescribed-burns-california-native-americans. Rick O’Rourke, Yurok fire practitioner during the prescribed burn in Weitchpec, California.

In the late 1960s, the US government rethought its fire policies but is still paying the price today. Indigenous groups, such as the Yurok are again beginning to actively use fire, as they had traditionally for many centuries, to open up the forests:

“Our first agreement with our creator was to tend the land. It was taken away from us, and now we’re trying to reclaim it.” (Rick O’Rourke, Yurok fire manager, from https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/nov/21/wildfire-prescribed-burns-california-native-americans)

Indigenous Use of Fire, Boreal Forest, Northern Alberta

In Alberta, northern Canada, at the time of contact Dene used fire to manage the forest and keep it from clogging up. According to surveyor George M. Dawson in 1879, when in northern Alberta:

“…the origin of the prairies of the Peace River is sufficiently obvious. There can be no doubt that they have been produced and are maintained by fires. The country is naturally a wooded one, and where fires have not run for a few years, young trees begin rapidly to spring up.” (Macoun 1882:125)

In the early 1970s, Dr. Henry Lewis argued that places in northern Alberta:

“…prescribed fires were once part of the Indian’s own pattern of ‘landscape management’.….their selective employment of modern fire for boreal forest adaptations indicated an understanding of both the general principles and the local specific environmental relationships that are the subject of modern fire ecology….They understood and practiced controlled burning as a part of hunting-gathering subsistence activities.” (from Lewis 1982)

By the use of fire, the people kept meadows and other areas open and refurbished:

“Why the bushes so thick is because…they stop burning—the Indians stopped burning…Did you ever see them prairies? My goodness, I even remember. It was really prairie…just prairie, you know, (and) here and there you see little specks of woods….” (Beaver woman, 69, High Level, Alberta area; from Lewis 1982:24)

Such open meadows would have attracted many large game animals, including the once-abundant woodland bison:

“Until the mid-eighteenth century bison ranged throughout much of the boreal forest, as far north as Great Slave Lake and the Mackenzie River in the Northwest Territories….it seems unlikely that either the Athapaskans or later Algonkians would have overlooked the possibilities of providing and maintaining better habitat for woodland buffalo [through use of fire].” (from Lewis 1982; brackets mine)

“People know where to hunt. Our people have a name for those burned places in the forest called go-ley-day. They tell one another about those places and when to hunt there.” (Slavey, 69, Meander River area; from Lewis, 1982)

When asked why this practice stopped, the responses were consistent and similar to other areas of the world:

“But it is years ago they did that. Nowadays you can’t burn on the trap line because it’s against the law, and it’s not so good as before.” (Slavey 73, Meander River area; from Lewis, 1982)

Indigenous people also knew that camping and living among the trees was dangerous:

“What is that name? Maskuta? Muskotaw! Yea, that’s a prairie like place. There used to be lots of places around here. Nobody built their house in the woods like they do now. If we get a forest fire now it could be really bad. All the houses would get burned up. It’s a lot safer if you got open places…you just your teepee up there.” (Cree, 78, Trout Lake [Alberta] area; from Lewis 1982)

Obviously, that lesson, learned long ago, has yet to trickle down to today’s generation.

Anthropogenic Burning and the Historic Record, Alberta

Both Indigenous people and academics have voiced these ideas for years now. But, still not enough people are listening. Recently, however, more action has been taken to better manage the world’s forests. Including Canada’s forests.

For example, ecologists working in Alberta’s Rocky Mountains demonstrated that restoring forest areas to a pre-European landscape “resulted in dramatically lower mean probability… [of high-intensity fires] …and a smaller reduction in the mean fire size” (from Poletto 2019)

My interest in anthropogenic burning lies in how long it was used. The Fort Vermilion region contained ‘prairies’ at contact and was an important place for the acquisition of meat in the fur trade. In 1987 we found one of the largest prehistoric sites in the region, which we think might have been used intermittently for the last 9,000 years. Was this place always important historically and a prairie?

Throughout northern Alberta, archaeologists and paleo-ecologists are looking at these relationships more closely. Did these historically documented prairies have a long history of human use?

During the late 18th – early 19th centuries, traders and explorers noted several places where large game, especially wood bison, were plentiful in areas with prairies or more open parkland. Here are a few of the areas shown in the map below:

These are a few of the places, circled in yellow, described by traders and explorers as containing ‘prairies’ and abundant large game animals, including wood bison. 1. Fort McKay area; 2. Lake Athabasca delta; 3. Salt Plains, NWT; 4) Fort Vermilion -High Level area; 5) Whitemud River near Peace River; and, 6) the Grande Prairie.
The Salt Plains, NWT, west of Fort Smith. An open parkland area with natural salt outcroppings. Important wood bison grounds historically and today’s herds.
Buffalo Head Prairie, just south of La Crete, Alberta, looking south towards the Buffalo Head Hills in the distance. Historically a vast, flat, wide open prairie, likely maintained by burning. Today it has some of the best farmland in the region. In some parts of northern Alberta, early settlers stated that they would not have cleared the land so easily had it not been for the already open prairie areas such as these south of La Crete.
Our large, ancient archaeological site near Fort Vermilion, Alberta, Canada, is now mostly in a cultivated field. One of the still-standing Metis log houses was built at the turn of the 20th century.

These places contain both a high frequency and some very large archaeological sites, thousands of years old. Unfortunately we do not have sufficient evidence to connect the long Indigenous land use directly to deliberate burning and the formation of prairies and parkland in the forest.

It will take years of research to better understand this association. However, it has already begun. Paleo-ecologists are examining lake sediments in some areas of the province. They reveal a long history of deliberate burning before contact. The task is difficult as one researcher recently noted:

“Although anthropogenic fires cannot be distinguished in Sharkbite Lake’s record, the charcoal record indicates that on average, every 155 years there was a major fire episode close to Sharkbite Lake. More recent regional fire studies indicate that some areas are prone to burn every 10 years.” (Christina Potello, Department of Anthropology, University of Alberta)

Back to the ‘Old Ways’

Massive wall of flames approaching Fort McMurray. https://ca.images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search?p=images+of+burned+area+near+Fort+McMurrayl+alberta&fr=yhs-trp-001&type=Y143_F163_201897_102620&hspart=trp&hsimp=yhs-001&imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs-i.huffpost.com%2Fgen%2F4285976%2Fthumbs%2Fo-FORT-MCMURRAY-900.jpg%3F16#id=6&iurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs-i.huffpost.com%2Fgen%2F4285976%2Fthumbs%2Fo-FORT-MCMURRAY-900.jpg%3F16&action=click

With the incorporation of the Dominion Lands Act in 1872, Canada engaged in a war against fire. Good or bad. Elizabeth Ramsey’s (2015) article on the history of forest fire management in Alberta documents the views and policies that have led to today’s crisis. As one fire expert succinctly put it, by the second half of the 19th century conflicting interests about Alberta’s resources collided, “…a new logic of economics smashed against an older logic of ecology.” (Stephen J. Pyne, 2007).

While our perceptions and actions are slowly changing toward fire, in the words of one Indigenous informant, back in the 1970s:

“It would take a long time to make the country like it was before we stopped burning…maybe fifty years to get the country back (to what it was). It would take a lot of work.” (Slavey, 73, High Level [Alberta] area; from Lewis 1982)

While it’s never too late to change course, it would take a herculean effort to take our forests back to the pre-contact days. And, does it conflict with today’s economics? Perhaps. But surely our current forest policies are not the answer.

Today’s northern boreal forests are often choked with dense underbrush making travel through them almost impossible. And also finding archaeological sites. Boyer River, 2018. Somewhere in there is a late 18th-century fur trade post.

As I walked across the ancient prehistoric site near Fort Vermilion and gazed towards the Caribou Mountains in the distance I envisioned a vast prairie – parkland centuries ago, with grazing herds of wood bison and elk, stretching for miles in either direction, in what is now Canada’s northern boreal forest.

Now only open fields or dense forests appear before me. But no flocks of feral goats. We haven’t got that desperate yet.

……………………….

References

Lewis, H.T., 1982. A Time for burning. Boreal Institute for Northern Studies. Edmonton, Alberta.

 Lewis, Henry T., and Theresa A. Ferguson, 1988. Yards, Corridors, and Mosaics: How to Burn a Boreal Forest. Human Ecology 16:57-77.

Macoun, John, 1882. Manitoba and the great North-West. Guelph, Ontario. World Publishing Company.

Poletto, Christina Livia, 2019. Postglacial Human and Environment Landscapes of Northeastern Alberta: An Analysis of Late Holocene Sediment Record from Sharkbite Lake, Alberta. M. A. Thesis, Department of Anthropology, University of Alberta.

Pyne, Stephen J., 2007. Awful Splendour: A Fire History of Canada. University of British Columbia Press.

Ramsey, Elizabeth, 2015. Ecology or Economy. A History of Forest Fire Management in Alberta. Alberta History:16-20.

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My Stone Knife: A Note About Canadian Stone Tool Technology

Much of Canadian human history is written in stone. Stone tools, and detritus from making those tools, are often the only remaining physical evidence of the presence of the New World by First Nations peoples for thousands of years. That record goes back well over ten thousand years in some parts of the Americas.

I’m just analyzing the stone tools we found in 2018 at a prehistoric site in the Fort Vermilion region, northern Canada. I always marvel at the level of craftsmanship (or craftswomanship) these tools display.

This prehistoric biface, likely a stone knife, found in northern Alberta, Canada, was an important type of cutting tool for First Nations people for thousands of years.

Take for example this beautiful bifacially flaked quartzite knife. It still retains its edge, even though possibly made thousands of years ago. The reason is that quartzite, on the Mohs hardness scale, is about a seven (diamond being a 10), equivalent in hardness to a good steel knife blade.

Years ago, at Simon Fraser University, we learned how to make stone tools. We smashed our fingers, we bled, we cursed… Soon I began to appreciate just how hard it was to make even a simple stone tool. Such as this knife.

There’s a lot of thought, effort, and skill involved when making a stone knife. Let’s consider a few of the necessary steps.

First you need to know something about the characteristics of stone. And where to find the best ones. When it comes to stone tool making not all rocks are created equal.

Many stone tools are made by a method called direct percussion where the knapper (stone tool maker) drives flakes off a cobble or spall to thin and shape it. The best rocks for making stone tools have a cryptocrystalline (or having a microscopic crystalline) structure. These rocks fracture in predictable ways because the force created by the blow dissipates through them evenly. Quartzite, a metamorphosed sandstone, is such a rock.

Stone flakes from a northern Alberta prehistoric site, driven off a larger piece of rock. The dark rock on the left is chert (a hard, fine-grained sedimentary rock composed of cryptocrystalline crystals of quartz); in the middle is orthoquartzite (similar to quartzite) and on the far right, quartzite. These three types of rocks are found in northern Alberta. Prehistoric First Nations people made most of their stone tools from them.

I have wandered the North Saskatchewan River Valley looking looking for just the right quartzite cobble to flake. Because not all quartzites are equal either. I have yet to find quartzites of the quality of some of the prehistoric quartzite stone tools in the region.

For example, below are some average quality local quartzites. Notice how much coarser and grainy they are compared to the ones above. With these materials it is much harder to flake, thin and shape a tool. Over the years I have learned what cobbles to look for before splitting them. Those that have chatter marks (made from hitting other rocks or scoured by ice) on the cortex (outer oxidized layer) are usually better quality. And, when you strike another rock against them, the good ones ring a bit; the poor quality ones ‘clank’.

A quartzite flake (left) and a quartzite biface (right). These quartzites are coarser and grainier than the quartzite above. And therefore do not flake as well.

Once you have found good raw material, you then have to strike the piece you are working on just right to remove a flake. Again, easier said than done. If you don’t strike the piece at the proper angle with your hammer (often simply another stone), you either crush the striking platform or nothing happens because you did not create enough force to move through the rock to remove a flake.

Or, you could break and ruin the piece. That’s where more cursing and smashing of fingers usually comes in.

We refer to stone tool making as a ‘reductive’ technology. One major mistake and you have to start over. Unlike pottery-making which is an ‘additive’ technology and more forgiving if you make a mistake.

I started flintknaping obsidian (volcanic glass). Although dangerous it is relatively easy to work. After a few months I made some decent tools.

I made this small obsidian point by another flintknapping technique, known as pressure flaking. In this technique you push off the flakes to shape and thin the artifact with an antler tine. It takes special platform preparation, and proper angle to ‘push’ off the flakes. One slip and you could either drive your hand into the edge or drive the tine into your thigh. Done both.
This obsidian knife snapped in half when I tried to remove a thinning flake from the left end. Later my professor told me this is referred to as ‘end-shock’, where the force of the blow stops at some point in the object and then travels up. Snapping it in half. There was a lot of moaning after that incident.
Obsidian is easier to work than quartzite, and achieves a very sharp edge. But it is more brittle and does not maintain an edge as well as quartzite. There is always a trade-off.

Then, while excavating a prehistoric site in Edmonton, Alberta, in the early 1980s, I decided to work with local quartzite. Well, it was as if I had never flintknapped before. Quartzite, when compared to obsidian, is much harder. You really had to whack those edges (and occasionally fingers) to get anything off. And often you couldn’t control what came off.

After months of practice I made some passable tools, like the quartzite biface below. But that took tremendous effort and many attempts. And, when you compare the thinness (a sign of quality workmanship) of my biface to the one we found in northern Alberta, it shows what an amateur I still was after all that practice.

This quartzite biface made by the author pales in comparison in workmanship to prehistoric bifaces, such as the one below. And I have seen even thinner examples in Alberta assemblages.
The northern biface on edge, showing the thin cutting edge and overall thinness of this stone tool.
My quartzite biface on edge. Not nearly as thin as the northern biface. The thicker cutting edge on my biface would not cut as well as that northern biface. And, hafting this piece onto a wood or bone handle, would have been difficult because of its thickness.

And that folks is what it takes to just make a stone knife. There are other more sophisticated stone tool making techniques that take even greater skill and are more time-consuming. Such as pecking or grinding stones to make tools.

Nephrite adze blades found in the Grande Prairie area, Alberta, Canada. This tool, which was cut from larger blocks, and the cutting edge ground down, was likely made in British Columbia and traded into Alberta. A good example of ground-stone technology. https://open.alberta.ca/dataset/0197d86f-f7e1-4726-9440-cc2765e79c6e/resource/06315117-4c8d-45b0-bcaf-80a6995e35a7/download/pre-contact-jade.pdf
The Viking Ribstones, near Viking, Alberta, Canada. An example of grinding or pecking stone technology. It took either many years, or many First Nations people, or both, to patiently grind away on these granite boulders to create these incised lines, which some people believe depict the ribs of a buffalo. https://hermis.alberta.ca/ARHP/GetImageDetails.aspx?ObjectID=4665-0111&MediaID=127160

Today We Occasionally Use Stone Tools

Humans and their ancestors, throughout the world, made a variety of stone tools. Some of the earliest stone tools date back to over 2.58 million years ago, and were nothing more than fist-sized cobbles with some flakes removed to create a cutting edge.

In some parts of the world, people still made and used stone tools during the 20th century. Even today we are not totally out of the stone age. Nothing, not even the best steel, compares to this obsidian surgical scalpel blade (left), with an edge thickness of approximately one micron.

https://ca.images.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search?p=obsidian+scalpel+blade+images&fr=yhs-trp-001&hspart=trp&hsimp=yhs-001&imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.stack.imgur.com%2FxSNCk.png#id=6&iurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.stack.imgur.com%2FxSNCk.png&action=click

Today, many people, including archaeologists, create beautiful tools from exotic rocks, to better understand the ancient tool-making techniques.

Some prehistoric tools, however, are almost beyond the believable, such as these Mayan ‘eccentrics‘.

Some of the finest ancient flintknapping and most beautiful ancient stone artifacts, or eccentrics, ever made come from the Mayan Civilization, northeastern Belize, central America. These objects are pieces of art. http://www.lithiccastinglab.com/gallery-pages/2010septembertussingereccentricspage1.htm

When I see these Mayan artifacts, or the stone workmanship below, I only sigh with envy. And, as a Canadian, I refer to that often-used hockey analogy when viewing this piece. ‘Hell, I could have been that good (to make the NHL) if only I’d practiced more.’ Ya, right!

This begs the question, of course, why Indigenous people around the world eventually abandoned these techniques and traded for similar European tools? Answers to that question of Canadian history, are complex and often hotly debated.

Maybe, in a future post, I will elaborate further on that question with a work of historical fiction!

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Prehistoric Lifeways: The Bison Pound

The Plains Bison. Once numbering in the millions on the Great Plains of North America, this animal furnished prehistoric peoples with food, clothing, and shelters. Trying to capture these animals took a great deal of effort and ingenuity on the part of their human pursuers.

Over the centuries humans invented many ways to capture and slaughter animals on a mass scale. In Canada the most well known methods include netting or trapping thousands of fish (fish weir) at a time, or driving the Plains bison over cliffs. In his renowned book Imagining Head-Smashed-In (University of Athabasca Press), archaeologist Jack Brink talks about the methods the Blackfoot of southern Alberta used to drive hundreds of bison over steep cliffs to their deaths.

The cliffs at Head-Smashed-In buffalo jump, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, west of Fort Macleod, Alberta, Canada. Prehistoric peoples drove the bison off this ten metre high cliff located at the southern edge of the Porcupine Hills. The animals would then be butchered in the nearby camp which also had a source of water close by. The site may have been used as early as six-thousand years ago leaving a twelve metre thick bone bed beneath the cliffs.

The Bison Pound

One of the few historic images of a bison pound. In this drawing, by George Back, horsemen chased bison into a wooden circular corral. In prehistoric times runners would have pursued them on foot. Hunters hid around the pound fence ready to dispatch the animals with spears, bows and arrows, or firearms. The camp was usually nearby, hidden and downwind from these nearsighted animals with an incredible sense of smell. (Library and Archives of Canada, C-33615)

The bison or antelope pound is another, lesser known method of mass killing that First Nations peoples used on the Northern Great Plains and park lands in western Canada. In her monograph, Communal Buffalo Hunting Among the Plains Indians, Eleanor Verbicky-Todd, describes a number of ingenious ways people captured these animals and disposed of them. One of those ways was the pound, or surround.

Aside from Brink’s book, this is one of the best sources written about communal bison hunting. Published by the Archaeological Survey of Alberta, it describes the various methods of communal bison hunting and other ingenious ways prehistoric peoples devised to capture this animal.

What is a Bison Pound?

Bison pounds are large corrals or surrounds, between five and six feet high, made from cut trees with an opening at one end to chase bison into. Once inside the animals couldn’t escape (because of a ramp or drop into the corral at the gate) and were then disposed of with the bow and arrow, or later with firearms. Of all the methods First Nations peoples devised to capture these enormous animals, pounding was the most difficult of all.

This drawing of an Assiniboine buffalo park or surround by Edwin Thomas Denig (from Indian Tribes of the Upper Missouri. 1930:532. Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology). The pound requires some key components to work. A long drive lane is spread out to funnel the animals in. A set of hills, dunes, or trees are present in front of the corral to hide it from the animals. An elevated ramp near the entrance prevents the animals from escaping. In the center of the corral there is a medicine mast (usually a striped tree) with charms attached to it by the grand-master of ceremonies. The buffalo caller.

“Success depended upon too many circumstances. The ground had to lie correctly; timber should be available; the game has to be fairly plentiful and within easy reach. Also, someone able to guide the animals in the right direction was indispensable. Under the most favourable conditions, too, the herd often escaped.” (from Robert Jefferson, 1929. “Fifty Years on the Saskatchewan.” In Canadian Northwest Historical Society Publications 1:1-160)
Diagram of the Plains Cree buffalo pound (by David Mandelbaum 1979:53. In The Plains Cree). The bottom two sketches show the gate or entrance which is a raised wood platform or earthen ramp. Once the bison jump in they can’t get back out again.

Where Does Bison Pounding Occur?

In Canada bison pounds are found on the Northern Great Plains and the park lands of the prairie provinces. But, in these areas certain key elements were required: Bison, trees (to make the corrals), suitable terrain, a large gathering basin, and lots of people (to build the pound and drive lanes, drive the animals in, dispose of them, and then butcher and process the meat).

For many years known locations of bison pounds were relatively rare in Alberta. Today most pounds occur in the park lands and northern Great Plains where there are trees and proper terrain. Such as river valleys or foothills. Without trees you can’t build the corrals and drive lanes.

In 2010 there were sixteen known pounds recorded in Alberta. Most of them occur in areas with trees and hilly terrain. Early explorers, such as David Thompson, Peter Fidler and Alexander Henry, remarked that bison pounding was a major industry in the park lands of the prairie provinces. As the demand for meat and pemmican rose during the fur trade, this industry likely became more common than during prehistoric times.

Now after hundreds or even thousands of years these features leave no mark on the surface of the land. You’ve probably driven by some pounds without even knowing it.

Suitable Terrain and Trees – Bodo, Alberta

Terrain and trees were key factors to build and operate a successful pound. Hills or barriers (e.g., trees) were required to hide the pound from the bison. Sometimes the pound was placed on a slope, helping to drive the animals down into it. On a flat surface the drive lanes were sometimes curved and a ramp was built at the entrance to hide the corral. A successful pound also required a large prairie or gathering basin for bison to graze, and then to move the animals toward the pound.

The Bodo area of east-central Alberta is just such a place. Bodo, you ask? Where is that? Well, I’ll let you look it up on a map. If you visit the area when their interpretive center is open in the summer months, you can even tour the site and occasionally partake in excavations.

This is Bodo, Alberta, southeast of Provost, near the Alberta-Saskatchewan border. The area contains all the key elements to make a good pound. Treed sand hills (above left) to build and hide the pound. And a large gathering basin where bison would come to graze and drink water from the nearby creek. The photograph at the bottom shows the treed Bodo sand dunes, surrounded by vast grasslands. A perfect spot for an ambush.

Surprise and Ambush – Hardisty, Alberta

The Hardisty bison pound site is a short distance east of the Battle River and would have provided people with wood, water and the terrain necessary to drive bison successfully into a well concealed pound.

When you drive east on Highway 13 and arrive at Hardisty, Alberta and then cross the Battle River, you will see a series of oil bunkers on the right side of the highway. In the Battle River Valley below them lies the Hardisty bison pound. The site was found when the oil companies wanted to construct their pipelines through the valley corridor. What was uncovered and hidden for so many years, surprised many people.

The Hardisty site is remarkable in many ways. It wasn’t discovered until relatively recently, although it was near a major central Alberta highway and the community of Hardisty. It contains a very thick bone bed which represents use between 900 – 1,100 years ago, and then approximately 7,000 years ago, making it one of the oldest known pound sites in western Canada. It also contained an adjoining camping and processing area.

Archaeological deposits and artifacts from the Hardisty site. Top left: a bone pit. Right: prehistoric projectile points. Bottom left: pottery shards. (Photograph courtesy of FMA Consultants)

Paskapoo Slopes, Calgary, Alberta

North facing Paskapoo Slopes, looking south from the north side of the Bow River. The numbered sites represent prehistoric campsites, kill sites, and one major pound (EgPn-362). (Photograph courtesy of Lifeways of Canada)

Nestled on the Paskapoo slopes, in the heart of Calgary, Alberta, are a series of prehistoric campsites, kill sites, and a major buffalo pound site, hidden for thousands of years in plain view.

Bone bed of bison pound being excavated by archaeologists, Lifeways of Canada. Archaeologists collect all the bones and artifacts and then reconstruct what portions of the animals were used and what was left behind. (Photographs courtesy of Lifeways of Canada).
Illustrations of the Hardisty pound site (above left) and the Paskapoo pound site (below right), redrawn from Lifeways of Canada and FMA Consultants, showing the shape of the drive lanes, the pound and the slope of the land. Note in both sites the drive lanes may have curved somewhat near the gate and corral. Possibly to better conceal the gate and the pound from the bison.

A Time for Ceremony, Cooperation and Feasting

Communal large game hunting, such as the operation and construction of a bison pound, took a great deal of skill, organization, cooperation of many people, and sound execution to successfully lure the animals into the corrals. Pounding was accompanied by ceremonies to bring in the animals, and feasting when the animals were caught. Often the pounds did not work and then the process started over again.

What the Paskapoo Slopes pound and processing area might have looked like. (Drawing, courtesy of Lifeways of Canada).

Bison pounds in Alberta date back as far as seven-thousand years, and possibly earlier. These are only a few of many pounds that likely occur in Alberta. Others have yet to be found. Numerous pounds are also present in southern Saskatchewan (near Estuary and Gull Lake) where I grew up. As a young boy I used to roam the river hills where Miry Creek flowed into the South Saskatchewan River. There might have been a pound near there as well.

I’ll leave you with one last perhaps more realistic description of an Assiniboine bison pound near Fort George, Alberta, described by North West Company trader, Duncan M’Gillivray, in 1794. Not a pretty picture:

“On arriving at the camp our noses were assailed by an offensive smell which would have proved fatal to more delicate organs: It proceeded from the Carcases in the Pound and the mangled limbs of Buffaloes scattered among the Lodges, but another substance which shall be nameless contributed the most considerable part of this diabolical odour. In the afternoon were were gratified by the seeing the Buffalo enter the Pound; they were conducted thither by two small fences beginning on each side of the door and extending wider the farther they advance in the Plain: from behind these the Indians Waved their robes as the Buffaloes were passing to direct their course straight towards the Pound, which was so well constructed on the declivity of a small hill that it was invisible till you arrived at the gate. The poor animals were scarce enclosed, when showers of arrows were discharged at them as they rushed round the Pound making furious attempts to revenge themselves on their foes, till at length being overcome with wounds & loss of blood they were compelled to yield to their oppressors and many of them were cut to pieces before the last remainder of life had forsook them. Of all the methods which the Indians have devised for the destruction of this useful animal, – the Pound is the most successful.” (from the diary of Duncan M’Gillivray, November 23, 1794, near the Vermilion River, Alberta.

The bison pound, when full of large, frightened, stampeding animals, would have been a chaotic, dangerous place to be near. This drawing by Robert Frankowiak is on the cover of Verbicky-Todd’s monograph published by the Archaeological Survey of Alberta. It was originally in Thomas F. Kehoe’s publication, The Gull Lake Site: A Prehistoric Bison Drive in Southwestern Saskatchewan. 1973. Milwaukee Public Museum Publications in Anthropology and History 1.

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

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

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

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

The Things That Eventually Kill Us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This chart comes from courtesy of Our World in Data.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did the Average Age of Death Change Through Time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Do These Results Tell Us About Fur Trade Society?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

References:

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

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

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

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

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

“We Eat Everything Except the Manure.”

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

Our Present Canadian Diet

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

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

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

The 18th and 19th Century Canadian Diet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The More Fat, the Better

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fat of some animals were considered inferior to others:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Times of Scarcity

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fur trade archaeological record

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Animal Grease/Fat Selection

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Few Key References

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

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

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

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