My Idea Of A Pioneer Christmas Is With All The Fixings And Climate Control - But There Was A Time When Frostbite And Snow In The Log Cabin Was Natural

 

Photos of vintage New Years post cards by Suzanne Currie

IT GIVES ME A CHILL JUST TO THINK OF WHAT IT WAS LIKE TRYING TO GET COMFORTABLE IN A PIONEER LOG CABIN IN PREPARATION FOR A CHRISTMAS DINNER

A PREAMBLE TO TODAY’S POST

BY TED CURRIE

     It is, in Muskoka terms, a green Christmas, because the snow on the ground just doesn’t measure up to local historic standards. I’ve known a few in my life here, living in South Muskoka. Our standards are pretty well established, for what makes a white Chrimstas, good enough for a horse-drawn cutter to slide easily along the old trails; for a toboggan to get to the bottom of a favorite hillside without sliding over rocks and soil; snow up to the late shins and early knees, good enough for snowshoes; and enough snow on the ground in order to make a snow angel imprint, and still have six or so inches as a body cushion in doing so. After a wee after-lunch walk in the Wild Wood across the cattail bog, I had no discernible snow residue on the tops of my shoes, and even Muffin the dog had no nasty climbs of snow on her paws. Most often, we would simply avoid entering the woodland here at Birch Hollow, at this Christmas time of the year, because the snow would be too deep and travel difficult to gain access to the interior. I don’t cross country ski anymore and I’ve never got the hang of snowshoes, and Muffin isn’t all that eager to be covered over by snow, breaking trail amongst the mixed forest, that today, looks as if it is a scene from early November. We don’t own a snowmobile, and I don’t dare climb aboard a toboggan, with all these neighborhood trees in the way, and yet, I can’t for the life of me, feel any great disadvantage to our family, having on occasion, this modestly appointed winter hiatus at this, the business time of the year. No blizzards to interrupt travel, and no general inconvenience keeping the driveway clear. We just have to push the slush to the side before the temperature drops.

     I’ve already adjusted the thermostat three times today, as being too hot, too cold, and then not hot enough all before Christmas dinner. I have had to manipulate my chair cushion and back pillow several times, to get it just right for my backside, and twice now I’ve been offered an array of Christmas treats, and yes, on a silver platter, and I’ve only just now announced to anyone who would listen, that I’m anxious about when dinner will be served. The turkey to be carved? The dressing to be caressed onto my plate to side with the mash potatoes and the brilliant gravy from a pioneer recipe. Suzanne, the boss around here when it comes to Christmas protocols, has told me, in no uncertain terms, that “there’s wine before it’s time.” Which means, for gosh sakes, be patient.

     I am pretty sure I would have failed miserably as a pioneer. I suppose that if I had been born into that potential, and had only known hardship and deprivation from the beginning, I most likely could have found a way of subsisting, and finding a modicum of comfort in the most rigid of chairs, and beds. I am a diehard romantic, so what I dream of as a pioneer Christmas, for example, isn’t quite what an actual pioneer, such as Suzanne’s own homesteading family, would have experienced in actuality; and living with the occasional spray of windblown snow, coming through the cracks between the logs of the shanty, might have frosted my good spirit a tad; and thus, even as an experiment, I like reading and writing about the pioneering period in this district, of which we do have deep roots, but never at the expense of climate control and creature comforts, like soft chairs and softer bedsteads. I like basking in the warm glow of my vintage oil lamps, but even if they fail, or run out of fuel, I’m enormously glad to have the back-up of electric heat, and lamps to switch on overhead. I am a child of a more convenient, efficient, and comfortable existence, and regrettably, I can only imagine what the pioneer sacrifices were like back in the 1860’s when the Shea and Veitch families began their humble homesteads in Watst Township of the present Township of Muskoka Lakes. But I’ve got lots of family books and related Muskoka histories to make me feel like a pioneer, without the narrowest possibility of getting frostbite, or waking up from a long winter’s nap covered in snow that had blown in over night. Published below are a few stories from those books about the pioneer period in this region. What brave souls they were, to carve out these homesteads amidst the harshest of elements; which this year, in the modern version, we are served-up a green Christmas that now, right this minute, is being augmented by a thin mist and light rainfall. For snow lovers, relax. It’s coming, and coming soon.

FROST-BITE TO RECOVER FROM - ANOTHER HOME TO FIND

     "After a rest and a chat with the old gentleman Smallbones, John Lily with his dog and gun, bid the two goodnight, to disappear in the darkness 'neath the heavy forest, up the Indian Trail across the Portage, for a two and one-half mile trip to lot 20, con. 6, and on down Green Bay to lot 10, con. 6, and his home; and father, and mother, brother and sisters who were anxiously waiting his return. Needless to say, his coming was well announced by the barking of his big hound, that several times, had with muzzle held high, loudly disturbed the silence of Green Bay; as they drew near home to more tea, buckwheat pancakes, good pork, and a good night's rest for a tired body, but a happy mind."

     Bert Shea records, "That night in Smallbone's cabin, there was only one narrow bed. And the stranger occupied it, and the old gentleman sat up in his chair and kept a cheery fire burning all night. At breakfast they dined on rolled oats porridge without sugar or milk, the best he had and freely given. It was a part of his stores he had provided fro his winter's food, as he was old and unable to travel the long hard trail for supplies. And it is very doubtful if he had money to buy more. John Lily knew all of this, and that the old man would divide to the last morsel without complaining, so he scouted around. Housing quarters were also a problem. Families who had food did not always have any more than sufficient room for themselves. And Gill was in need of someone who could give treatment to his frost bitten parts, and provide the necessities for medical care. Undoubtedly he would be weeks in bed, if he survived. Dear reader, if you have not been in circumstances as these, or talked to those who have, to realize what it means, no doctor, no drug stores, no care other than neighbor families. We talk of the hardy pioneers and pass it on, but 'hardy' alone is not the proper description. Add resourcefulness, determination, self-reliance, endurance, trust worthiness, considerate co-operation, and in the full meaning of it all. It is not overdone. John Lily ran several families through his mind and weighed matters; he at length decided to call on the Sherwoods who lived on Lot 13, Con. 4. They had just built a new home with a fair amount of room. Nelson, a good manager, and provider, and Susan his wife, was one whose 'candle goeth not out'. This was a home where the stranger in need, was never turned from their door.

     With the request by John Lily, for a place for the young Englishman, consent was given. And with the help of a toboggan or wide runner sleigh, the young man was brought through the forest trail to the home of the Sherwoods, to be put in a warm bed of blankets and quilts, woven on a loom by the hand of the good woman of the house, Susan Sherwood, from wool taken from their own sheep. A bed fit for a king. The winter wore on and as it passed slowly away, the frost bitten feet and hands of the patient, showed favourable signs, responding to the pioneer treatment. And Kay, Sherwood's brother-in-law, in his off-handed way, firmly declared on one visit, 'you will be all right.' Nelson is a good doctor; it will be remembered that in these days, sickness and need was everybody's concern. During his (Gill's) period of sickness, many were the visits by the pioneers to his bedside, showing interest in the stranger. And the hospitality and kindness shown to him by his host and hostess, awakened in him a feeling of gratitude. Why should they all do this for him, a stranger, and give for this benefit without hope of remuneration. Giving from their resources and store. He truly was a stranger and they took him in. Pondering these things in his mind, he found a deep desire growing in his will, to stay among such people and to try to make his way."

     The Shea family historian, Bert Shea writes, "As the spring drew near and the daylight lengthened, the sun became warmer, it was good to be out, to sit on a block of wood by the door, and drink in the sunlight, listen to the songsters of the spring, hear the babbling of the rapids, as the water of Morley's, or now Sherwood's Creek, as it sang the song of freedom once again. He too (Mr. Gill), felt like singing; he thought of how he had been taught to sing the songs that were foremost in his mind, were songs he had learned at school and Sunday School. How precious were these reflections, and how precious they should be, to all who had been taught as he, by faithful teachers. And then his thoughts were drawn closer to him and his present surroundings. Here in this settlement were children, sons and daughters of pioneer families, who had no one to teach them to read, to write, to add, subtract or divide. During his stay in the community, he had noticed there were people who could sing. He had heard them sing shanty songs, and other songs he knew, and hymns of the church. Pondering these things, in his mind, he could hear a call. He could see a vacant place where a man such as he could fill. Scarcely able to hobble, he could sit on a bench or a block, and teach little children to read and to write, and further on, if the opportunity afforded.

     "But how could this be arranged, he pondered; where could he have a school room? Where could be continue to stay; he knew there could be no salary expected. But when there is a will, there is a way. Before him stood the old Morleys squatter's shanty, built of round hardwood, ash, hemlock and maple logs round and rough. A door, a small window to the south. Could he have this shanty for a school room. Some way he could get slates and pencils for the pupils. He could set their copy down, of letters, figures and sentences, and carry on till they could get a blackboard, and some readers. In this way, the foundation could be laid. To those thoughts he wondered how the people would respond, and if he could have the little building for a school. Filled with enthusiasm known only to them who have lived through the rigors of a Muskoka old-time winter, and feel the drawing of the spring's awakening, in the land of the ancient woods, his first thought was to discuss the question with his host and hostess, Nelson and Susan Sherwood. The Sherwoods, having three children of their own, were very much in favour of the plan, and in the expression of that day, the intimation was soon noised around the settlement. A meeting was called, or a get-together, on the question by all concerned, and it was agreed that if Sherwoods were good enough to give the use of the little log building, where the lilacs grew, and Mr. Gill would teach, they would be more than glad to send their children and trust them in his care. Needless to say, this was the topic of interest, the delight of the settlement. How favoured they were then to think of the families in the other parts of the township, and surrounding area, and plenty of children and no provisions for education. This arrangement for school in Ufford was long before the organization of the township, before any department assistance on record. The move was by the people and the stranger within their gates."

THE PREPARATION FOR THE FIRST SCHOOLHOUSE IN WATT TOWNSHIP

     "Preparation was made and arrangements were set about, to fit the little shanty for the school room; straight grain logs, probably basswood, were split, smoothed with the axe and jack plane the flat side for the seat or upper side, and in the round side, auger holes were bored, and (wood) pins were driven in for legs, to make the benches, for the pupils to sit on. These were arranged along the wall, a table for the teacher and a bench for him to sit on, and all was in readiness. And on a Monday morning, in May 1867, as the sun shone in spring time splendor, o'er forest and on the little clearings in the woods, as from the door of the humble cabins, stepped forth the little children of school age, on their way to school in Ufford by the forest paths. The wild flowers of spring decked the woods, the winged songsters sang, as little feet pattered along the way. The chatter of children's voices filled with excitement and expectation as they met the first schoolmaster in the Township of Watt, as he stepped by the help of a cane and made his way slowly down the path to the little shack, that had been one of the first to be called a home in Watt; and now to be the first school house in the township. And now on this beautiful morning of May, school-master and pupils together, entered and took their seats as they were called to order. At this time the Old Book was opened, a chapter read, followed by prayer and the first public school in Watt was being opened by a staunch Anglican, who taught pupils from Methodist, Presbyterian, Anglican, and Roman Catholic homes. The roll was called, but it has long since been lost. But recorded on the memory of Mary Oldham, who later joined the number, and as she sat in her arm chair, in her 82nd year, in her calm and gentle manner, passed on to me the record of the names of the children who attended the first school, on the bank of Sherwood's Creek beside the lilac bush. They were as follows; Annie Smalley, Mary Oldham, Annie Sherwood, Martha Wright, Elizabeth Bogart, Mollie Smalley, Tommy Sherwood, David Morley, Bill Polly, Harry Smalley, Billie Kay, Jim Bogart, John Kay, Jim Lovely, Mary Bogart."

     Mr. Shea adds, "After a time, it was decided unfair, for the teacher to board continuously at the Sherwood's home. There was no money to pay board. So those having children, going to school, decided that the teacher should change his boarding place every week, and board each week about, at the home of they who had children going to school. This arrangement laying the burden evenly on each interested family, when the school-master had sufficiently recovered to be able to walk the longer distances, to the several boarding places. This plan having been adapted worked so well, it was carried on for some time. But the community was growing. More settlers coming, younger children coming up. The little squatter's shanty soon would be too small, and since the machinery for the education of the young, was set in gear, it was not likely to stop. Mr. Gill, the teacher, made application to the Board of Education, in Toronto, and received the first Government grant for educational purposes, north of Bracebridge, late in the year, 1867; a new school building was erected on Lot 10, Con. 4, by Jacob Bogart. From good authority, it is said this was the first schoolhouse in Muskoka, if not north of Bracebridge. There was some controversy as to the purchase of the building. It was said to be too far from the centre of the community, it being a bigger building than the first one, on the bank of Sherwood's Creek. It was used for some time. But shortly after the organization of the township, a new school was built on the corner of Lot 16, Con. 4. It is a frame building. John Lily throughout the year, with satisfaction, watched the progress of education, among the young of the community. And it was his common question, whenever he saw a boy or girl of school age, who was not at school, to ask them, 'Do you go to school?' If the answer was no, he would reply, 'Well you ought to!"