Olive A. Fredrickson wrote six tales for Outdoor Life about her life as a homesteader, trapper, and subsistence hunter in Canada. Eventually, she turned her experiences right into a novel, The Silence of the North, which was co-written with former OL employees author Ben East and in the end made right into a film in 1981. This was her first journal story, printed in 1967 beneath the title “I Had To Have Moose.”
THE CANOE WAS a 30-foot dugout that the native tribe had given me on credit score. They’d be alongside within the fall to assert fee in potatoes.
It had been hollowed out from an enormous cottonwood with a hand ax, however the tree wasn’t straight to start with, and the canoe had inherited the character of its mother or father. Otherwise they might not have parted with it. As a outcome it was not solely heavy and unwieldy but additionally so cranky you hardly dared to look over the facet except your hair was parted within the center.
I used to be within the stern, paddling. My six-year-old daughter Olive was wedged firmly within the bow. Between us have been Vala, 5, and the child, Louis, two. We have been going moose searching, and since there was nobody to depart the kids with, we’d need to go as a household.
We weren’t trying to find enjoyable. It was early summer time, and the crop of greens I had planted in our backyard was rising, however there was nothing prepared to be used but, and we have been out of meals.
The moose season wouldn’t open till fall, however at the moment British Columbia sport laws allowed a prospector to get a allow and kill a moose any time he wanted one for meals. I used to be not a prospector and, anyway, I had no means to enter city for the allow except I walked 27 miles every means. But my infants and I have been as hungry as any prospector would ever be, and we needed to have one thing to eat. I used to be certain the nice Lord would forgive me, and I hoped the sport warden would too, if he discovered about it.
So one sizzling, windless July day—shortly earlier than my twenty-eighth birthday—when fly season was getting actual dangerous, I known as the kids collectively.
“We’ve got to go try to kill a moose,” I mentioned. I knew the moose can be coming all the way down to the river on that type of day to rid themselves of flies and mosquitoes.
I had by no means shot a moose, however necessity is the mom of quite a lot of new experiences, and I made a decision I might do all of it proper if I obtained the prospect. I obtained Olive and Louis and Vala prepared, loaded them into the large clumsy canoe, and poked 4 shells into my previous .30/30 Winchester Model 94. I jacked one into the chamber, put the hammer on half cock, and began upstream towards the quiet present of the Stuart River.
It was slightly greater than a yr after the June day in 1928 when a neighbor, Jack Hamilton, had come to our lonely homestead 40 miles down the Stuart from Fort St. James, within the mountain nation of central British Columbia. He had a telegram for me from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police at Edmonton, and needed to break the information that my husband, Walter Reamer, a trapper, had drowned in Leland Lake on the Alberta–Northwest Territories border. Walter’s canoe had tipped over in a heavy windstorm.
That was nearly 40 years in the past, however I nonetheless keep in mind elevating my hand to my eyes to wipe away the fog that all of the sudden clouded them and Hamilton main me to a chair by the kitchen desk.
“You’d better sit down, Mrs. Reamer,” he mentioned.
I appeared round at my three kids. Olive, then solely 5 years previous, stood wide-eyed, not fairly taking all of it in. Vala was enjoying along with her little white kitten, and Louis lay on his again, reaching for his toes. What was to develop into of them and me?
Olive leaned her head towards my skirt and commenced to cry softly for her daddy, and I felt a lump in my chest that made it arduous to breathe. But that was not the time for tears. If I cried, I’d do it out of the kids’s sight. “Will you be all right?” Jack Hamilton requested earlier than he left.
“I’ll be all right,” I advised him firmly.
All proper? I questioned. I used to be 26 and a homesteader-trapper’s widow with three little kids, 160 acres of brush-grown land, nearly none of it cleared, a small log home—and valuable little else.
That was simply earlier than the beginning of the nice melancholy, the interval that Canadians of my technology nonetheless name the soiled thirties. There was no allowance for dependent kids then. I knew I might get a small sum of reduction cash every month, perhaps about $12 for the 4 of us, however I didn’t dare to ask for it.
Olive and Louis had been born in Canada, however Vala had been born within the United States, as had I. I used to be afraid that if I appealed for assist, Vala or I or each of us is perhaps despatched again to that nation. In the very first hours of my grief and loneliness, I vowed I’d by no means let that occur, it doesn’t matter what. It was the 4 of us alone now, to battle the world of privation and starvation, however not less than we’d keep collectively.
My father had been a trapper, and my mom had died after I was eight. We had been a cheerful household, however at all times poor people with no cash to talk of. And after I married Walter, his trapline didn’t herald a lot. I had by no means recognized something however a tough life, however now I used to be grateful for it. I knew I used to be extra as much as the hardships that lay forward than most girls can be.
I don’t suppose I appeared the half. Please don’t get the concept I used to be a backwoods frump, untidy and slovenly. I used to be small, 5 toes two, and weighed 112, all good stable muscle. And if I do say it, after I had the right garments on and was out dancing, I might compete with the most effective of them in appears.
There have been quite a lot of moose round our homestead, some deer, black bears, wolves, rabbits, grouse, fox, mink, and muskrat. I made a decision I’d develop into a hunter and trapper alone.
We had slightly cash available to purchase meals with. We had no horses, however I dug potatoes, raked hay—did no matter I might for our few neighbors to pay for using a workforce. By the subsequent spring, I had managed to clear the comb and bushes from a couple of acres of fine land.
Olive was housekeeper, prepare dinner, and baby-sitter whereas I labored outdoors. I planted a vegetable backyard and began a hay meadow. I hunted grouse and rabbits, and neighbors helped out the primary winter by giving us moose meat. We managed to eke out a residing. It was all arduous work, day in and day trip, dragging myself off to mattress when darkish got here and crawling out at daylight to start one other day. But not less than my infants and I had one thing to eat.
Then, in July of 1929, our meals gave out. I couldn’t convey myself to go deeper in debt to my neighbors, and in desperation I made a decision on the out-of-season moose hunt. With the few odds and ends we had left, we might make out on moose meat till the backyard stuff began to ripen.
We hadn’t gone far up the Stuart within the cranky dugout earlier than I started to see moose tracks alongside shore and worn moose paths main all the way down to the river. Then we rounded a bend, and an enormous cow moose was standing out on a grassy level, dunking her ungainly head and arising with mouthfuls of weeds.
I didn’t need to kill a cow and perhaps depart a calf to starve, however I don’t suppose I used to be ever extra tempted in my life than I used to be proper then. That massive animal meant meat sufficient to final us the remainder of the summer time, and by canning it I might maintain each pound from spoiling. I paddled quietly forward, whispering warnings to the children to take a seat nonetheless and maintain quiet. The nearer I obtained, the extra I wished that moose. She lastly noticed us and appeared our means whereas I wrestled with my conscience.
I’ll by no means know what the end result would have been, for concerning the time I used to be getting close to sufficient to shoot, Olive set free a squeal of pure delight, and I noticed slightly red-brown calf elevate up out of the tall grass. That settled it.
The kids all talked directly, and the cow grunted to her teenager and waded out, able to swim the river. We have been solely 200 toes away at that time, and rapidly she determined she didn’t like us there. Her ears went again, the hair on her shoulders stood up, and her grunts took on a really unfriendly tone. I caught my paddle into the mud and waited, questioning simply what I’d do if she got here for us.
There was no probability I might maneuver that cumbersome dugout out of her means. But I quieted the kids with a pointy warning, and after a minute the cow led her calf into deep water they usually struck out for the other facet of the river. I sighed with reduction after they waded ashore and walked up a moose path out of sight.
A half mile farther up the river we landed. I took Louis piggyback and carried my gun, and the 4 of us walked very quietly over a grassy level the place I assumed moose is perhaps feeding. We didn’t see any, and now the children started to complain that they have been getting terrible hungry. I used to be hungry, too. We sat down on the financial institution to relaxation, and I noticed a superb rainbow trout swimming in shallow water.
I at all times carried a couple of flies and fishhooks in my hatband, and I tied a fly to a size of string and threw it out, utilizing the string as a handline. The trout took the fly on concerning the fifth toss, and I hauled it in. I fished slightly longer and caught two pikeminnow, and we hit again to the canoe.
I constructed a hearth and broiled the rainbow and one of many pikeminnow on sticks. The youngsters divided the trout, and I ate the pikeminnow. As a rule pikeminnow have a muddy taste, and I had actually caught these two for pet food. But that one tasted all proper to me.
Just a little farther up the Stuart, we got here on two yearling mule deer with stubby spikes of antlers within the velvet. They watched us from a lower financial institution however spooked and disappeared into the comb quickly after I noticed them. Just a little later the identical factor occurred with two bull moose. They noticed us and bumped into the willows whereas I used to be reaching for my gun. I used to be so disillusioned and discouraged I wished to bawl.
That made 4 moose we had seen, counting the calf, with out getting a shot, and I made a decision that killing one was going to be rather a lot tougher than I had thought. And my arms have been so drained from paddling the heavy dugout that they felt able to drop out of the sockets.
I had introduced a .22 alongside, in addition to the .30/30, and a short time after that I used it to shoot a grouse that was watching us from the financial institution.
I had about given up all hope of getting a moose and was prepared to show again for the lengthy paddle house after I noticed what appeared just like the again of 1, standing nearly submerged within the shade of some cottonwoods up forward.
I shushed the children and eased the canoe on for a greater look, and certain sufficient, I used to be taking a look at a younger bull, in all probability a yearling. Just a dandy dimension for what I wished.
He was feeding, pulling up weeds from the underside and placing his head fully beneath every time he went down for a mouthful. I paddled as shut as I dared, and warned Olive and Vala to place their fingers over their ears and maintain down as little as they might, for I needed to shoot over their heads.
I put the entrance bead of the Winchester simply behind his shoulder, on the prime of the water, and when he raised his head I let him have it. He went down with an incredible splash, and I advised the children they might elevate up and look.
Luckily for us, the younger bull didn’t die straight away there in deep, muddy water. I don’t understand how I’d ever have gotten him ashore for dressing. When I obtained shut with the dugout he was making an attempt to tug himself out on the financial institution. My shot had damaged his again. I crowded him with the canoe, feeling sorry for him all of the whereas, and as quickly as I had him all the best way on dry land I completed him with a head shot.
I had at all times hated to kill something, and by that point I used to be near tears. Then I noticed Olive leaning towards a tree, crying her coronary heart out, and Vala and Louis with their faces all screwed up in tears, and I felt worse than ever. But I reminded myself that it needed to be carried out to feed the kids, and I wiped my eyes and defined to them as finest I might. About that point a porcupine got here waddling alongside, and that took their minds off the moose.
Dressing a moose, even a yearling bull, isn’t any enjoyable. I went at it now, and it was about as arduous a job as I had ever tackled. The youngsters tried to assist however solely succeeded in getting in the best way. And whereas I labored, I couldn’t assist worrying about my out-of-season kill. What would occur if I have been discovered? Would the sport warden be as understanding as I hoped?
WHEN THE JOB was carried out, I constructed a small fireplace to boil the partridge I’d shot and some items of moose meat for our supper, giving Louis the broth in his bottle. I felt higher after I ate, and I loaded the meat into the dugout and began house. But it was full darkish now, and I used to be so drained that I quickly determined to not go on.
We went ashore, unfold out a chunk of canvas, half beneath and half over us, and tried to sleep. The mosquitoes wouldn’t allow us to, and I lastly gave up. I sat over the kids the remainder of the night time, switching mosquitoes off with a willow department. Daylight happened 4 o’clock, and we obtained on the best way.
I’ll always remember that early-morning journey again to our place. My fingers have been black with mosquitoes the entire means, and the torment was nearly an excessive amount of. Joel Hammond, a neighbor, had given me some flour he’d made by grinding his personal wheat in a hand mill, and the very first thing I did was construct a hearth and make a batch of sizzling muffins. The flour was coarse and kind of dusty, however with moose steak and greens fried in moose fats, these muffins made an actual good meal. Then I went to work canning meat.
That was the one moose I ever killed out of season. When searching season rolled round that fall I obtained a homesteader’s free allow and went after our winter’s provide of meat. It got here even tougher that point.
The first one I attempted for I wounded with a shot that will need to have lower by the tip of his lungs. He obtained away in thick brush, and I took our canine Chum and adopted him. Chum drove him again into the river, and he swam throughout and stood wheezing and coughing on the other facet, too far off for me to make use of my solely remaining shell on him. Chum swam the river in pursuit, and began to battle him in shallow water.
Another neighbor, Ross Finley, who lived on the quarter part subsequent to ours, heard me shoot and got here as much as help. He loaded Olive and me into our dugout, and we paddled throughout to the place the canine was badgering the moose. When we obtained shut, Finley used my final shell however missed.
The bull, combating mad by now, got here for the canoe, throwing his head this fashion and that. I used to be scared stiff, for I couldn’t swim a stroke and neither I might Olive. I knew that one blow from the moose’s antlers would roll the dugout over like a pulpwood bolt.
I had the bow paddle, and I moved fairly quick, however at that the moose didn’t miss us by a foot as I swung the canoe away from him. He was in deep water now, and Chum was driving on his shoulders and biting behind his neck. The canine took the bull’s consideration for a second or two, and I reached down and grabbed Finley’s .22, which was mendacity within the backside of the dugout.
I shot the moose proper on the butt of the ear, with the gun nearly touching him. He sank quietly out of sight, leaving Chum floating within the water. The canine was so worn out from the ruckus that we had to assist him ashore.
We tried arduous to find the lifeless moose. But the present had carried it downriver, and it was days earlier than we discovered it. The carcass was mendacity in shallow water on the mouth of a creek, the meat spoiled.
There have been loads extra round, nonetheless. We might hear them combating at night time, grunting and snorting, and generally their horns would conflict with a noise as loud as an ax hitting a hole log. In the early mornings I noticed as many as 5 at one time alongside the weedy river shore. I waited and picked the one I wished, and that point I killed him with no hassle.
The Stuart was filled with geese and geese that fall, and there have been grouse in all places I went within the woods. I had loads of ammunition for the .22 and at all times a couple of .30/30 shells round. I canned all the things I killed and not fearful a few meat scarcity. Life was starting to kind itself out.
Just a few single males got here round and tried to shine as much as me, however I wasn’t . All I wished was to get extra land cleared and purchase a cow or two and a workforce of horses of my very own. The younger homestead widow was proving to herself that she might care for her household and make the grade.
BUT BEFORE the winter was over I had one other disaster. By February most of our meals was gone, aside from the canned meat and some cans of greens. We had used the final of the hand-ground flour that Joel Hammond had given me and have been desperately in want of groceries. I had no cash, however I made a decision to stroll the 27 miles to Vanderhoof, on the Prince George-Prince Rupert railroad, and attempt to get the provides we wanted on credit score. I knew I might pay for them with potatoes the subsequent fall, for by that point I had sufficient land cleared to develop a much bigger potato crop than we wanted for ourselves.
I left the three kids with the George Vinsons, neighbors a mile and a half downriver, and began out on a chilly, wintry morning. I had a street to observe, however just a few groups and sleighs had traveled it, and the strolling was arduous, in deep snow. Two miles out of Vanderhoof I lastly hitched a experience.
I didn’t have any luck getting credit score towards my potato crop. Those have been arduous instances, and I suppose the retailers couldn’t afford a lot generosity. I attempted first to purchase rubbers for myself and the children. We wanted them very badly, they usually have been the most cost effective footgear out there. But the shop turned me down.
A KINDLY WOMAN who ran a restaurant did properly by me, nonetheless. She gave me a superb dinner, and after I put her down for 50 kilos of potatoes, she simply smiled and shoved a chocolate bar into my pocket. I noticed to it that she obtained the potatoes when the time got here, anyway.
Another storekeeper advised me that he couldn’t let me have issues on credit score, however he gave me $2 in money and advised me to do the most effective I might with it. I knew the place a part of it was going for the oatmeal and sugar I had promised Louis and Vala and Olive after I obtained house. But I couldn’t see any option to pay for one more meal for myself or a room for the night time, and I walked round Vanderhoof pondering of how moist and chilly our toes can be within the slush of the spring thaw.
I used to be about as heartbroken as I’ve ever been in my life.
Finally I made a decision to make one other try. Some of my neighbors on the Stuart River traded at a retailer at Finmoore, 19 miles east of Vanderhoof. I additionally had a pal there, Mrs. John Holter. I’d stroll the railroad observe to Finmoore and take a look at my luck there. At the time I didn’t understand how far it was, and I anticipated a hike of solely 10 miles or so.
It was about darkish after I began. The railroad ties have been crusted with ice, and the strolling was very dangerous. My garments have been hardly sufficient for the chilly night time, both: denim overalls, males’s work socks, moccasins, and an previous wool sweater with the elbows out, worn beneath a denim jacket.
I had by no means been courageous at the hours of darkness, any time or anyplace, and I can’t inform you what an ordeal that stroll was. All I might consider have been the hobos I had heard tales about, the railroad bums, and I used to be afraid of each shadow.
I obtained to the lonely little station at Hulatt, 15 miles from Vanderhoof, at midnight and requested the stationmaster if I might relaxation till daylight. I lay down on the ground by the large potbellied range. It was heat and comfy, and I used to be worn out. I began to float off to sleep, however then I started to fret concerning the kids and the probability that if I used to be later in getting house than I had promised, they may come again to the home and get into hassle beginning a hearth. Things have been arduous sufficient with out having the place burned down. I obtained up and trudged away alongside the observe as soon as extra.
It was 2 o’clock within the morning after I reached the Holter place. Mrs. Holter mounted me a sandwich and a cup of sizzling milk, and I fell into mattress. She shook me awake at 9 o’clock, as I had advised her to. Those scant seven hours have been all of the sleep I had in additional than 36.
Mrs. Holter loaned me one other $2, and I went to the overall retailer and struck it wealthy. The proprietor, Percy Moore, stared at me in disbelief after I poured out my hard-luck story.
“You’ve walked from the Stuart River since yesterday morning?” he requested in amazement. “That’s forty-six miles!”
“No, forty-four,” I corrected him. “I got a ride the last two miles into Vanderhoof.” Then I added, “I’ve got fourteen more to walk home before dark tonight, too.”
The very first thing he let me have, on credit score, was the three pairs of rubbers we wanted so desperately. Then he took care of my grocery record. Eight kilos of oatmeal, three of rice, 5 of beans, 5 of sugar and—for a bonus-a three-pound pail of strawberry jam.
I plodded away from Finmoore at 10 o’clock that morning with nearly 30 kilos in a packsack on my again.
Three inches of moist snow had fallen that morning, and the 14-mile stroll appeared countless, every mile longer than the one earlier than. My pack obtained heavier and heavier, and someday within the afternoon I started to stumble and fall. I used to be so drained by that point, and my again ached so cruelly from the burden of the pack, that I wished to lie there within the snow and fall asleep.
But I knew higher. After every fall, I’d drive myself again to my toes and stagger on.
TO THIS DAY I have no idea when it was that I reached our place, however it was lengthy after darkish. Chum met me within the yard, and no human being was ever extra glad to fumble on the latch of his personal door.
I slid out of the pack, pulled off my moist moccasins and socks, and rolled into mattress with my garments on. The last item I keep in mind was calling the canine as much as lie at my toes for heat. The kids woke up me at midday the subsequent day, fed me breakfast, and rubbed a number of the soreness out of my swollen legs and toes.
Next fall, after I harvested my potato crop, I paid off my debt to Percy Moore in full, aside from one merchandise. There was no option to pay him, ever, for his kindness to me after I was broke and had three hungry kids at house.
I used to be to make many extra journeys to Finmoore within the years earlier than I left the Stuart, for I did most of my buying and selling at his retailer. And when instances obtained higher, he and his spouse and daughter Ruth usually got here out and acquired greens and eggs from me. I keep in mind strolling again to his place the subsequent yr, carrying six dressed chickens, promoting them for 50¢ apiece, spending the cash for meals and packing it house. Three {dollars} purchased fairly a heavy load in these days.
This textual content has been minimally edited to satisfy modern requirements.
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