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Twenty Seven Years in Canada West by Samuel Strickland

S >> Samuel Strickland >> Twenty Seven Years in Canada West




One morning, the less-experienced trapper of the two, this being his
first season, went along the line to look at the traps, as usual. He
had his gun with him, but only two or three charges of powder. After
proceeding to the extreme end of the line, he thought he would go on
and look for some partridges, which he heard "drumming"* some little
distance a-head.

[* This sound is made by the Canadian partridge (a species of the
grouse) during its season of courtship. The cock-bird perches himself
on the top of a large hollow log, or fallen tree, and with his wings
produces a vibratory sound, like the distant roll of a drum, which, in
still weather, can easily be heard at the distance of a mile in the
woods.]

In the pursuit of his game, he was induced to go further than he had at
first intended. He never doubted that he should easily find his way
back to the line. In this, however, he was woefully deceived, for the
day was cloudy, and the face of the country was very rough. It formed,
indeed, a part of the great granite range, which is said to cross the
St. Lawrence, at the Lake of the Thousand Islands, traversing the rear
of the Midland District and the counties of Hastings and Peterborough,
through the unsurveyed lands north of Lake Simcoe, to the shores of
Lake Huron. This granite formation is supposed to have an average
breadth of ten or twelve miles, being intersected with small lakes,
deep ravines and precipitous rocks. The woods of this region being
composed principally of pine, hemlock, and cedar, are of a peculiarly
gloomy character. In such a difficult country as this, it was no wonder
that our inexperienced trapper went astray.

After an hour's fruitless search for the line, he came to the
conclusion that he was lost, and that his only chance was to fire off
his gun, in the hope that his companion would hear and return it. As no
answering sound greeted his ear, he durst not fire his only remaining
charge of powder, for it was all he had to defend himself from wolves,
or to obtain some animal or bird whereupon to sustain his life.

For four days and three nights did this poor fellow wander through
these rugged wilds. On the afternoon of the fourth day he came upon a
ridge of land, which appeared better timbered and more open; so he
determined to follow this route, expecting it might lead him to the
lakeshore, where his camp was situated.

He had not walked a hundred yards in this new direction, when to his
surprise he saw quite a fresh blaze on a tree, and within a fear yards
of the spot on which he stood, a newly constructed marten-trap. Words
cannot express the joy he felt at this discovery; it was his own line
he had so fortunately come upon. Had he only gone the smallest distance
to his left, he would have missed it altogether; but he came,
providentially, upon the very spot where he had set his last trap, and
within a few feet of the place he had left four days before.

On his way to the camp, a sudden fear came over him! Had his companion
left it, supposing him to be irrecoverably lost? If so, what was to
become of him on the north shore of Stony Lake, without a canoe to
cross over to the settlement, food, or ammunition to procure any for
his support. His fears were, however, groundless, as the report of a
gun, and soon after the appearance of his companion convinced him; but
the danger had been great; for, from the statement of his fellow-
trapper, he found that the latter was then on his way to the end of the
line, hoping that he might see or hear something of him before he broke
up their camp, which he intended to have done in the morning, if he had
not unexpectedly fallen in with his friend. Thus had Providence again
interposed in his behalf, and a few days of rest restored him to his
wonted health, spirits, and activity.



CHAPTER XIII.

DIRECTIONS FOR ASCERTAINING THE QUALITY OF LAND IN THE BUSH. -- SITE OF
LOG-SHANTY. -- CHOPPING. -- PREPARATION FOR SPRING-CROPS. -- METHOD OF
PLANTING INDIAN CORN. -- PUMPKINS AND POTATOES. -- MAKING POT-ASH.

I SHALL now endeavour to give the emigrant some information to guide
him in the selection of his land, and other matters connected with a
settlement in the bush. In the first place, the quality of the land is
the greatest consideration, and to make a good choice requires a
practical knowledge as to the nature of the soils, and the different
kinds of timber growing thereon.

The best land is timbered with oak, ash, elm, beech, bass-wood, and
sugar maple. A fair mixture of this species of trees is best, with here
and there a large pine, and a few Canadian balsams scattered among the
hard-wood. Too great a proportion of beech indicates sand or light
loam: a preponderance of rock elm is a sign of gravel or limestone-rock
near the surface.

The timber should be lofty, clean in the bark and straight in the
grain, and of quick growth. The woods should be open, free from
evergreens, and with little under-brush. Generally speaking, the soil
is of excellent quality, when timbered in the manner described.

It however, often happens, that the best land is full of boulders,
which are both troublesome and expensive to remove. Two-thirds of these
stones are not visible above the surface, and the remainder are so
covered with moss and leaves, that they require a practised eye to
detect them. I have no objection to a small quantity of stones, as they
are useful to construct French drains, or to roll into the bottoms of
the rail-fences.

When limestone-flag is near the surface, the stems of the trees will be
shorter, their heads more bushy, and the roots spreading along the top
of the ground. Such land is apt to burn in hot weather, and soon
becomes exhausted. White pine, or hemlock ridges, are almost always
sandy, and good for little--except the timber, which is valuable, if
near enough to water. White-pine, mixed with hard-wood, generally
indicates strong clay land, good for wheat; but the difficulty of
clearing off such heavy timber, and the long time it takes to get rid
of the stumps, render such a selection unprofitable, and add additional
toil to the emigrant.

The best land for wheat should be gently undulating soil, rich loam, on
a clay bottom. In the summer months you can judge the quality of the
land by the freshly turned-up roots of trees, which have fallen by the
wind.

In winter, when the surface of the ground is covered with snow, and
frozen hard, the growth and quality of the timber, as before described,
are your only mode of judging correctly.

A constant supply of water is absolutely necessary, in a country liable
to such extreme heat in summer. Canada West, abounding, as it does, in
small spring-creeks, rivers, and lakes, is, perhaps, as well watered as
any country in the world; and, in almost every section of the country,
even on the highest ridges, good water can be obtained by digging
wells, which seldom require to be sunk more than twenty feet; and in
many townships, not half that depth is required.

After the emigrant has selected a proper location, his next object is
to choose the best situation to build his shanty, and chop his first
fallow. Most settlers like to commence as near as possible to the
concession-line or public road; but sometimes the vicinity of a stream
of water or good spring is preferred. In fact, circumstances must, in
some measure, guide them in their choice.

The best time of the year to commence operations is early in September.
The weather is then moderately warm and pleasant, and there are no
flies in the Bush to annoy you.

A log shanty, twenty-four feet long by sixteen, is large enough to
begin with, and should be roofed either with shingles or troughs. A
small cellar should be dug near the fire-place, commodious enough to
hold twenty or thirty bushels of potatoes, a barrel or two of pork, &c.

As soon as your shanty is completed, measure off as many acres as you
intend to chop during the winter, and mark the boundaries by blazing
the trees on each side.

The next operation is to cut down all the small trees and brush--this
is called under-brushing. The rule is to cut everything close to the
ground from the diameter of six inches downwards.

There are two modes of piling, either in heaps or in wind-rows. If your
fallow is full of evergreens, such as hemlock, pine, balsam, cedar, and
such description of timber, then I should say wind-rows are the best;
but when the timber is deciduous, heaps are better.

The brush should be carefully piled and laid all one way, by which
means it packs closer and burns better. The regular price for
underbrushing hard-wood land, and cutting up-all the old fallen timber-
-which is always considered a part of the underbrushing--is one dollar
per acre, and board. Rough land and swamp vary from seven shillings and
sixpence to ten shillings. Your under-brush should be all cut and piled
by the end of November, before the snow falls to the depth of four
inches, for after that it would be both difficult and tedious.

The chopping now begins, and may be followed without any interruption
until the season for sugar-making commences. The heads of the trees
should be thrown upon the heaps or wind-rows. A skilful chopper will
scarcely ever miss a heap when felling the timber, besides it saves a
great deal of labour in piling the limbs.

The trunks of the trees must be cut into lengths, from fourteen to
sixteen feet, according to the size of the timber. Now and then a large
maple or beech, when felled, may be left without cutting up, with the
exception of the top, which is called a plan-heap, and is left to log
against: this is only done when the tree is too large to be cut through
easily with the axe.

All timber fit for making rails should be left in double and treble
lengths, as it is less likely to burn.

A good axe-man should be able, with fair chopping, to cut an acre in
eight days after the under-brushing is done. The regular price of
chopping is five dollars per acre, with board, or six without.

The emigrant should endeavour to get as much chopping done as possible
during the first three years, because after that time he has so many
other things to attend to, such as increase of stock, barn and house-
building, thrashing, ploughing, &c., which, of course, give him every
year less time for chopping, particularly if his family be small, in
which case fifty or sixty acres are enough to clear at first, till his
boys are old enough to give him assistance.

Clearing up too large a farm, when labour is so high, is not wise, for
it will not answer to disburse much for hire, at the present prices.
If, therefore, you are not able to cultivate what you have cleared
properly, it will grow up again with raspberries, blackberries, small
trees, and brush, and be nearly as bad to clear as it was at first.

The size of the farm must, however, depend on the resources of the
emigrant, the strength and number of his family, and the quantity of
acres he may possess.

In the month of May the settler should spring-burn three or four acres,
and log them up for his spring-crops, such as potatoes and Indian-corn.
The Indian-corn should be planted with the hoe in rows, three feet
apart and thirty inches in the row. A pumpkin-seed or two should be
sown in every second or third hole in each third row. The corn must be
earthed or hilled up by drawing the mould close round the roots, and
five or six inches up the stalks, which should be done when the plants
are fifteen or sixteen inches high. No further cultivation is necessary
until the time of cutting, except breaking off some shoots from the
roots, if too many are thrown out.

Potatoes on the new land are also planted with the hoe, and in hills of
about five thousand to the acre. A hole is scraped with the hoe, in
which four or five sets, or a whole potato is dropped. The earth is
then heaped over them in the form of a mole-hill, but somewhat larger.
After the plants have appeared above the surface, a little more mould
is drawn around them. Very large crops of potatoes are raised in this
manner. Two hundred and fifty bushels per acre are no uncommon crop. I
have assisted in raising double that quantity; but of late years, since
the disease has been prevalent, but poor crops have been realized.

Both white turnips and swedes do well, and grow to a large size,
particularly on new land: the roots must be either pitted or put in a
root-house, or cellar, as the winter is too severe for them to remain
unhoused.

The remainder of the fallow should be burnt off and logged up in July,
the rail-cuts split into quarters and drawn off to the site of the
fences, ready for splitting into rails. After the log-heaps are burnt,
you should either spread the ashes or rake them while hot into heaps,
if you intend to make potash,* with which, by the by, I should advise
the new-comer to have nothing to do until he has made himself
thoroughly acquainted with the process.

[* This article is very extensively made in nearly all the new
settlements, and may be considered one of the staples of the country.
The process is very simple; but great care must be taken in collecting
the ashes clear of sand or dirt of any description. If your ashes are
well saved and from good timber, ten acres should produce at least five
barrels of potash, each barrel containing five hundred weight. Several
things should be considered before the emigrant attempts the
manufacture of this article. Firstly, his land should be well timbered
with oak, elm, maple, and bass-wood. Secondly, it must have a stream of
water, near which he may erect his works. And, lastly, it ought to be
within reach of a market and a remunerating price, which, to pay the
manufacturer, should not be less than twenty-five shillings, Halifax
currency, per cwt.

The best situation to erect an ashery upon, is the side of a bank,
beside a running stream; and if there should be fall enough in the
creek to bring a supply of water over head into the leaches, a great
deal of labour will be saved. An ash-house, six or eight leach-tubs, a
pot-ash kettle, and three or four coolers are all the requisites
necessary. Most persons use a small portion of common salt and lime in
the manufacture of pot-ash. After the lye is run off it is boiled down
into black salts, which are melted into pot-ash, cooled off, and packed
into air-tight barrels ready for market.]

As soon as the settler has cleared up fifteen or twenty acres, his
first care should be to erect a frame or log-barn; I should strongly
recommend the former, if boards can be obtained in the neighbourhood,
as it is undoubtedly the best and cheapest in the long run. If I were
commencing life again in the woods, I would not build anything of logs
except a shanty or a pig-sty; for experience has plainly told me that
log buildings are the dirtiest, most inconvenient, and the dearest when
everything is taken into consideration.

As soon as the settler is ready to build, let him put up a good frame,
roughcast, or stone-house, if he can possibly raise the means, as
stone, timber, and lime, cost nothing but the labour of collecting and
carrying the materials. When I say that they "cost nothing," I mean
that no cash is required for these articles, as they can be prepared by
the exertion of the family.

With the addition of from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds in
money to the raw material, a good substantial and comfortable dwelling
can be completed. Two or three years should be spent in preparing and
collecting materials, so that your timber may be perfectly seasoned
before you commence building.

Apple and plum orchards should be planted as soon as possible, and well
fenced from the cattle and sheep. The best kind of grafted fruit-trees,
from three to seven years old, can be obtained for a shilling a tree;
ungrafted, at four shillings the dozen.

The apple-tree flourishes extremely well in this country, and grows to
a large size. I gathered last year, out of my orchard, several Ribstone
Pippins, each of which weighed more than twelve ounces, and were of a
very fine flavour. The native plums are not very good in their raw
state, but they make an excellent preserve, and good wine.

Some of the particulars mentioned in this chapter have been glanced at
in an earlier portion of the work; but I make no apology for the
repetition. My object is, to offer instruction to the inexperienced
settler, and to impress these important matters more firmly upon his
mind and memory, that he may have his experience at a cheaper rate than
if he purchased it at the expense of wasted time, labour, and capital.



CHAPTER XIV.

MY FIRST SHOT AT A BUCK. -- HUNTING AND SHOOTING PARTIES. --
DESTRUCTIVENESS OF WOLVES. -- LOSS OF MY FLOCKS. -- COWARDICE OF THE
WOLF. -- THE LADY AND HER PET. -- COLONEL CRAWFORD'S ADVENTURE. --
INGENIOUS TRICK OF AN AMERICAN TRAPPER. -- A DISAGREEABLE ADVENTURE. --
HOW TO POISON WOLVES. -- A STERN CHASE.

MY father-in-law had a large field of fall wheat, upon which, during
the night, the deer were very fond of grazing. Just before dark, the
herd used to make their appearance, and we tried repeatedly to get a
shot at them, but in vain. At the least noise, or if they winded us, up
went their tails, and they were off in an instant. I was determined,
however, not to be so continually balked. I had observed, by the
tracks, the direction they took in their way to the field; so, an hour
before their usual time of coming, I sallied out, and concealed myself
in the top of an old fallen tree which lay a few feet from the ground,
and about twenty yards from a path which I suspected had been beaten by
the deer, going backwards and forwards to the field.

The place I had selected to watch for them was an old settlement duty-
road, which had been cut out some years before, but was now partially
grown up again with a second growth of timber and underbrush. Having
seated myself very snugly, I took out of my pocket a volume of
Shakespeare to pass away the time. I had not been half-an-hour so
employed, before my attention was suddenly aroused by hearing a stick
break near me, when upon looking up I beheld the head and horns of a
large buck projecting from behind a thicket of trees. He appeared to be
in a listening attitude, so I durst not stir till he should have
lowered his head, as I knew the least movement then would make him
start off in an instant. Luckily, however, the wind was blowing from
his direction to mine. Presently, he walked into the open space; and
whilst I was cautiously raising my gun, he disappeared beneath the brow
of a small hill; but almost immediately, from the inequality of the
ground, his head and shoulders again became visible. On this, I
instantly fired.

Astonished and mortified was I, when I saw him scamper off with his
tail up, as if nothing had happened. Still, I was sure I must have hit
him, as he was not forty yards from where I sat, his broadside being
towards me. So I followed the track for about two hundred yards, but
without seeing any blood; and was in the act of turning back,
concluding, that as he had hoisted his tail, I had missed him
altogether. Indeed, I had often heard, that if they show the white
feather, as putting up their tail is called by Canadian sportsmen--they
are not hit. This, however, is a mistake; for, in the act of turning
round to retrace my steps, I saw a small drop of blood upon a dry leaf.
I now felt quite certain that I had struck him. On proceeding a few
yards further, I saw several large splashes of blood. There was now no
room left for doubt; and, in another minute I was standing beside the
first buck I had ever killed. On opening him, I found I had put a ball
and five buck-shot into him, which had entered just behind the fore-
shoulder; and though two of these shots had lodged in the lungs, he
had, notwithstanding this, continued to run on the full jump, more than
two hundred yards.

Not long after this adventure, my brother-in-law shot a deer through
the heart, which ran full a hundred yards before he dropped.

Two or three years after, in the township of Douro, where I now reside,
I was walking down to the saw-mill about half a mile from my house,
with my American rifle in my hand, when, on coming close to the river,
I saw a large buck swimming down the middle of the stream near the
mill-dam. I ran down to the spot as fast as I could, for I expected he
would land on the opposite shore, at the corner of the dam. The surmise
proved to be correct. He was in the act of climbing up the bank when I
fired, and he fell back into the river. Recovering himself, however, he
scrambled out and made off. I crossed the bridge and went round to the
spot where he landed, and followed on the track.

While in chase I was joined by an old hunter, who had been out since
day-light, still-hunting (deer-stalking); so he agreed to go with me
and examine the track, which we followed for about half a mile without
seeing any blood. But at last we came to a place where the buck had
stood and pawed up the ground. My companion, remarking upon the
circumstance, said--

"He was quite satisfied the fellow was hit; and you will find," added
he, "if we get him, that he is hit on the top of the back, and that is
the reason there is no blood to be seen."

The track led us round nearly in a circle; for we came back to the
river within a few yards of where I had fired at the buck. My companion
now suggested that we should recross the river and follow up the stream
on the opposite bank. "For," said he, "we shall probably find him on
one of the islands opposite your house."

Acting on his suggestion, we retraced our steps, and found, as he had
predicted, that the buck, after taking the water, had swum up the river
and taken refuge on the west side of the lower island. We saw him
standing near the edge of the water, partially hidden by the trunk of a
fallen pine, when we both fired our rifles at the same instant. This
did not, however, drop him, for he bounded across the island, and took
the opposite channel in gallant style.

As the distance from which we fired was less than a hundred yards, we
concluded that one of us at least had hit him. Reinforced by my old
hound Towler, who, attracted by the firing, had joined us, we recrossed
the river, and put the dog on the track. Towler was in high spirits,
and soon made the wood ring with music pleasant to the hunter's ear.

We momentarily expected to see our quarry again take the water; but
from the continued howling of the hound in the same spot, I began to
think the buck was standing at bay, which was really the case; for on
my near approach he was busily employed with his head down, keeping off
old Towler by making sudden plunges at him every now and then. The
moment he saw me, he made a rush for the river, but as he passed me on
the full bound, I fired at his fore-shoulder; and though he still
continued his course to the river, I knew by the jet of blood which
followed my shot that his fate was sealed. Near the river he made a
sudden turn, striking his head against a hemlock tree, and at the same
instant a shot from my companion stretched him lifeless on the ground.
And thus concluded an exciting chase of more than two hours.

This was the largest buck I ever killed, for he weighed, after he was
skinned and dressed, two hundred and thirty pounds. We found that four
out of the five shots had hit him. The last shot I fired, cut away the
small end of his heart, though he actually managed to run thirty or
forty paces afterwards.

Deer-hunting is a very exciting sport; but I prefer still-hunting (or
deer-stalling, as it is called in the Highlands of Scotland) to driving
them into the lakes and rivers with hounds.

The deer are not now nearly so numerous as they formerly were.
Civilization has driven them back into the unsurveyed lands or less
populated townships. To give my readers some idea how plentiful these
wild denizens of the forest were, some years since, I need only mention
that a Trapper with whom I was acquainted, and four of his companions,
passed my house on a small raft, on which lay the carcasses of thirty-
two deer--the trophies of a fortnight's chase near Stony Lake. The
greater number of these were fine bucks.

I once had seventeen deer hanging up in my barn at one time--the
produce of three days' sport, out of which I had the good fortune to
kill seven. Parties are now made yearly every October to Stony Lake,
Deer Bay, or the River Trent. I do not know anything more pleasant than
these excursions, especially if you have agreeable companions, a warm
camp, and plenty to eat and drink. Indeed, poor hunters must they be
who cannot furnish their camp-larder with wild-ducks and venison. This
is one of the great charms of a Canadian life, particularly to young
sportsmen from the mother-country, who require here neither license nor
qualification to enable them to follow their game; but may rove about
in chase of deer, or other game, at will.

The greatest enemy the deer has to contend with is the wolf. In the
spring of the year, when the snow is in the woods, and a crust is
formed on the surface, the deer are unable to travel any distance, the
snow not being sufficiently hard to bear their weight. Consequently,
great numbers of them are destroyed by their more nimble adversaries,
who from their lighter make and rounder-shaped feet, are able to run on
the top of the crust, which gives the deer but little chance of escape.

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