WANT OF HOME-PASTURAGE IN CANADA.—DANGER OF BEING LOST IN THE
WOODS.—PLAIN DIRECTIONS TO THE TRAVELLER IN THE BUSH.—STORY OF A
SETTLER FROM EMILY.—AN OLD WOMAN’S RAMBLE IN THE WOODS.—ADVENTURE OF A
TRAPPER.—FORTUNATE MEETING WITH HIS PARTNER.
One of the greatest inconveniences belonging to a new settlement, for
the first four or five years, is the want of pasturage for your working
cattle and cows. Consequently, the farmer has to depend entirely on the
Bush for their support, for at least seven months out of the twelve.
The inconvenience does not arise from any want of food; for the woods,
beaver meadows, and the margins of lakes and streams yield an
abundance, and the cattle, towards the fall of the year, are sure to
grow fat. But it is the trouble of seeking for your cattle.
Sometimes, indeed, in the midst of your greatest hurry, your oxen are
nowhere to be found. I have myself often spent two or three days in
succession, searching the woods in vain; and it not unfrequently
happens that, while looking for the strayed beasts, you lose yourself
in the woods.
As we generally carry a gun with us in these excursions, we often fall
in with deer or partridges, which makes the way not only seem less
fatiguing, but even pleasant, unless during the season of musquitoes
and black flies, when rambling through the Bush is no pleasure to any
one.
New-comers are very apt to lose themselves at first, until they get
acquainted with the creeks and ridges; and even then, on a dark day or
during a snow-storm, they are very likely to go astray. If you have no
compass with you, and the sun is obscured, the best way of extricating
yourself is, to observe the moss on the trees, which—not every one
knows—grows more luxuriantly and in greater quantities on the north
side of the tree. It is of little use to look at any tree separately:
this will perhaps only mislead you; but if you observe the general
aspect of the woods around, the indications may be of great service to
you. Towards the north, the trunks of the trees will appear light and
cheerful, while the south side will look dark and spotted. This plan,
however, will only answer amongst hard woods.[1] The ridges mostly run
north-east and south-west, and the swamps parallel with them. Then,
again, in pine woods the general inclination of the timber is from the
north-west. All these indications have been successfully followed, and
should be borne in mind.
[1] Deciduous trees are called hard-wood.
People who lose themselves in the Bush seldom persevere long enough in
any one direction. They fancy they are going wrong, and keep changing
their course; till probably, after four or five hours’ walking, they
find themselves near the spot from whence they started. This has
occurred to me more than once, and I shall relate a melancholy incident
which happened only a few years ago, and which proves what I have just
stated.
The person to whom I allude, resided in the township of Emily, and had
been all the summer working at his trade in the village of Bowmanville,
to earn money sufficient to pay for his land, which he had succeeded by
the fall in doing. As the cold weather had set in, he determined to
return home, and chop all the winter on his farm. He knew that by
crossing the township of Darlington and Manvers in an oblique
direction, twenty-five or six miles in length, he could reach his own
house in half the time, the distance by the road being more than double
that by which he proposed to travel. He therefore determined to try the
short way, although he was well aware that the last eight or ten miles
of his road was through the Bush, with not even a blazed line to guide
him. He was, however, young and active, and moreover considered himself
a good backwoodsman. He started one fine frosty morning early in
December, expecting he should be able to reach his own house sometime
before sundown.
For the first ten or twelve miles he got on pretty well, as he had a
sleigh-track to follow, and as long as the sun shone out he made a good
course. Unfortunately for him, a snow-storm came on and obscured his
only guide. He, however, struggled on manfully through cedar-swamps and
over ridges, with the snow half-way up to his knees, till the approach
of darkness compelled him to look out for some place to shelter him
from the storm, where he might best pass the weary hours of the coming
night.
He selected a dry spot beneath some spreading cedars, and busied
himself as long as daylight lasted in collecting as much fire-wood as
would last till the morning. He then gathered a quantity of
hemlock-brush for his bed, and by breaking off some large limbs from
the surrounding evergreens, succeeded at last in forming a temporary
shelter. For a long time he despaired of getting a fire, till he at
length found some dry cedar-bark, which he finally succeeded in
igniting with a piece of punk,[2] which every backwoodsman carries with
him for that purpose. Though the poor fellow had only taken with him
provisions for a day’s journey, he made a hearty supper, merely
reserving a portion for his breakfast, not suspecting that he should
fail in reaching his destination. He fully expected he should see the
sun in the morning, which would enable him to correct this course; for
he knew that he was in the township of Manvers, and not more than seven
or eight miles from his own home.
[2] A substance obtained from the sugar-maple, similar to German
tinder.
Wearied with his day’s journey, he slept the greater part of the night,
although awakened occasionally by the cold. At such times he would heap
fresh fuel on the fire, and again compose himself to sleep.
To his infinite joy the morning beamed brightly—the sun shone out. With
a light heart and renewed confidence he again shaped his course
eastward, following the direction in which his house lay; and there is
no doubt, had the day remained clear, he would in a few hours have
extricated himself from the dilemma into which he had fallen. His
disappointment was great when he again beheld the sky overcast, and the
snow falling thickly around him. He pushed on, however, bravely, till
at length a thick cedar-swamp lay before him. For some time he
travelled along its edge, in the hope of finding a narrow spot to
cross, but in this he was disappointed, so he determined to attempt the
passage. He fully believed, once on the other side, he should know the
face of the country, from his having so often hunted game, or searched
for his cattle in that direction.
For fully an hour he pressed on through a complete thicket of cedar;
but it was all random work, for the evergreens were so loaded with
snow, that it was quite impossible to go one hundred yards in a
straight course. At last he saw the tops of hard-wood trees before him,
which again revived his sinking spirits, for he thought he had crossed
the swamp. Alas, poor fellow! he was mistaken. He had come out on the
very side by which he had entered it, but of this he was not aware at
the time. He, however, wondered that he did not recognize any part of
the ground he was travelling over.
At length, to his great joy, he came upon the fresh track of a man,
which he had no doubt belonged to some person, who was then out from
the settlement, still hunting;[3] for he knew that Manvers was the most
celebrated township for deer in the Newcastle District. As he observed
that the footprints were going in a contrary direction to what he was,
this circumstance gave him increased confidence. Two or three times,
however, he thought some of the small swamps and ridges looked vastly
like what he had traversed in the early part of the day. At last, about
an hour before dark, he saw a thin wreath of blue smoke in a thicket
before him. Judge of his disappointment and dismay, when, on his nearer
approach, he found he had actually followed his own track, which had
brought him back to the spot where he had passed the night. To describe
his feelings on this occasion would be difficult and painful. He
thought of his wife and his young children, who were hourly expecting
his return, and who had, no doubt, prepared some little treat to
welcome the wanderer home.
[3] Canadian term for deer-stalking.
Bitter were his reflections during the waking hours of that long night!
Hungry, tired, and unrefreshed, the morning’s light saw him struggling
through the snow, but whither he knew not; for though it had ceased
snowing, the sky was still overcast, and continued so till the middle
of the afternoon, when the wind suddenly veered round to the
north-west, attended with intense cold. He now renewed every effort;
for once or twice he thought he heard the sounds of civilized life—the
distant supper-horn or cattle-bell—but the fierce howling of the wind,
which blew half a gale, rendered his hearing indistinct.
As long as daylight lasted he dragged on his wearied limbs, till utter
exhaustion and coming darkness rendered his further progress
impossible. To add to his misfortune, on attempting to kindle a fire,
he found that his punk was damp, from the snow having come in contact
with it when pressing his way through the swamp. He now gave himself up
for lost, for the night was extremely cold, and he had neither fire to
warm him, nor roof to shelter his head. To sleep thus he knew was
certain death. He therefore paced up and down as long as he was able to
stand, but his boots were frozen stiff, and his feet numb with the
cold. After great difficulty he managed to pull off his boots, and
having wrapped up his feet in his woollen cap, he lay down on the path
he bad beaten in the snow, for he could no longer resist the
inclination to sleep.
While in the act of lying down, he distinctly heard a cock crow at no
great distance. By a great effort he roused himself, and called as
loudly as he was able. Once he thought he heard an answer to his
cry—again the horn seemed to ring in his ears,—and then all was blank.
At daylight he was found by some of his own neighbours; one of whom was
up early in the morning feeding his oxen, preparatory to a journey to
the front, when he heard the shouts, which sounded to him like those of
some person in distress. He immediately blew his dinner horn, that the
sound might guide the lost person, and having collected three or four
of his neighbours, they started into the woods in the direction from
whence the shouts of the lost man had proceeded. Half a mile from the
clearing, they came across his track, which they only followed for a
few yards, when to their surprise they found their poor neighbour, whom
at first they concluded to be dead. It was some time indeed before they
could wake him, so overpowered was he with fatigue and the death-like
sleep he had fallen into.
His friends lost no time in carrying him home; but unfortunately they
placed him near a large fire, instead of rubbing his hands and feet
with snow. The too sudden reaction of the blood caused him the most
excruciating agony, for both his hands and feet were badly frozen. At
length Dr. Hutchinson[4] was sent for from Peterborough, who found
mortification had commenced, and that there was no chance of the poor
fellow’s recovery which proved too true, for he expired the next day, a
week from the morning he was found.
[4] Dr. Hutchinson, is a medical practitioner of great note, and one
of the first settlers and oldest magistrates in that section of the
country. I had the particulars of this story from him; though, as it
was some years ago, I may have made some mistake as to the exact
locality.
He, however, died in the arms of his afflicted wife, and was surrounded
by his family, a privilege purchased at the expense of severe pain, but
still one to the husband and father—even though he had been snatched
from his pangless death-sleep to possess it, poor fellow!
The mischances consequent upon being lost in the woods, which were so
frequent in the early settlement of Western Canada, are of rare
occurrence now. Since, roads have been cut, and the clearings have
brought the Bush-settlers nearer together. In my young time I have
often searched for missing persons, and indeed have sometimes been lost
myself.
I remember, the first summer I passed in Canada, making one of a party,
who were for eight days looking for an old woman nearly eighty years of
age, and her little grandson, who were lost in the Bush.
The old lady was going by a foot-path across a piece of woodland
between her son-in-law’s house and a neighbour’s, which, by-the-by,
were almost within sight of each other. The little boy, it seems, ran a
short distance off the path to gather some wild-flowers, and was
followed by his grandmother, who, either from her defectiveness of
sight, or, more probably, from having crossed without perceiving it,
was, unable to regain the track. Her friends finding that she did not
return, went over to their neighbour’s house to see if she was there;
but they only learned that neither she nor her grandson had found their
way thither. Search was instantly made till night came on, but without
success.
The next day, all their friends and neighbours turned out, myself among
the number, to search for the unfortunate woman and the boy. We
concluded, from her advanced age and the tender years of the child,
that they could not be very far off; consequently we confined our
search for several days within a radius of two or three miles.
On the fifth day, tracks were discovered near the edge of a small
creek, which from being the prints of a small and large foot, left no
doubt as to whom they belonged. Strange as it may appear, this was the
only sure indication of the lost ones that we had yet seen. No further
trail was seen till the evening of the seventh day, when fresh signs
were found. Our party therefore determined to camp out all night, and
follow these new indications early in the morning, which object they
succeeded in effecting. The lost ones were then found, and both were
discovered alive.
The old woman had suffered the most; but the two had sustained
themselves by eating roots and beech-mast: the little boy was quite
frightened when he saw the men coming, and hid himself; such were the
consequences of solitude and privation on his mind.
The place where they were found was in the township of Beach, at least
fourteen miles due east from the place where they were lost; and it is
more than probable, in their wanderings, that they had more than
doubled that distance—a most extraordinary circumstance, when the ages
of the parties are considered.
About three years since, two young men, with whom I was well
acquainted, went back into the uninhabited township of Methuen, to trap
for fur, and hunt deer. They set a line of marten-traps,[5] extending
upwards of three miles. One or other of them used to go every alternate
morning, to examine these traps—to re-set any that were sprung; and
bring back to their camp any furry animal that might chance to be
captured.
[5] The method pursued by the trappers and Indians is to blaze a line
through the bush for several miles. Along this line is set, at
intervals of one or two hundred yards, a kind of trap, called a dead
fall, which is constructed thus:—Two rows of short sticks are driven
into the ground about one foot apart, open only at one end, the top
being covered with brush-wood at the entrance. A piece of wood two or
three feet long is bedded into the ground, or snow, as the case may
be. The falling pole is supported immediately over this by three
pieces of stick notched together in the form of a figure of four. The
centre-piece is made long and sharp at the point, to which the bait is
attached, and projects well into the miniature house. The marten or
fisher, allured by the bait, reaches in to snatch it, which springs
the trap, and causes the pole to fall across the neck of the animal,
which is instantly killed by the blow.
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”[6] some little
distance a-head.
[6] 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.