1974

Cemeteries

Our own local cemeteries always are of interest. I have heard several people who once lived in this area remark that they felt more at home walking around amid the headstones, as there were so many of their friends there.

I think the first graves I saw besides the regular places, were on the Petawawa River in Algonquin Park. I believe the first log drives went down that river about 1890, perhaps a few years before. There are many chutes and dams, and with the rush of water in the spring they were quite dangerous. At nearly every such place there were one or two graves. It was not possible to get the bodies out, as there were no roads or railroads, so the poor victims were just buried where they were found. I believe the most graves were at Lake Trevair, as there was a bad stretch of water just above it.

At Radiant, miles further down river, there is a small graveyard among the pine trees. It appears some kind hearted man, who had a son killed in World War One, had been trying to get as many of these unfortunate young men re-interred in this little cemetery in memory of his son. Such a beautiful spot for a last resting place.

One winter I bought furs for a company in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, and the last trip in the spring was up the Montreal River, then over to the Batchawana, up that one to the headwaters, then over to the White, and back down to the Montreal, and on down to the A.C.R. (Algoma Central Railway?) Perhaps ten days. Lots of new country, many beautiful falls, and lots of fish, that is if you call pike and pickerel fish. We met a lot of Indian trappers, and had a good load of fur. This was in 1922, and only a few years after the terrible flu epidemic that took so many lives.

On the way back down the river I noticed many graves. The young Cree travelling with me explained that all the deaths had happened during that time. Most of the graves were well tended. Once we were ashore and took pictures, as there was a good sized headstone there. The only inscription was simply “Maggie”, and the date of her death. Her age was given as eighteen. But if this headstone, which must have weighed close to three hundred pounds, came in by canoe it would mean two or three days of upstream paddling, plus some hard portages. By dog team it was two days to the nearest lumber camp. But it was there, and a string of prayer beads.

In Eastern Ontario, for want of a better name we’ll call it Rat Creek, a new settlement sprang up and with it a new church. These God fearing people were hard working who had no time to get sick. Children born there were healthy and the little graveyard had no takers. But some of the more religious members thought their church would not be complete until the burial grounds had been consecrated. But they needed a grave. They wanted to see the place where they expected to be buried all properly prepared before it came their time.

Then it was announced that a dignitary of the church was to make a visit, and it was thought that this would be the proper time to do everything up properly. So after much discussion, names were put in a hat, and one was drawn.

I would think that Rat Creek, as I have called it, was the only place in Ontario where they had to hit a man over the head with a club to start the graveyard.

The Long Drive

In most of all the stories about Algonquin Park mention is made of the famous and unusual log drive, when the Gilmore Lumber Company drove pine logs all the way from their limits in said Park to their sawmill at Trenton. The operation was a costly one, but the length of the drive, meaning the distance from the standing timber to the sawmill, made it the topic for conversation for many years when the subject of log drives was mentioned.

This could not be considered the greatest distance logs have been taken by water to a mill. Just about that same time an American company had cutting rights to a tract of timber in Butt Township in Nipissing District. These logs, and many of them large ones, were driven all the way down the Magnetawan River to Byng Inlet, then boomed and towed to Bay City, Michigan. I saw a record where it stated that on one of the drives the logs averaged a bit over five hundred board feet per log. Even with the log rule used in those days, it meant for quite large logs. But we were supposed to be writing about the drive to Trenton.

What did make this drive unusual was that logs were taken on three different waterways. Since the headquarters was at Canoe Lake and the camps in that area, it meant that the first river was the Oxtongue. Next would come the Black River, and finally the Gull River waters the rest of the way to Trenton.

My father worked in one of the camps the first winter, in fact the first two winters. The camp he was in was built right beside where the dam is at the foot of Joe Lake. Gilmore’s had a reserve dam there when they were cutting logs, and it was still standing when I was there first in 1914. At that time, too, the foundations of the old camps were easily distinguished, as they had not all rotted away.

I should have mentioned the great numbers of pine trees that were there. When I was first there fires had burned away the slash, and the new growth had not hidden the stumps, and what a pine forest it must have been! Dad has told us several times that in the two winters he worked there they did not get far enough from the camp to make it necessary to carry a lunch. Easier to walk back to camp. Too, I have been told that this was one of the first operations where they did not use oxen. Only horses.

For quite a few years after I began to work in the Park, the old camps were still standing. Believe there were eleven camps in all, and these were grouped in an area that now would be handled by perhaps only one. But apparently the men in charge wanted plenty of logs, so plenty of camps.

The foreman in the camp where dad worked was Con O’Donnell, who later lived at Kearney, and I went to school with his children. I do not believe he followed the drive, though his brother Martin O’Donnell, was one of the men in charge of the drive.

My father could not recall the names of all the foremen at the different camps. Besides Con O’Donnell, he remembered Joe and Hugh McCormick, John Hicky, Joe Cox, Jim Chambers, Ed Casijean, and Sam Gunther, a son of the Walking Boss, P.M.Gunther. He did not say for certain that Ed Cassidy was a camp foreman, but he was head man in charge of the drive. Many people will still remember Ed Cassidy. He had a service station just north or east of the swing bridge in Huntsville, and for a number of years was a fur buyer.

Logs were cut in the woods much later in the spring then. No doubt because of the short haul to water. Many of the men stayed in camp after cutting finished, as it was a long way home, and the drive would start as soon as weather and ice permitted. A thaw did come fairly early, but cold weather returned, and it looked like the spring flood would get away before the lakes were clear of ice. So, as a matter of necessity, the ice on Potter Lake was dynamited so the logs could get started on their long journey.

At Canoe Lake the drive merged with the logs coming down from Joe Lake, and at Tea Lake with the logs from Smoke Lake. The rest of the drive to Lake of Bays and Dorset was uneventful.

A mile south of Dorset the lumber company had built an endless chain, something in same style as the jack ladder used on many mills to lift logs from the water into the mill. From the top of the hill the logs went in a trough for a mile, and then an endless chain put the logs into Raven Lake and into the Black River, and on into Hollow Lake. The Hollow Lake was damned to raise the water higher, and a trench dug in one of the lower spots so water and logs could go through a swamp to Harvey’s Marsh, and a canal dug from there to St. Norah’s Lake. The rest of the way was, as I said, all Gull River waters.

The drive only got as far as Healy Falls, near Campbellford, and stopped on October 1^st. Dad also worked in the camps and on the drive the second year, but while they had the experience of the first year to help, water was bad, and the drive stopped on October 13^th at Lakefield. This was a bad year, as they had a heavy fall of snow, twenty-two inches, at Fenelon Falls early in October, and the men often worked in frozen clothes.

One thing Dad mentioned was that there was good food, and plenty of it. And most of the way the cook camp must have been built on a raft or crib.

The man in charge of the alligator, or steam scow, was named Puffer. These craft could tow themselves across land, if necessary, to the next navigable water. The top wages was $28.00 per month, which included board.

Apparently there was a third cut, and a third drive, in which my father did not take part, and this drive did make Rice Lake the first year. But in the three drives, no logs reached the mill the first year.

Just about that time the Canada Atlantic Railroad was built by J.R.Booth, the famous lumberman, and Gilmore’s built a sawmill at Canoe Lake. But this, too, was costly, as it was over a mile from the railroad, and a long siding had to be built. Then it was discovered that the quality of the pine was not good. Rot had begun to show in most of the trees, and that meant for low-grade lumber. And with the heavy operating cost, returns did not allow for producing low-grade lumber, and operations ceased early in this century.

When I first worked in the Park in 1914 there was still a lot of talk about then wasted pine lumber, and how three-inch boards, called ‘deal’, had been used to fill in wet places in order to pile lumber.

Hard to understand why the pine would be such poor quality. The Huntsville Lumber Company also used Canoe Lake as headquarters just a few years later, and the logs they cut were driven to Huntsville. Much of the timber, instead of being poor quality, was used for square timber, and such timbers would only be accepted if they were number one pine.    

Too, at about that time, the first lumbermen were cutting pine in Proudfoot Township, and I have been told that the pine those early cutters took was about the finest that was found anywhere in Ontario. So it is hard to understand why the pine the Gilmore’s cut produced poor grade lumber.

I worked along the railroad east of Canoe Lake in the summer of 1914. There is a creek, not too large, that follows the R.R., or perhaps the R.R. follows the creek. The creek rises is a few marshy ponds, perhaps two or three miles from Canoe Lake. This creek has been improved, no doubt for a log drive, as there were several dams, all with sluiceways. Noone could tell me anything about any drive on that creek, but it looked like the lumbermen in those days did not like to haul logs any distance if they could be transported by water.

Just a bit of humour in all this. On the first drive my Dad, who was twenty-one at the time, and some of his buddies around the same age discovered a nice apple orchard, and since it was just about picking time they decided they should have some. One thing, before they really got started they met the owner, who gave them quite a lecture about stealing apples, and I believe even complained to the foreman. I was never told if there was a penalty.

Years later my father met a school teacher, and they were married. But you can imagine my father’s surprise and perhaps embarrassment when he went to claim his bride at her father’s home, to find that his future father-in-law was the same man who had given him such a hard time when he was caught stealing apples.

The dates and names I got from my father a few years before he died. Perhaps if I had thought of it years ago I might have been given more information. But it was quite an adventure, going from Dorset, no doubt staying at the half-way house at Hardwood Lake (walking) and next day making camp. All winter with only the same crew, balsam brush beds, ten hours a day, six days a week. Guess they made a better breed of men then. But in all the drives and other operations in the woods, the Gilmore drive will have to be just about the most unusual in the history of logging.

IT WAS GOOD VENISON

In one of the recent magazines that I have read, there was quite an article on archery hunting. Over the years I have met a number of men who like to hunt with a bow and arrow, and it is surprising just how much game is killed in this way. With game as scarce as it is now, the chances of killing a deer or moose in the way the natives did years ago is rather slim, but the dedicated bow hunter keeps on trying. There are areas where deer are plentiful, and I understand there is a short season for archers previous to the season when rifles and guns may be used. This not only in the country to the south. I mean about bow hunting. Years ago a hunt camp at Restoule hunted with bows the first week, also the second if luck was good, and only reverted to rifles if deer were needed. I watched one of the hunters once at the archery range at the Sportsman’s Show, and I have seen deer missed at closer distances than he was hitting a much smaller target.

But this latest article stirred up a bit of memory, going back to the First World War. That summer was the only time I helped get a deer with an arrow, this in the summer of 1918.

We were camped on one of the larger lakes, quite a large party on a two-week fishing and camping trip. We had plenty of time, and had decided to stay on this lake a few days. Then another party arrived, and camped on a point not far away. Each party had three guides. In the other party there was a boy of my own age, also a guide, and we were very good friends, as were the other guides. Fishing was good, and we were having nice weather. One afternoon late my friend paddled over and asked me if I would like to earn five dollars. One of the men in his party had offered him ten dollars if he would get a deer. Deer were very plentiful then. He told me one of the party had an automatic pistol which we could use. All I had to do was paddle the canoe and hold the flashlight. So that night we slipped away, and paddled a short distance to a marsh. There were several deer we got close to, but all too large for our purpose. The we saw one that looked alright, and I feathered the canoe quite close. My friend was not used to such a firearm, and when he pulled the trigger it kicked down, even to put a hole in the front of the canoe, which accident the man who rented the canoe never did get the facts. But that ended the hunt, and we were not allowed to use the pistol again. But we wanted that ten dollars. Also we wanted to prove to the older guides we could get a deer.

Next day we visited an old logging camp, and found a couple of small files, which we heated to draw the temper. Then we found a grindstone, and sharpened them like two-edge daggers all this under my friend’s direction. Then a piece of good hardwood for a bow, and split out some straight cedar for arrows. No trouble picking up large feathers.

I did very little of the work as my friend, an Algonquin from Golden Lake, seemed to know just what to do. But we came up with two well-balanced arrows, but due to scarcity of arrows he could not do much practising.

But that night we tried again. Again, of course, I was the paddlers, and we passed up several deer, but finally we could see that one was a small spike buck. So I tried to keep the light in his eyes and paddle at the same time while in the bow my pal had his weapon shafted and ready. The deer stood a bit sideways watching the light approach, and we got within fifteen feet of the deer. Then I saw the arm draw the arrow back, and since it was so close we could see the arrow had hit almost dead centre. The animal ran a short distance, the water about a foot deep, and then collapsed.

It took only a few minutes to remove the entrails, working from the canoe, and since we did not want to get a canoe bloody we towed it the mile back to camp. Some of the party were a bit excited, couple of the older guides gave us a bit of a talking to for killing a deer, both out of season and in the Park, but when the deer was cut up (such steaks and roasts) I noticed they ate as much as anyone. One party had nine people, all adults, so a small deer didn’t last long. And it was a very agreeable change from trout, which we had been eating twice a day for over a week. To top it off, we each received ten dollars, which at that time was quite a bonus.

 

DEER

By far the greatest number of the men who go into the woods in the fall are more interested in a day or week in the woods rather than bringing out dead animals and birds to prove their prowess. I think everyone wants to see a least a little game, and of course enough for a few meals. But the days when hunting meant bringing out a lot of game are gone.

Since 1915 I have taken part in those hunts, and almost every camp had their count. We had the bad winter of 1922-23 when many deer perished, and then without warning what were left disappeared. In the early thirties they began to come back. There was a slight decline in 1942, but from then on hunting got better every year, in spite of the great increase in the number of hunters. Then those two bad winters, 1959-60, 1960-61, and the deer herd took a nosedive. From this they have not recovered. The reason is not hunting. Hunters’ success, I believe, in 1973 was around 5%. Many hunters blame it all on the wolves but many of us have the opinion that there is some other reason.

Last winter’s estimate of deer in Algonquin Park was 2600. In 1969, the estimate was 7900. Incredible as it seems today, it is said that one ranger shot 100 deer during two months casual hunting in 1917 when Algonquin deer were being used to alleviate war-time meat shortages in southern Ontario.

Rae Runge of the University of Waterloo spent 2 years studying why deer are on the decline in Algonquin Park. To many people, the most startling fact to emerge is that deer were very rare, if not totally absent here before the 1800’s. Archaeological studies reveal no deer bones in Indian campsites, and while early explorers referred to caribou, they do not mention seeing any deer in our area. The reason for the deer’s absence was the rarity of suitably extensive areas of young forest growth which deer need for food. The old forests were simply too mature, and the thick canopies blocking off light which could have promoted the growth of shrubs and other deer food- if it had been able to reach the ground. Natural disturbances such as wind and insect outbreaks did not occur frequently enough to open up the forest and although perhaps a dozen lightning fires started every year, they didn’t burn well enough in our hardwood forests to destroy them and create good deer range.

All this changed in the 1800’s with the arrival of the loggers. The “shantymen” not only cut down trees but they also left a lot of highly flammable debris. Add to this the fact that the loggers started fires accidentally and the Park area soon had more and much bigger fires- fires that devastated considerable areas of Algonquin. We often think of fires as the deadly enemy of wildlife, but if deer could talk they would tell you just the opposite. Here in the Park they demonstrated this by moving into the new environment and thriving as never before in the young forests springing up in the ashes of the old.

Big fires continued to produce good future deer habitat long after the park was created with an average of 25 square miles being burned every year between 1921 (when accurate records began to be kept) and 1936. After this date, however, more men, planes and other efficient means of fire-fighting came into operation with the result that the average area burned each year dropped to less than two square miles.

You often hear it suggested that the virtual disappearance of fire may not be all that important because we still have logging and it to creates openings in the forest which encourage new growth for deer. But Rae has found typical logged areas (with only scattered big trees removed) produce only about 7,000 stems of new growth per acre, while severe burns produce as much as 24,000 stems per acre. What’s more. The aim of most modern forest management is to grow new trees as quickly as possible, so the new trees in a logged area should grow out of deer’s reach much faster than they did in the old burns (where competing shrubs slowed down the growth of new trees).

The upshot of all this is that modern forest management and the virtual elimination of fires have combined to transform the scrubby forests of 60 years ago where deer abounded, back to a condition more like the original one – where there were very few deer or none at all. The heyday of deer is over. But all is not lost; moose are increasing and who knows? – perhaps someday we can bring back the caribou.

Some areas have a few moose, but there will be so many hunters that not one in ten will get a moose. One reason is that there are not enough moose for all the hunters who will purchase licenses. Another reason is that for a couple of miles along the Park boundary the moose get a bit upset at all the noise and activity and head for the Park where it is quiet. This has happened almost every fall there has been an open season for moose. So the Park is really doing a service in helping to save a few moose.

Since I have my sixtieth deer license in my pocket the memories go back quite a ways. There were not so many hunters, and one camp did not hunt in the territory that was claimed by another camp. Hunters all came by train, and it was old home week on the train for the last few miles. Deer were quite plentiful during and following world war one. Then the deer left, and for a few years, (1927-1931) there was very poor hunting. But they came back, and from the late thirties until 1960 we had excellent hunting. Then those two bad winters, the heavy die off, and they did not appear to be recovering.

But it is the change in the woods that is noticeable. Since the railroad was abandoned, and the steel lifted, and we have had a road, the number of hunters has greatly increased. That means more men in the woods, and since it is all crown lands, one person has as much right as another, if properly licensed. Some of the camps still sort of respect hunting rights, but the public as a whole just hunts anywhere. Sort of spoils the niceness of the woods when so many people and cars are along the road. In all the years I have hunted in McCraney Township there have only been two such accidents, one in 1918, the other in 1936. Two hunters have died in the woods, both with heart seizures.

The change in the woods has had an effect on trapping. Not so much in the number of animals, but in the difference in the set up. Years ago when we went in on the train, hitched a ride on the gas car, or failing either of these, walked, the woods seemed sort of private and unspoiled. Ponds, creeks and hills looked the same each fall, as nothing had happened to make a change. The nicest part of the trapping season was just getting back to the woods, and visiting all the places, lakes, etc. and find them as they were when last seen. Trapping was all walking, and a lot of work, but it was worth the effort to have the woods the same each year.

Then came the lumbermen, with roads where ever there was timber. This has meant for much easier work and less effort getting around the trap lines. Trucks before the snow comes, then the snowmobiles. Instead of doing a lot of skinning back in the woods, and at times it was very cold, the animals can be brought to camp and the work done inside a warm camp. And certainly a trapper can cover a lot more territory much quicker with a vehicle, either fall or winter than could be done by foot.

The lumbering, at least in my area, has had little if any effect on the fur. There have been instances where beaver dams have been dynamited to protect roads, and places a lot of slash. But very little interference with trapping. Too, the presence of men working in the woods at times has been very helpful, when something goes wrong.

Trouble is, the primitive, isolated feeling that one had years ago is gone. Instead of the feeling that the woods were your own, now there are numbers of hunters and others just looking for something to see in the woods. Everybody is nice, and it is fine talking to them. What was the line from ‘The Passing of Arthur?’

“And slowly answered Arthur from the barge – The Old Order Changeth, Yielding Place to New.”

CONTROLLED HUNTING?

Any person who has talked with deer hunters would know that the deer count gets lower every succeeding year. Many so called nature lovers place all the blame on the hunters, and they would like to see all hunting stopped. Many contend that the use of dogs is another reason for deer scarcity. Others blame the beaver and then there is the dyed in the wool wolf haters. Hunter success for the fall of 1973 would be about the lowest on record.

Mark Twain once wrote that everyone complains about the weather, but noone does anything about it. This might apply to the deer hunt. Odd, but the great majority of hunters did not seem to think they had to have a deer to take home to have a good hunt. They all wanted to go into the woods with their own crowd, enjoy life in such a setting, and have a chance to see or get a shot at a deer. Some of the men thought perhaps we should stop hunting for a few years and give the deer a chance to make a comeback. Along with the provision that the Department gets rid of the predators, as it is not much sense stopping hunting when other killers operate all year long. Some suggested a split with hunters only allowed to hunt for one week. Most only take a week anyway. So perhaps we should start thinking about some sort of controlled hunting for at least some part of the province.

For the registered camps it would not be so hard, for they come every year. It would be hard to control the transient hunters. I will stick my neck out and suggest what might work. 

First, estimate how many hunters there should be in any one area at one time, taking into consideration the registered camps that have been there for years. It would almost mean one week of hunting in a lot of places. Like Newfoundland where draws are made for designated areas, it would be first come first served. Some will want to abolish all camp leases and it may come to that. But for better hunting we need change.

Forty years ago when we were trying to get the crown land put into zones for trapping we were told it would not work. But it did and the trapping set up in Ontario is admitted to be the best in North America. When this is mentioned at hunting conferences we are told it is a different set up. It can only help, as the deer hunting cannot get much poorer.

MOOSE

At the end of the first week twenty-five moose were taken in that portion of McCraney Township that is not in Algonquin Park. The whole of that area is just over thirty square miles. Years ago hunters shot only bulls (Yes, they still shoot a lot of it). Hunters are numerous. In the nine registered camps there are anywhere from 80-100 hunters. On one logging road I counted 42 cars of transient hunters. Safe to say there were close to 200 extra hunters in that small area.

Biologists tell us that if the deer get plentiful some disease they transmit to moose will mean another moose die off as we had in the late thirties.

Played cards one evening at another camp. The four of us had a total of $112.00 worth of hunting licenses and the combined total for us was three partridge. That cost is even higher than the current beef prices. Noone was complaining too much. But we’ll be back in 1975.

It shows on the books that at least 80% of the game was taken by transient hunters. Guess they have more ambition. Let’s hope that those few who delight in bothering traps will have a change of mind.