Late Night Visitors

The crops had been harvested, so we had unlimited fields to explore. It was late October and the evenings were getting cooler. The first snowfall was getting organized across the Canadian border to the North
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My daily walks with the Norwegian Elkhounds were getting longer, as the young sister pups, Ragna and Melsie, were getting bigger and stronger. They could now keep up with old Signe, but they had the habit of stopping to check out every interesting scent they came across. Signe and I would continually have to stop and wait for them to catch up.

On this trip we ventured about a half mile Northeast of home, to check out a Bald Eagle that was feeding on a carcass out in the middle of a field. I had noticed it earlier with my binoculars and thought we might find some deer bones.

Once we got closer, the Eagle lifted off. It flew to a woods a short distance away and roosted in the top of a large tree, in order to keep an eye on us. The pups caught wind of the deer and soon raced ahead to check it out. Signe picked up a little speed too, but she knew what to expect and saw no threat from the pups.

From the tracks in the dirt it appeared the deer had been hit by a car and managed to stagger out into the field before it collapsed and died. The Coyotes on their nightly rounds located it, and had stripped all the meat and hide off the bones during the last couple of nights.

During the day the Bald Eagles had taken their turn, and there was little left but a skeleton. The pups were so excited they did not know what to do. This was their first experience with a dead deer.

Signe checked the remains and moved the sisters aside with a low growl and a display of teeth that got the message across. Most of the skeleton was still connected but Signe found one entire hind leg separate from the body. She immediately picked up the heaviest bone and started for home. The long leg with the hoof still attached, dragged in the dirt behind her.

The pups took turns trying to haul away a bone, but they were in a tug of war with each other over the carcass. I used my knife to cut off the lower leg bone of each front leg, along with the hoof. When I presented each pup with a section of leg, they wasted no time in trotting off after Signe.

Once they were on their way home, I grabbed the remaining rear leg, and dragging the entire carcass remains, I fell inline behind the team. We no doubt looked like a small gang of experienced hunters, hauling the remains of our kill home.

The pups had to stop and rest a couple of times, but they refused to abandon their piece of the treasure. Signe was home and chewing on her leg bone, with sheer delight, by the time the rest of us got home. The three of them worked on the deer remains all evening, until they were too full and too tired to continue.

The pups were not big or strong enough to crack open the leg bones to extract the marrow, but they happily chewed on a hoof until it was gone. Then they went to work on the ribs. The last time I checked on them they were lying contentedly in the yard, fast asleep, with deer bones scattered all around them.

About midnight, I awoke to some serious barking. From the sound coming from Signe I could tell something threatening was in the yard. The pups joined in, but they had no idea what was going on. I went to the back porch and tried to quiet Signe down but she convinced me we had a problem.

The fearless pups kept yapping and moving towards the pitch black woods, through a small grass covered field that lay between the house and the trees. Signe kept moving forward, but she stayed close to them.

I was not dressed to charge into the black void, so I went back in the house and dressed.

When I came back out the three dogs were at least a hundred feet further from the house and the barking was getting a lot more serious. I had a flashlight but had to use it to see where I was walking in the deep grass and rough ground.

When I caught up the to pups they were barking very excitedly, while Signe had a deep throated growl and from her stance I could see she was very tense and about to attack. She was displaying a full mouth of very deadly teeth, behind her curled upper lip.

It was at that point that I used the flash light to scout the edge of the woods that lay about fifty feet ahead.
Reflected back by the flashlight I saw a pair of bright shining eyes and the face of a Coyote. Signe seemed to be concentrating on something to our left so I swept the beam in that direction and the flashlight showed three more pairs of glowing eyes.

The pack of coyotes had followed the deer carcass drag trail and were there to take back their deer!

After a short stand-off I managed to force the pups to back off and moved towards the house. They were not big enough nor wise enough to tackle one coyote, never mind four. Signe was capable of doing a lot of damage in a fight, but four to one was a little too much.

Signe stood her ground until we were on our way home and then she slowly gave way and moved back with us. Once at the house I got the three dogs in, and everyone calmed down. The pups were very pumped up with the venture and wanted to go back outside and deal with the interlopers. Signe quickly fell asleep on her blanket, having experienced just another normal day in the Minnesota Northwood’s.

In the morning, the visitors, and the main part of the deer carcass was gone.

A Coyote Pack

Yesterday, on a visit to the minnow pond we discovered a pack of coyote tracks. From what I saw, I would estimate four to five in the group, all out hunting together. We rarely catch sight of them as they are more active at night.

It is not unusual to hear them howling on a dark winter evening, as they make their rounds. The den is under an old barn that collapsed, about a mile south of our place. I have visited a number of times in the winter and the tracks make it plain that the den is under the main floor of the barn. Because the walls have given way, the floor of the loft now lies on top of the main floor. Most of the roof is still intact but it is dangerous to enter.

The pups are born in the den and then when they are old enough, they spend their time playing in the loft area. They are protected from the weather and prying eyes. As they get older they venture out of the barn and onto the snow drifts that surround the barn. The tracks in the snow show where they play.

When they are old enough to hunt with the parents, they travel further and further from the safety of the old barn. This particular den has produced coyotes for more than twenty years.

We have always had two to three Elkhounds at our place and as many as five at one time. Our dogs are vocal and howl back and forth with the Coyotes so that they are well aware of each other, and keep to their own territory. Howling establishes territorial boundaries.

On the nightly hunts the Coyotes bypass our property by sneaking by to the East or to the West. On the West they have a well traveled trail on the West side of our woods. To the East they move on the frozen creek ice that is sheltered by trees on each side. It is an unwritten rule that each other’s territory is off limits. For years I have seen the tracks that established their den and trails.

On a few occasions the coyotes have bent the rules, but only after the Elkhounds have carried off deer remains that the coyotes considered theirs. The details of one of those occasion follows

A Pause for a Tasty Snack

It was December about 2001, and I had taken my three Norwegian Elkhounds for a walk. We had a number of packed trails we could use so I did not need any snowshoes.

The dogs loved the trails through the deep snow because they could race up an down with ease.
When they got on the track of anything interesting they would jump into the deep snow and wade about pursuing some wild beast, be it a rabbit, coyote or mink.

The particular trail we were on led us east across a field and then through a narrow woods that contained a small creek. This area was also a delight to sharp noses, as it contained lots of tracks and smells of game.er The creek was well frozen as the temperature was ten below Fahrenheit and it had been colder for a number of days.

After crossing the creek, we then followed the trail over to the pond, which was another northern dog delight. All three dogs were full grown and weighed about fifty pounds each. When they reached the pond they were able to go anywhere they wished, as the snow on the ice was only a few inches thick.

I stood watching them explore the bulrushes around the edge of the pond, as that was where the most fresh tracks were. Eventually all three dogs were on the far side of the pond and I noticed that Ragna had found something interesting. I saw her pick up an object from the ice at the edge of the bull rushes. She then walked about ten feet out onto the ice and dropped whatever she had.

She proceeded to eat what she had found, before the other dogs could get to her. I was curious, so started to walk across the pond to where she was. In the meantime she had gone back to the original site and once again picked up something and took it off a distance, as she obviously did not wish to share it.

When I got closer I saw three or four minnow on the ice, and she was eating them one at a time. Some were flopping around so they were alive. Melsie and Signe by this time realized there was food to be had and they were following Ragna when she went back to her treasure location.

By then I was very curious as I could not understand how she was getting live minnows from a pond that had at least three inches of ice on it. As I came up behind the three dogs I saw that Ragna had grasped another mouthful of minnows and the other two dogs were trying to do so.

I pushed the dogs aside to get a better look and at that second, the ice below my feet broke and I went into the pond feet first. My feet hit the mucky bottom so I was left standing in water that was up to my chest. The water around me was alive with hundreds of churning minnows.

The ice around me in the bulrushes was very thin so I turned to face the middle of the pond and tried to get back up on the ice that was thicker. I noticed the water was very cold.

All three dogs thought this was great fun and all three stood on the firm ice and tried to lick my face. They were barking and jumping about, in an excited way, as I stood with not much more than my head showing.
It would have made an interesting photo, but fortunately there was no camera man present
　
When I made an attempt to climb up on the ice, my weight, along with the dogs, was too much and a large piece of ice broke away, and I fell back into the water. The dogs jumped back in time and did not get wet.
I was getting colder and a little mad at them so yelled to get them to back off.

I managed to get one leg up on the ice and after some difficulty I crawled out of the water. I stood there for a few moments as the water drained off my clothes. I was wearing tall rubber boots but I had them half folded down and they were full of water. I did not dare take them off as I would not be able to get them back on again.

There had been so many minnows in the small pond, they were starving for oxygen. They gathered by the bulrushes where the ice was thinnest and their activity of coming up to the surface to get air kept the water from freezing.

The first dog had learned to catch minnows in shallow creeks in the summer so she instantly realized what they were, and started feeding. Her weight was not heavy enough to break the ice.

I lifted each foot up high behind me and allow much of the water to drain out, then headed for home. I was soaked up to my armpits and my toque was the only thing left that was dry.

Before I had walked across the pond my clothes on the surface started to freeze. I was wearing long underwear and heavy pants and jacket, and they were all very heavy with water. I half walked and half jogged home to get there before everything froze worse. The dogs of course, were running ahead on the trail and thought it was all a great outing.

It took ten or fifteen minuets to get to the house, and I had to get around to the front where I could get into the kitchen porch and get the outer clothes off. Just as I jogged around the house I saw a car in the yard and my friend Bob was walking up to the house. The dogs rushed out to greet him and his attention was focused on them.

I stood on the snow covered sidewalk as Bob walked the rest of the way towards me. After a few greetings he asked me a couple of questions, but I no longer remember the topic. At some point, as he was talking, he started to notice my wet jacket. By this time more water was draining off me and I was standing in a small puddle that was growing in size around my feet.

Bob had a puzzled look as he stared down at the water that was beginning to freeze in the ten below temperature. “What happened to you?,” he stuttered in amazement.

“Fell into the pond through the ice” I replied rather frostily.

At that moment I felt something in my pocket, pulled off my mitts, and removed two flopping minnows.
Ragna rushed over to pick them up as I dropped them on the sidewalk. A quick check of the other pocket produced another minnow.

Bob took it all in and realized I had to get in the house, so he turned, and shaking his head from side to side, left and said he would check on me later.

Once in the porch I struggled to get out of the soaked jacket, rubber boot, and pants. By now, most of the excess water had drained away. I quickly and coolly stepped into the house, and once in the bathroom I stripped down and was soon in the hot shower.

It was not long before I was dry, clothed, and much warmer. Bob phoned later to get the full story and then remarked that he always found it interesting to stop by and visit.

The next day the dogs were very excited to head off on another fun filled hike.

We went a different trail.

The Race for Help - Part 3 of 3

It was a difficult night because of the cold. I managed to get a few hours sleep off and on and Jim claimed he did like wise.

When it was my turn to tend fire again, I got up and saw the sky was starting to lighten up on the horizon. Jim was sitting cross legged in front of the fire with his bare feet as close as he could get. I grabbed my cup and poured some coffee and then I suddenly realized what I was seeing.

Jim was holding a knife by the blade and was tapping one of his big toes with the wooden handle. I was shocked to hear the wood making a solid clunk when hitting Jim’s big toe.

I dropped or tossed my coffee aside and moved closer to examine his feet. I asked him what was wrong. He nonchalantly replied, “It seems my big toes are both kind of frozen”

I felt as if my heart had stopped for a second. I had taken a lot of First Aid courses and knew the situation was serious. When I checked his big toes they were ice cold and very hard. It seemed that he had kept tying his snowshoes on tighter and tighter and this had cut off the circulation.

I could not understand why he had waited so long to tell me what had happened. He claimed that they just needed to warm up and would be fine. I knew that when they thawed out they would hurt like hell and he would not be able to walk in the snowshoes.

After a quick discussion it was agreed he had to get help in a hurry. I checked the surrounding area from the crest of the river bank and there was no farms in view in any direction. We checked the map and noted that the river flowed under a railway bridge a few miles further upstream to the south. From that point the closest town was about five miles to the west.

We had made plans that if we ran into trouble or wanted to quit at any point, a phone call would bring someone from Winnipeg to drive us home. I advised Jim to get his snowshoes on and walk to the railway bridge and then head down the tracks to the town of Vivian, which was about seven miles away, as fast as he was able. He was to leave his snowshoes by the bridge and I would pick them up. Once at the town he could phone for help.

It was agreed that I would stay behind to break camp and pack up the tent and equipment. I would load his pack board and equipment on the toboggan and haul everything myself. Within five minutes he had his socks, moccasins and snowshoes on and was heading up the middle of the snow covered river.

I had some initial trouble getting everything lashed to the toboggan so that it would stay in place. I continued to carry my pack board on my back. Before I got going, Jim was out of sight. I easily followed his tracks and that helped me while hauling the toboggan. By the time I reached the railway track he was too far ahead so I was unable to see him. It took me twice as long to reach the town as he did as it was very difficult dragging the load down the railway right of way.

When I got to the town about two hours behind him, I located him in the only store in town and learned that he had phoned Winnipeg and someone was on the way to pick us up. His feet were starting to thaw and he was experiencing some pain.
　
Our ride showed up shortly after I reached town, and we were quickly loaded and heading back for home.
Jim kept insisting that his feet were fine and everything would be okay. We dropped him off at his house, after explaining what had occurred, to his parents. The toes had thawed by this point and were soft to the touch but the pain was getting worse.

It was two days later before I was able to stop by. His toes were turning black and it seemed likely the toe nails were going to fall off. He refused to see a doctor and claimed they were getting better. I kept in touch by phone for a number of day then went to see him again.

I was shocked to see that both big toes were black as coal, the toe nails had fallen off along with some skin on the end of each toe. He had not yet seen a doctor but his parents had been trying to force him to go. I agreed with them and he finally said he would see a doctor the next day.

When I got a chance to check back with him I learned what had taken place at the doctor’s office. The moment the doctor saw his toes he reached for the phone to arrange an operation to amputate both big toes.
Jim refused the operation and told the doctor, “You think this is bad. You should have seen them a week ago. They are getting better now.”

Eventually Jim won the argument, but had to agree to come back if the toes got worse. In the end he did not lose his toes, but forever after they were very sensitive to cold and he had to take special precautions to make sure he did not freeze them again.

Within months both our lives changed and we lost touch when he moved out West. I am sure that he recalled his Brokenhead River experience and me, every time it got cold out.

　

An Emergency Fire - Part 2 of 3 parts.

Read Part one first.
During our hike I had noticed round holes in the deep snow, in various sections of the river. They were no more than six inches across and very deep.

I was in the lead at the time and Jim had fallen behind as he was having troubles with his snowshoes. Every so often he would stop and re-adjust them
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While I waited from him to catch up I snowshoed over to another of the mystery holes. I was trying to think what kind of animal would make such a hole. It was a perfect hole all the way around and there were no tracks of any kind near it.

I decided to get a better look so I bent down to peer into the hole. All of a sudden the snow under my snowshoes dropped about two feet and into the river. As I fell forward I automatically put my hands out . They plunged into the deep snow and then hit something solid and I stopped falling.

It took a second or two to for the situation to sink in. My feet and snowshoes were on a large rock in the river. My hands were on another large snow covered rock and my body made a bridge from one rock to the other, while the river gurgled by below me. The tips of both snowshoes were in the running water and my knees were slowly sinking in as well, because the weight of my pack was pushing me down.

Jim by then had rush closer, still pulling the toboggan. I yelled at him to stay back as there was no point in him joining me. I realized I was not going to stay in this position much longer and the only way to get out was to step into the water and hope it was not too deep

When my knees were about six inches into the water I could feel the snowshoes slipping off the rock so I was going into the river one way or another. At some point I just stepped into the water and in about two strides I was back up again and on the snow covered ice. Jim claimed later, that my feet were pumping so fast he could hardly see me for the spray of water.

Fortunately the water was only a foot or so deep as it was a rocky rapids. Both snowshoes went in the river and before I had gone two feet, the water on them froze instantly and the weight made it almost impossible to move. I quickly slipped off my pack board and just dropped it in the snow. The snowshoes came off next.

I had to get the rawhide ties on my moccasins untied before they froze or I would be forced to cut them off.
As I worked away at the moccasins, I heard Jim calling, “What can I do to help? What should I do?”

I simply replied, “I need a fire and I need it fast. Clear a spot and get wood as quickly as you can.”

I was wearing special duck pants that were water proof so my knees did not get wet, but the water froze on them instantly. The pants at my knees were frozen stiff in a half-bent condition. I got the moccasins untied and then helped get the fire started. We always carried birch bark paper, dried grass, and small twigs in our toboggan box for just such an emergency. Jim brought that to me and I got the fire going and began to add some of the first pieces of small wood he had gathered. I continued to tend and increase the fire as he hauled more wood. We were very fortunate there were a lot of dead trees standing on the bank of the river.

Jim had dumped his backpack and left it with the toboggan on the river below. Once he had a good supply of wood he brought his equipment to the site of the fire. It did not take long before we had a good strong fire going. Jim’s used his snowshoes as shovels to move more snow back.

Once the heat from the fire started to take effect, we started to relax and discuss what had happened. It was all my fault for being too curious and I got caught. We were just lucky we did not venture too close to the other holes. We realized they each indicated where there was fast running water and no ice.

My feet did not get wet but I did change socks. When the moccasins had the ice melted off of them and they were all warmed up, I was able to put them back on. My mitts got a little wet on the outside and were covered in ice but my woolen mitts and hands did not get wet.

We got some coffee going and tried to wind down from all the excitement. Getting wet in the middle of winter was bad enough but getting wet at 50 below zero was very dangerous.

The biggest problem now was that each snowshoe was coated in ice. All the cat gut webbing as well as the wooden frames were thickly coated.. Each snowshoe weighed about twenty extra pounds. It was necessary to take the back of the hatchet and tap the snowshoes section by section against a log, until all the ice was knocked off. The cat gut webbing is strong but it could crack and break if abused. Damaged snowshoes would have been a serious problem.

After about an hour working on the snowshoes we were able to get our kit back together and loaded. We still had a few hours until dark and I wanted to get walking and get warmed up again before we stopped for the night.

Back on the trail Jim took the lead and I hauled the toboggan. He made a point of giving any holes in the snow a wide berth. I noticed that Jim was continuing to have trouble with his snowshoes. He would step aside to adjust the bindings, and would let me pass. If he were not careful, his foot would slip out of the binding and on his next step he would plunge one foot into the deep snow and fall.

I took the lead, even though I had the toboggan, as it made it easier for him to deal with his bindings. Before we stopped for the night it appeared that he had the problem solved, so we had eaten up a few more miles before it started to get dark.

We picked a good campsite that was sheltered from the wind and had lots of firewood nearby. We had used up our emergency fire starter so it took us a little longer to get the fire going. With a strong fire crackling nearby we used our snowshoes to clear a good site for the tent. In no time the tent was up and the sleeping bag were hanging from some sticks poked into the snow near the fire. A toasty sleeping bag was a must.

Working around the fire and cooking our meal allowed the ice on my knees to melt and soon they were dry. It was agreed that we would take turns sleeping while the other person kept a good sized fire going through the long night. We took turns each couple of hours. We slept in our clothes as it was too cold to take even our parkas off.          End of Part 2 - See part 3.

　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Brokenhead River Trek - Part 1of 3.

In mid January of 1952, we left Winnipeg early on a cold dark morning and headed for Beausejour, Manitoba. We were well on our way before the sun was up. My father was driving and I was in the front with him. Jim was in the back with a lot of our gear, and the rest was in the trunk.

When we reach Beausejour, we drove to the east side of town and stopped on a bridge over the Brokenhead River. This was to be our starting point on our overnight snowshoe trip up the river. Our goal was Ross, Manitoba, about 35 miles away. The snow was at least two feet deep over the landscape and the snowplows had piled up the snow high on the banks of the road. River is marked in yellow on the map.

We were anxious to get an early start and the sun was just coming up when we jumped out of the car and went around to the trunk to unload. We hardly got started when my father noticed that part of Jim’s nose and his cheeks had started turning white and were obviously freezing. He convinced us to all jump back in the car which was still running. We had no thermometer so we had no idea of the temperature.

As Jim got the blood flowing to his face, my father tried to talk us out of our hike. I had not noticed the cold but I was concerned about Jim, so we let him make the decision. He said he still wanted to go, and he would make sure his face was better protected with his scarf.

When he felt his face was warm enough, we all jumped out again and soon had our packs on our backs and the toboggan loaded. I agreed to break trail and Jim was to follow with the toboggan. Once we were down off the bridge and onto the deep snow of the river, we took off.

I started off at a good clip to get us warmed up. The snow was soft and deep, so that we were sinking into the snow at least a foot deep with every step. Everything in view, from river bank to river bank was soft white snow. We were at least six to eight feet lower than the banks so the trees along the river gave us considerable protection from the wind.

It did not take long before I was forced to slow down as the snow was just too deep for any sustained fast movement. The area we were traveling through was mixed farmland and the farms were far and few between. We saw no farm buildings and there were no tracks of any kind.

At first we took turns breaking trail while the other pulled the toboggan. Our snowshoe tracks made the toboggan easy to pull, as it stayed in the tracks in the packed snow. Once we warmed up we did not notice the cold.

The snow was so deep we could not see or hear any running water. It had been a cold winter so we were confident that the river had a thick coat of ice. Every couple of hours we would stop to take a break and check our gear. We had no trouble with our packs which were actually army pack boards with equipment strapped to them. The tent was tied to the toboggan and a wooden box containing the camping gear was tied at the rear.
　
　
As we hiked along we chewed on dried fruit. We carried sandwiches to eat when we got hungry as we did not plan to stop for lunch. The goal was to get as many miles behind us the first day before we stopped for the night.

About midday our legs were starting to get tired and we decided to take a break. We left the toboggan on the river and walked up the bank, almost to the top. We then undid our snowshoes and fell over backwards part way down the bank. This got our feet and legs uphill from our bodies and helped with our leg circulation. Just before we dropped backwards into the deep snow we noticed some farm building about five hundred feet away but there was no sign of any activity.

As we lay there munching on our dried fruit we were talking about our progress and our plans to make camp just before it got dark. We would pick a sheltered spot with lots of dead wood, and we had to get it gathered before it got dark.

It was about this time we started to hear a dog barking and realized it was coming towards us from the farm. Soon we had the dog standing at the top of the river bank looking down upon us and barking very excitedly. We tried to calm him down and called to him but he was too worked up, so we just ignored him. It was not a big dog so it had struggled through deep snow to reach the bank, but would come no further.

We were laughing at the excited dog when suddenly the big farmer came into view. At first he was shocked and actually thought we had been in some kind of accident. His first question was, “What happened? What are you doing there?”

It took us a few moments to explain that we were fine and that we were on an overnight snowshoe hike from Beausejour to Ross, Manitoba.

His next question was, “Why?”

“Because we always wanted to make a snowshoe hike and stay out overnight in the winter,” I replied.
His next comment was almost shouted at us, “Are you crazy? Don’t you know it is 50 F. below zero!”

He was obviously not as well dressed as we were and was getting colder by the minute. He turned and stomped off with his dog, through the deep snow muttering something about us being crazy as hell.
We certainly felt colder after he left.

As soon as he was gone we spun around on the hill, put on our snowshoes and plodded down to the toboggan. Once again we were back on the trail, eating up the miles and feeling much warmer.

End of Part one - See Part two.
　
　
　
　
　

Overnight Hike to Test the Equipment

Mid December of 1951 a lot of snow had fallen and we were thinking about getting out snowshoeing.
Jim and I were passionate readers of Canadian stories about trappers and hunters of the North. While we were only sixteen we had done a fair amount of snowshoeing , and we were anxious to plan a winter overnight hike. We felt we were old enough to venture out in to the wilderness on our own.

We were encouraged to take a short overnight trip first, to organize and test our equipment, so we reluctantly agreed. Our present moccasins were not satisfactory so we knew we needed proper moccasins. So, that meant Indian made originals.

Jim’s father knew a source and arranged to order us each a pair. I can remembered the night they arrived and I first saw them at Jim’s house. The bottoms were tough moose hide while the uppers were soft deer skin. The uppers also had fancy Indian beadwork Now we would not only look like trappers and hunters but our feet would be a lot warmer.

I owned a pair of snowshoes and Jim had arranged to borrow a pair. We learned that the trappers of the North used lamp wick to tie their snowshoes on. Many places up north still had oil lamps so we had little difficulty in buying what we needed. We wished to copy the old traditions of the Canadian wilderness.

Our overall plan was to snowshoe the Brokenhead River which lies Northeast of Winnipeg and flows North west to Lake Winnipeg. It would be about a fifteen mile snowshoe hike each day and we would stay overnight.

Before we selected a date for the trip we decided to try out our equipment on a short trip along the Red River south of Winnipeg. We had someone drive us to the south side of the city and drop us off. We quickly discovered the new moccasins were perfect and kept our feet warm. We had felt insoles and wore two pair of heavy socks.

We each had a pack-board with our sleeping bags and personal equipment strapped on. We had a small toboggan to haul the two man tent and camping gear. We took turns hauling the toboggan while the other person broke trail. The snow was about two feet deep so we worked hard snowshoeing.

After a number of hours we picked out a good site to set up the tent and when that was done we built a good fire and made our supper. The weather was not too cold so sleeping in the tent was fine. We decided that we would take turns keeping the fire going all night while the other person slept or tried to sleep. Our test outing was really roughing it but we were satisfied that we had all the gear we needed to make a successful trip.

We had lots to eat and plenty of coffee so there were no complaints. The night did pass rather slowly but we managed to sleep between our duties tending the fire.

The only real difficulty occurred in the morning with breakfast. During the night all our food and water had frozen solid. . We had snow to melt and soon had hot coffee to drink while the bacon fried. The problem was with the eggs that were frozen rock hard.
　
We tried to peel the shells off but they were impossible to remove. Our plan of action was to use our hatchet to chop up the eggs and toss the pieces in the frying pan and then fish out the shells as they thawed.

Jim set an egg on the ground and then gave it a bang or two with the back of the axe. It made not the slightest mark. I was sipping coffee and giving advise. “Whack it with the blade of the axe and whack it hard!”

Jim’s next blow was full power and he hit the egg solidly but the blade simply skidded off and we watched amazed as the egg sailed off sideways through the air and landed about twenty feet away. It disappeared into the snow with a little pouf.

As we endeavored to find it we began to realized the egg was exactly the same color as the acres of snow that lay all around We searched on our hands and knees through about ten square feet of snow before we gave up and headed back to the fire.

It was getting daylight by this time and I stepped forward to take my turn with the next egg. I cleared the snow away down to bare ground and prepared the egg for execution. I am a little bigger than Jim so I put all my strength into the swing with the hatchet.

My aim was on target and I hit the egg perfectly. The next thing we knew the egg was sailing off in the opposite direction. We watched with dismay as the egg sailed about thirty feet and buried itself in a large snowdrift. We felt and looked like a couple of idiots but no one was watching.

We were soon digging into the drift with our hands trying to locate the egg. We notched it up a little and used our snowshoes to search but the egg avoided detection. Try as we might we could not find that very white egg.

At this point we had worked up quite an appetite so went back to the fire to eat the well cooked bacon and about six pieces of toast each. As we sat and enjoyed our coffee, we agreed that we would not take eggs on our next trip.

We broke camp and loaded up our gear and just before we continued on our journey we each took one of the remaining frozen eggs and threw them away as far as we could. No doubt they were still frozen in June.

Other than the egg problem, the rest of the trip went off as planned and we headed home to make the final plans for the Brokenhead River trip.

Red-winged Blackbird

I freely acknowledge this is a poor photo but it is good enough to confirm we are looking at a Red-winged Blackbird.

This bird has been hanging around the bird feeder for the last three days and is about four months too early. It seems healthy enough but it must have been driven North by the last strong South wind.

It could be an argument in favor of Global Warming or it had a malfunction in it's GPS.

We will see how it does when the mercury plunges into double digit below zero numbers.

Common Redpolls

My bird feeder has been rather busy lately with dozens of Common Redpolls. They always seem to arrive about December and will stay the winter, eating me out of house and home.

When they are not at the feeder, I have seen them feeding on the seeds of weeds. They are very smart because they will flutter around the heads of dried Ragweed and this causes all the seeds to fall from the heads of the plants and fall onto the snow, where it is easily seen and reached.

When I am out snowshoeing and I see seeds scattered on the snow, around dried weeds, I know it is the work of the Redpolls.

In my experience about one in a hundred Common Redpolls will be a Hoary Redpoll. The Hoary is generally more white but it has an all white rump that confirms the identification. I do not believe I have ever seen more than three Hoary Redpoll at any one time.

It might interest you to known that “poll” is an old English word that refers to the top of the head. Check your Bird guide for more details.

Ruff and Sharp-tail Grouse

The last few days we have had Ruff Grouse take over our yard. They have been leaving tracks all around the house and acting as if they own the place.

Just yesterday I looked out the back door window and one was sitting on the roof of the basement stairs entry.

It took off when it saw me and flew to some dense woods south of the house. As soon as it took flight four more joined if from various spots in the yard where they were roosting or feeding.

Now that the small crabapples are covered by the snow they have gone back to their main food which is Hazelnut bush catkins. They love to tightrope walk out to the end of flimsy branches to pick off the catkins.

Occasionally they lose their balance when the branch fails to sustain their weight. When that occurs they take flight and move to another location and make it appear that was their intention in the first place.

When the weather turns cold or a storm occurs, the Ruff Grouse takes shelter in deep snow and then lets the snow completely cover it. It seems to know in advance when bad weather is on the way and they make sure their crop is full before taking shelter.

Once the weather improves they push aside the snow and go back to their quest for more food.

The photo shows where one Ruff Grouse spent a day or two waiting out the last storm. The dark red droppings in the middle of the pile are obviously from crabapples taken from our trees.

This afternoon while snowshoeing we flushed two Sharp-tail Grouse as we came out into a clearing. They flew rapidly off into the open field cluck, cluck, clucking into the distance.

Ruff Grouse prefer woods to open country while the Sharp-tail Grouse prefer open fields. They can be seen occasionally in the other’s territory but it is rare.

A few weeks ago we counted exactly fifty Sharp-tail Grouse flying in a long group from one field to another

Two more draft please!

We started from Kenora by car and traveled sixty miles to Vermillion Bay where we turned north and went a hundred and ten miles to the mining town of Red Lake, in Northwestern Ontario. The surrounding area is a hunting and fishing paradise filled with macho men who work hard every day for a living.

I was investigating an insurance claim and had a young fellow with me who was in training to become and Insurance Adjuster. It had been a long day of travel and interviewing witnesses and people involved in the situation.

When our work was done we headed back south on our drive home. As we drove through Ear Falls I looked at my watch and realized it was near six o’clock and we had not eaten. We stopped at a small restaurant and when we were done, we walked over to the beer parlor to have a couple of beers and relax before completing our long dark journey.

It was a large men’s only beer parlor, and as we entered the sound of more than a hundred men talking all at the same time met our ears. Since the place was almost full we had to walk to the middle of the room before we found a couple of empty chairs at a small table.

The place served almost exclusively draft beer which arrived in two glasses for each of us. We were tired and thirsty and still had more than a hundred miles of driving to go. We sat facing one of the two bars from which the waiters picked up large trays of draft beer and carried to the patrons. The room was rectangular and since we were in the middle we had a good view of all the tables and men arranged to our left and our right.

This took place over fifty years ago at a time when you could not walk around with a beer in your hand and had to stay seated. If you wished to move to another table the waiter put your drinks on his tray and moved your drinks for you to the new table. The only people standing were the waiters and a few men who were arriving and leaving.

Close to us on our right was a large table of at least ten men who obviously just got off work from the underground Gold Mine near town. The majority of the men in the room worked at the mine. The voices were loud as everyone seemed to be talking, shouting, and laughing at the same time as they enjoyed the company of their friends and workmates.

Our plan was just to have a couple of draft beer and then get right back on the road for home. Just before we drained our last glass a young woman came in the door at the far end of the bar and proceeded to walk in our direction. She was looking carefully at each table of men as she approached the middle of the room. Since women were not allowed to drink in the bar, her presence was highly noticeable and the sound of men’s voices diminished around her as she moved down the length of the room.

When she was close to us and to the bartender she turned and asked him in a voice loud enough for us to hear. “Have you seen John ______ in here tonight?” The bartender replied in a loud voice, while more than a hundred men paused in their talking and drinking, “No, I have not seen him tonight.”

At this point the woman turned around and began to check out each man sitting in the tables near us. The longer she searched the quieter the place became. Each man in the room was praying it was not his wife because someone was in for trouble.

All of a sudden the woman eyes stopped and then drilled into a young fellow sitting with all his friends at the next table to us . Once she had her target she marched brazenly over to him and stood next to his chair and said in a loud accusing manner, “I thought I told you to come right home from work tonight!”

As she shouted these words the last rumble of voices in the background died down. The fellow looked at if he was the youngest man in the room and was about 23 or 24 years old, had dark hair and wore black rimmed glasses. He had on a white shirt so I am guessing he worked in the office at the mine.

He replied by saying in a clear voice, “I’ll be right home once I finish my last draft.”

She immediately reacted to these words by picking up his full glass of beer and pouring it on the top of his head then said, “Okay, now you are finished! Now get the hell home!”

As she whirled around and headed for the exit there was not a single sound in the room. Everyone’s eyes were on the young man who sat there with a soaked head and beer covered glasses. The beer was running off his face, and his shirt and lap were soaking wet. There was not a man in the room who wasn’t thanking his gods that he was not sitting in this man’s seat.

No one in the room moved. The many waiters and the bartender all just stood and stared at this poor individual who would never live down this moment in his life.

Slowly the victim reached into his pocket, dug out a handkerchief, and proceeded to wipe the beer out of his eyes and off his face. He then very slowly and determinedly cleaned his glasses, held them up to the light and put them back onto his face.

Time seemed to stop in the room It was going to be a very painful moment for him to get up and walk the length of the entire room, after his wife, who by this time was out the door.

Then with all eyes on him he raised his right hand high up in the air, stuck up two fingers and said in a strong clear voice, “Two more draft beer please!”

At that second the entire place erupted in a roar of laughter and a hundred men started clapping, whistling and cheering.. They had just watched a young man recover from a most embarrassing situation in a way that instantly elevated him from hen pecked husband to a hero.

We finished our beer and as we walked the length of the bar, each table was rehashing what had occurred and laughing heartily as the door slammed shut behind us.

Mal Due Raquette - snowshoe sickness

The French Canadians had a great name for it, when you went lame while using snowshoes.

Mal due Rackette or Snowshoe Sickness must be experienced to fully appreciated.

It can occur as a result of a person using snow shoes for the first time and/or is not physically fit. Even an experienced snowshoe user can get an attack when snowshoeing long distances in deep snow.

The main muscle on the inside of each leg at the groin becomes over taxed with the constant lifting of each foot and snowshoe out of the deep snow in order to take the next stride. The nose of the snowshoe must be lifted high enough to clear the snow and this results in an exaggerated lift of the knee.

The weight of the snowshoe and the snow on it, seems to get heavier and heavier with each mile trod.

Eventually a person reaches the stage where all the will power cannot lift the snowshoe up out of the hole one more time. If you are miles from home and in deep snow you are now trapped. You are an invalid in the wilderness. Sometimes a rest of a few hours can improve the situation and if you are not alone the other person will break trail.

The experienced outdoorsman will pitch camp and try again after a good night sleep. Some times it can take a few days to recover. The experienced outdoorsman usually has learned about "mal due racquette" many years previously and starts building up his muscles on short snowshoe trips before risking any long distance journeys.

Personally I learned my lesson the first time and went to considerable trouble to make sure it did not happen again. When it strikes you have trouble walking on flat snow free ground and shuffle along like a very old person. It can also strike the ankle joint but that usually occurs with people who are totally unfit and should stay home by the fireside.

Never go on a long snowshoe journey without making sure your companions are all fit. Society does not look kindly on people who abandon their trail mates and leave them behind to freeze or starve to death

A Perfect Landing

Back in the late 1960’s a Kenora, Ontario airline had two Grumman Goose airplanes they used for flying passengers. They were twin engine amphibian aircraft used mainly on the lakes but they had retractable wheels which allow them to land on a runway. This capability allowed them to pick up passengers at a regular airports and then fly them to remote lakes for fishing and hunting. The wheels were simply raised or lowered in flight, as the situation required.

It was mid summer and the pilot took off early one morning from the dirt runway at their air base located at Reddit, Ontario. He spent the entire day flying in and out of various lakes around Northwestern Ontario. Fishermen were picked up at the dock in Kenora and then taken to Tourist Camps to go fishing. Other guests were returned to Kenora after their fishing trips were concluded. The plane was landing and taking off on short hops between countless lakes all day long.

At the end of the day the pilot headed back to Redditt airbase where the plane was housed.

As he came in for the landing a mechanic was on the roof of the office adjusting one of the radio antennas. He heard the plane making the approach to land and noticed the pilot had forgotten to lower the wheels. The mechanic shouted a warning and waved his arms but the pilot did not notice him and could not hear him over the engine noise.

The pilot instantly realized the wheels were up when the keel of the hull touched the runway. It was too late to go around so he held the plane steady and the wings perfectly level until the forward motion stopped. At that moment one wing tipped downward until the wing pontoon touched the ground.

The pilot and the mechanics at the base went to work and jacked up the plane high enough to lower the wheels and then moved the aircraft off the runway and into the hanger. An inspection of the keel on the bottom of the hull showed a few scrape marks but no damage.
　
Management would never have been the wiser but for the fact that the mechanic on the roof got so excited trying to wave off the pilot that he lost his balance, slid down the roof and broke his leg..

The pilot made a perfect landing but the mechanic did not.
　

Black Ice

Black Ice is a term that sounds strange when heard for the first time, considering ice is more often white or even blue.

However, the term is a serious warning and a time to stop and be vigilant.

In the spring, as the weather warms up, the snow melts from the surface of the ice and leaves the typical slippery surface. As the sunny weather progresses, the rays of the sun begin to melt not only the overall surface of the ice but very small vertical channels into the ice.

The warm melt water looks for cracks and holes in the ice in a effort to reach the lake water. While this is taking place the temperature of the water slowly rises. The melting of the ice eventually reaches the point were the ice is filled with countless vertical holes that allow the lake water to rise in the ice and the ice in turn to sink lower in the water.

In the photo you can see the last stages of the ice melting from the lake. This ice has been pushed by the wind and current until it came ashore. It has been broken up into large sections and certainly appears too dangerous to walk on.

Before the ice reaches the break up stage a traveler can come upon a lake that looks safe, if one ignores the black appearance. The black indicates the water has risen through the ice and it is ready to shatter if you step on it. This condition can be very dangerous when traveling at night as it is difficult to see.

If rough water tosses black ice ashore it shatters into countless pieces that look like crystal candles.
The broken pieces that remain in the water will tinkle like small chimes as they bump into each other.
It can be a welcome sound as it confirms that spring is around the corner

The rule is that “black ice” is a warning that travel over the ice has ended and it is time to get the canoe or boat ready.

Breakfast with a Canada Jay

This bird is also known as a Whisky Jack, a name I prefer, but the name it deserves best is Camp Robber.

For more than ten years, I camped on a small island on a small lake about 20 miles north of Kenora, Ontario.

We had to make a portage into the first lake and then paddle our canoes to an island on the next lake. We spent many weekends and an occasional week on the island while we fished the lakes.

 We were regularly visited by one or two Whisky Jacks.

They would land in the pine trees at our camp site and quickly spot anything edible. If any food was left even for a second, they would dive down from a treetop, land beside the target, and just as quickly grab it in their bill and take off. They stashed the food in the top of the pine trees on the island and quickly returned for more.

When we were cooking our meals we made a point of leaving a few pieces of bread on the top of a tree stump so they would concentrate on the bait and leave our other food alone.

One particular morning we were making our breakfast consisting of bacon and eggs along with coffee and toast. We had a log laid along some rocks as a seat where we ate our meals. I had just finished frying the eggs sunny side up and shoveled them onto our plates along with a number of pieces of bacon. Len had made the toast.

I handed Len his bacon and eggs and sat down to eat mine. Len sat near me then realized he failed to get his coffee. He got up and set the plate on the log while he walked a couple of paces to grab his mug. His plate was no more than three feet from where I was sitting

During the time we were preparing our breakfast we had one determined Whiskey Jack that was making many trips, hauling away the small pieces of bread we set out for him. When Len left his plate to get the toast the Jay dropped out of the nearby tree and landed on the edge of Len’s plate.

I was watching the Jay out of the corner of my eye but could not wave him off as I held my plate in one hand and my coffee in the other. In a normal voice I said, “Len, look at your plate.”

Len turned and saw the Jay and at that moment the Jay made a hop from the edge of the plate and landed with both feet right in the middle of the soft yolk of an egg. Len yelled and said, “Hey, leave my egg alone.

Before Len could make a move the Jay bent over and picked up the edge of the second fried egg in his bill and flew off across the lake to the mainland a short distance away. We were both amazed that the Jay was able to hold onto the slippery white portion of the egg and yet not bite right through it. Off he sped with an entire fried egg hanging down from his bill and soon disappeared into the woods. It appears the egg was fried to perfection, as far as the Jay was concerned.

I was still laughing when Len sat down to eat his one remaining egg with the footprints of a Jay in it.
This was our last day at camp so we had no more eggs and Len had to be satisfied with extra toast.

Fish Spear Outpost

Gus had his own business. He owned a large bush plane on floats and a small float equipped two man plane which he was using at the time of this incident.

In the summer he flew groups of fishermen to northern lakes for some excellent fishing. He also owned three small cabins that he provided for fisherman that wished to stay on a remote lake for a week or a long weekend.

It was a small business but it provided him with a good living and enough to hire a few extra men to assist at the dock in Kenora, with loading and unloading passengers and equipment.

Once the ice was gone from the inland lakes, Gus and his assistant would fly to the cabins to clean them up and get them in order for guests. These were on remote lakes with no way in or out other than a plane. Each cabin had a boat and motor and when necessary they could fly in an additional boats and motors for a larger fishing & hunting parties.

On this particular day they had two of the cabins all shipshape so they took off and flew to the last cabin some distance further north. The weather was cool but it was a nice spring day. They cleaned the interior and did minor repairs to the dock and exterior of the cabin. The boat was in the water and the engine mounted and tested.

Winter winds had knocked down some dead trees and they had to clear them away from around the cabin.
The last job was to rake up all the dead leaves and make the place presentable. Gus was doing the raking and his assistant, Stan, was hauling the leaves away and dumping them in the bush.

There were a number of medium sized oak trees around the cabin. During the clean up they found an old rusty three-tined fish spear laying in the grass. It was picked up and leaned against one of the trees, resting on the broken wooden handle. . Half the handle had been broken off so the spear was shortened to about three feet long.

Later, Gus was raking and at the same time back up. The heel of his boot kicked the spear and knocked it sideways a foot or so but it was enough for Gus to lose his balance and start to fall backwards. It was a freak accident but as he fell backwards he sat down upon the tine ends of the upright spear. He immediately screamed in pain and fell sideways to the ground and passed out.

Stan was talking to him at the time and saw the whole thing take place. He rushed over to help and saw that that tines were sticking into Gus’s rear end. Stan tried to remove the spear but his friend had been impaled by the tines and they were sticking deeply into his posterior.

He ran to the plane and tried to radio for help but the radio would not work because of the surrounding rocky hills. They would have to be up in the air before it would have the range to reach Kenora. Stan once had a license to fly but he had not flown a float plane in many, many years.

He went back to Gus and was there when he woke up. He was in severe pain and bleeding badly. There was no way he was going to be able to get into the back seat of the airplane impaled by the spear. Stan made an attempt to remove the spear but as soon as he touched the handled Gus screamed and passed out again.

It was obvious that Gus needed to get to a hospital as fast as possible. The handle of the spear had to be removed in some manner. A careful check of the toolbox on the plane and around the cabin failed to locate anything that would cut the wooden spear handle. After a desperate search Stan found an old rusty hacksaw blade in the bottom of the tool box. It was the only thing that might work so he had to use it.

He started sawing on the wooden handle where it was fastened the head of the spear. As soon as he started Gus reacted to the pain and passed out. Stan kept sawing and it took over two hours to saw the handle off. Gus kept waking up and then passing out again from the pain.

Even with the handle off there was no way Gus was going to be able to sit in the back seat of the airplane.
After thinking things over Stan ripped the fabric of the plane off the side of the tail and made an opening where he could stuff Gus into the plane behind the second seat. It was very difficult to do, considering the plane was on floats and bobbing up and down in the lake beside the dock.

Once Gus was safely on board Stan had to refresh his memory on how to start up the engine and fly the plane. In the end he managed to taxi down to the end of the lake and safely take off. Once he was in the air he radioed for help and made arrangements for the hospital staff to be at the hospital dock in Kenora.
The Kenora General Hospital sat high on a rocky hill near, but above the lake. They had their own dock in order to receive boats and planes with injured people such as this case.

Stan soon landed in the bay at Kenora and taxied up the hospital dock. Gus was quickly and carefully moved out of the tail of the plane and taken to the emergency room.

He was in the operating room for more than six hours while they tried to remove the spear. Two tines of the spear had pierced his colon (lower part of his intestine) and the barbs made it very difficult to remove without cause further damage. Eventually they removed the spear and Gus spent a long time recovering. In addition to all the damage, infection was the biggest concern. The tines were covered not only in rust and dirt, but fish skin and guts.

Happy to say, Gus made a full recovery but only after many months of hospital care. He returned to his love of flying and is again running his business.

Had he been alone at the time the accident occurred he may have bled to death before anyone would have realized he was missing.

Separation Lake Hunting & Rescue (Part 3 of 3 parts)

Read parts 1 and 2 first.

The next stage was to go back up the rapids and pick up the two Indians on shore. The male Indian in our boat went up the slope and helped the older Indian get the drunken one onto his feet. It was quite a challenge for them to get him down the slope and into the boat without drowning us all. He was so unsteady on his feet that he had no balance.

Eventually we had all four aboard so that the six of us almost overloaded our boat. I t was a slow and careful run back to the camp where we dropped off the four Indians at their cabin. The large drunk Indian was the cause of the accident and the others were not very friendly or sympathetic with him in the slightest.
It was a glum and quiet boat ride back to the camp.

The fellow whose parents managed the camp knew everyone who was rescued and he spent some time with them later to find out what happened. The married couple spoke English very well but were shy with us so we had not pressed them for information while in the boat.

The couple were the ones who were paid to stay at the camp until the lake froze. The older man that stayed in the camp and the other older Indian we rescued first was also part of the original group. The drunken Indian’s name was Joe Indian. We confirmed later that that was truly the name he was known by.

When the couple went to get more supplies to last them through the freeze up the oldest Indian stayed behind at the camp to protect it. The other older Indian went to town with them. When they had obtained their supplies and were loading their boat, Joe Indian had shown up and demanded to be taken along with them. He had been drinking and was difficult to handle so they just let him come along too.

When they were almost at the camp he started complaining that they were going the wrong way and running the boat wrong. Just before they reached the rapids he stood up in the boat and tried to get to the motor. He lost his balance and when he fell his large weight on the side of the boat caused it to swamp and fill with water. All the groceries in the boat had made it unstable and did not help the situation.

When the boat overturned they were all thrown into the water. The couple manage to swim to the reef and get out of the freezing cold water. The current swept the other two, along with the boat to the south shore where they were able to grab some bushes and climb ashore.

No one had a watch but it was estimated that the accident occurred about 4 pm as it did not take very long before it started to get dark. The Indian we first met on the shore had a couple of bottles of rum with him in the boat and he manage to save them and get ashore with his pack sack. Nothing else was saved in the entire boat.

The two groups stood there soaking wet in the cold and twenty miles as the crow flies from home. They were not aware that our group was going to be at the cabin so they believed they were all alone. Just before dark they heard the motors from our boats as we returned from camping and they knew that we had to be staying at the camp as there was no other camps for many miles and they were all closed. The old Indian at the camp could not run a boat as he was too old.

The couple on the reef were trapped and would not last long standing in the water and being splashed by the rapids. The other man was too drunk to help even himself . The older Indian took it upon himself to go for help, but first he hid his pack with the two bottles of rum under the tree branches.
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By this time is was pitch dark and very difficult to see much. He had grabbed a paddle while in the water as he could not swim. He manage to go ashore with his paddle and kept it with him on his long walk. Because the shore line was very rough and uneven he was forced to walk many miles to reach the point where we picked him up. We realized that he had been walking for at least ten hours in the dark while soaking wet with nothing to eat.

They were very lucky there had been no wind or we would have never heard him calling for help. As it was ,he had been calling for a long time when we reached him. A cold wind would also have killed the pair on the reef in a short period of time.

We would have found them on the reef on our trip home on Sunday evening but by then they would have died. I was very surprised by the attitude of the couple we plucked off the reef. We had never met before but they got into the boat and acted as if we had simply picked them up at a bus stop. A white couple experiencing this situation would have been reduced to shear panic and collapsed when rescued. I was very impressed by their calmness and fortitude.

Later we learned that the reason the Indian we first saved was so mad when he saw the other Indian laying there drunk, was he realized the Joe Indian had found his pack with the two bottles of rum. He should have been cold sober after ten hours instead he was drunk again. He managed to drink them both while his friend walked ten hours to save them all.

That day we finished our hunt, packed up and headed for home with our loaded boats and six deer. The temperature dropped on the ride back to the Indian Reserve and all the bays and quiet waters had already frozen over. That night the temperature plunged and by morning the lakes were all frozen over and only the fast moving waters in the current remained open.

Had we stayed another day we would not have got home with out great difficulty. If we had not rescued them when we did, the four Indians would have died before anyone knew they had lost the boat and were marooned without food or shelter.
　

Separation Lake Hunting & Rescue (Part 2 of 3 parts)

Part 2, read part 1 first.

I awoke in the middle of the night but did not understand what woke me. I lay there in the silence for awhile then I heard two of our group talking. They were standing outside.

I got up to find out what the matter was and quickly learned that one had got up to go to the bathroom but heard someone calling. We stood out side listening and then I heard it.

 It was a faint long drawn out hellooooooow. Then it repeated.

It was pitch dark outside and cold. At first we thought it was some other group hunting and we were hearing one of the drivers. That made no sense because it was too dark to be hunting and no one else had been seen on our trip in. We would have noticed any other hunters camp or boats.

It was too cold so I went back in and got a jacket on. When I came back out the rest of the group was up and listening. We kept hearing the long hellos about every five minutes. I was the oldest person in the group and having been a policeman in my past, they looked to me for answers.

The sound was coming from the most distant part of the lake which had to be almost two miles away. There was no wind so the yell was reaching us from a great distance. After listening for about fifteen minutes I decided the someone needed help and probably could see the lights from our camp. I went back inside and got properly dressed. One other fellow said he would go with me and he dressed quickly
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We took one of the boats and once we started the engine it would be impossible to hear the calling so it was important to get a bearing on the sound. We then headed in that direction and after a five minute run we shut off the motor and then sat there in the silence in the middle of the lake. After a short spell we heard the hellooooo and it was getting closer.

It took three or four runs across the lake with the stop to listen, before we got close to the opposite shore. Each time we stopped the sound was louder and we got a better idea of where it was coming from.

With the aid of a spot light we checked the shore line but from a distance, because of all the rocks and reefs that were waiting for us in the dark waters. Eventually our spot light picked out a man standing on the shoreline leaning on a stick which later turned out to be a paddle. We then slowly picked our way around the rocks until we reached the shore. Once the boat nosed up on the shore I could see the man was an Indian, about sixty years of age. He could not speak English very well and I could not speak Ojibwa so to communicate was difficult.

We stood in the boat and he stood on the shore while we tried to understand was he was saying. He kept pointing to the lake and made a motion as if to indicate something or someone was around the corner. He pointed to the paddle and again pointed with it back down the lake to the east, towards the river.

We got him in the boat and once we got away from the rocky shore he pointed down the lake. He did not seem to be injured in anyway but he appeared to have been in the water at some point. As we headed down the lake we proceeded slowly as it was difficult to see in the dark. The sky was starting to get lighter and sunrise should occur shortly.

After about twenty minutes of slowly running along the shore line we suddenly saw some oranges floating in the water. The Indian pointed to the oranges, grabbed one as we passed, then pointed to himself and then pointed further east. By now we were entering the river portion of the lake where there was current. We passed more floating groceries, all strung in a line from the current. At this point it seemed obvious that the Indian’s boat had swamped.

When I saw a couple of life jackets and another paddle I became concerned he had not been alone and told my young companion to be on the lookout for another person or body. While we were now in the current, the shoreline we were passing was not continuous. We were passing many small bays and points so we went by them slow enough to check them with the spotlight. Each time we did so the Indian kept point up the river.

At this point we had been traveling about a half hour and that was when we saw the nose of a boat sticking out of the water. The boat was completely vertical in the water with just a few inches of the bow showing. As it bobbed along in the current the nose would bob up and down and that was what drew our attention.

The Indian nodded his head up and down, pointed to the boat and then further up stream.
The water was now flowing much faster as we were approaching the narrowest section of the river. There was a large rocky reef in the middle of the river and the water flowing on each side was very rough and rapid.

By now the sun was coming up and we could see much better. The Indian was standing up and pointing to the right bank which sloped up steeply from the river. It had only a few trees on it but the open area was surrounded in heavy woods.

Suddenly the Indian got very excided and was yelling and pointing higher up on the shore. We could see the body of a large person lying on his back but not moving. The Indian in the boat wanted to go ashore so we moved the side of the boat to the rocks and we grabbed onto some small brush. The current was so swift we had to keep the motor running at about half throttle to stay in position long enough for the Indian to jump out.

We watched him run up the steep slope to a large thick pine tree on the right. He crawled under the tree and then came out holding an empty packsack. When he had searched it for the second time he dropped it and then ran up the hill cursing the fellow laying on the ground. He kicked him in the leg a couple of time while continuing to shout and yell. The big fellow sat up, looked around and then fell back down in a drunken stupor with an empty rum bottle in his hand.

As this little scenario was taking place he heard a shout from the middle of the river, but further up stream.
There on the small rocky island in the middle of the rushing current stood a young Indian couple. We now had two more people in need of help. They stood there waving their arms and yelling to attract our attention.

We instantly switched our attention from the two on shore to the two standing in a very precarious position.
It took only a few minutes to swing away from the shore and out into the middle of the rapids. The island was more like a rocky reef that would be completely underwater most of the year. Because this was late fall the river had dropped and exposed the jagged reef of sharp rock.

We slowly approached the reef from down stream but had to have the motor at almost full speed to get closer. The danger was the propeler could hit some rocks before the nose of the boat was close enough for them to grab. We managed to get close enough for the man to grab the nose and he then help his wife aboard. When she was safe, he quickly jumped in the boat and then the current just as quickly swept us backwards and down river.

Once everyone was safely on board and sitting down we started asking question. The first thing to be determined was if there were any more of them that needed rescuing. We were happy to learn there had only been four occupants in the boat.

End of part 2 of 3 parts

Separation Lake Hunting and Rescue - Part 1 of 3 parts

It started as a two man deer hunting trip and grew until there was six of us.

We drove north from Kenora, Ontario up the Jones road about fifty miles to the Grassy Narrows Indian Reserve where we left the vehicles. We put the three boats into the English River and headed west, down stream.

The English River flows in a westward direction through a chain of lakes from the dam at Ear Falls until it joins the Winnipeg River’ close to the Manitoba and Ontario border. Our destination was a large Tourist camp that sits on Separation Lake.

It was late October and the camp had already been closed for the winter. One of the members of our group knew the area well as he had spent many summers as a fishing guide at the camp. His parents managed the camp and he obtained their permission for us to use a couple of the cabins.

During the twenty five mile boat trip down the English river and through the lakes we failed to see another hunting party or anyone else for the matter. It could turn cold very rapidly and freeze the lakes and rivers so you could get trapped by the ice if you were not careful. Our plan was to hunt Saturday after noon and stay overnight. The following day we would continue hunting but quit early enough to make our way back to the landing where the vehicles were parked.

To protect the camp from vandalism during the hunting season, a couple of Indian summer guides were hired to stay at the camp. They came from the Grassy Narrows reserve, where we left our vehicle. They would stay at the camp until the lake had frozen and was safe enough for a plane on skis to land and pick them up. They would finish closing the camp and fly back home the twenty five miles to the reserve.

When we arrived at the camp only one older Indian was there. The rest had gone back to the reserve by boat and into Kenora to pick up enough groceries to last them until freeze up. This was an annual ritual that had been going on for a long time.

Once we had unpacked our gear and settled into a cabin we arranged to spend the rest of the day hunting.
With two hunters to each boat we set off to hunt the many islands on the lake. We had done this before so we had a system. We would go to a medium sized island and look for deer tracks in the snow.

Once we established that there were deer on and island we would go by boat to the opposite end. The first hunter would be let off with just a shotgun. The second hunter would take the boat back to the other end, where we had seen the tracks. The hunter with the shotgun would start to drive the island and he would shoot any Ruff Grouse he flushed. He would walk a zig zag path in order to drive the deer ahead of him. He would shout once in a while so that the posted hunter would know where he was.

The hunter in the boat would go ashore and find a good place to view any deer that were driven his way. This system worked most of the time but some deer were smart enough to leave the island and swim out of danger. Usually a single shot was enough to down your deer. The kill was always close to the boat so it made the recovery of the game easy.

At the end of the first day we had three deer and many grouse. It had been a long day so after a few drinks we made plans for the next days hunting. We were all in bed early, as Sunday was going to be a busy day.

Read parts 2 and 3 that follow.

Tern Island Nesting Colony

Within ten miles of the north end of Lake of the woods lies a small rocky island. It is almost round and sits low in the water and does not contain a single shrub or bush. At most, it is fifty feet across. It is just one of the fourteen thousand islands on the lake.

In the early spring, hundreds of Common Tern nest on this little island .that sits off the path of the normal boating traffic They lay one or two eggs amongst the rocks and build what we would call a rather sparse nest..

Once the eggs hatch the traffic over and around the island grows as the parents make countless trips to feed minnows to the hungry chicks. Any visitor causes the parents to hover above the island, making a horrible ruckus and frequent diving attacks directed at your head.

When ever I was canoeing in the area I would ease by the island to see all the eggs or how the hatch was going. I would stay only a few seconds and then move on before I was deafened by all the commotion.

One particular year I arrived after all the eggs had hatched and the young terns were old enough to be walking around on the island. Out of the hundreds of young birds, dozens would be in the water, bobbing about near the shore like little corks.

They could paddle about awkwardly and did not go more than a few feet from the shore. They were adding to their diet by picking up bugs and beetles in the water.

I drifted slowly towards the island and sat in the canoe quietly without moving. I was to the point that I had a few young terns in the water with in a few feet of the canoe. The parents were not too disturbed as the chicks were getting to the stage where they could look after themselves, but could not yet fly.

Once chick in particular was very close so I decided to try and get a photo. I shifted my eyes to the camera lying in the bottom of the canoe and as I picked it up I heard a splash near the young tern. When I looked at the spot where he had been floating, all that remained was a small swirl in the water and a few bubbles.

My first thought was it had dived underwater to catch a small fish or a bug. Then I realized the chicks were too young and too buoyant to dive. They floated high in the water like a bundle of fluff.

I had no idea what happened so I continued to sit there very quietly looking at the other tern chicks that were near to me. After about five minutes I saw the open jaws of a very large Northern Muskellunge rise out of the water below a tern. The huge mouth full of teeth engulfed the chick then snapped shut as it sank back below the water.

It was all done in seconds with hardly a ripple in the water and failed to disturbed the other chicks nearby, which had not the slightest idea of what had just occurred. It was a disturbing view of mother nature at work.
Like a fool I started to chase the chicks that were in the water, with my canoe and paddle and forced them to get back on the island. After about fifteen minutes I had them all on the island but everyone was rather worked up with my interference. Even the adult Terns were upset with my actions.
　
When I was done I continued on my trip feeling that I had made a difference in saving many young terns.
An hour or so later, on my way back home I passed by he island and once again a dozen or so tern were bobbing about in the water near the shore.

I paused paddling and sat there long enough to see two more Terns sucked down into the jaws of death.
Since it was obvious I could not remain at the island for the next two weeks protecting Terns and waiting for them to learn how to fly, I moved on and left things in the hands of mother nature.

Later I realized that there were thousands of Terns on the lake and if the muskies did not take their share there would soon be thousands more and eventually millions, and not enough food to support them all.
It is a tough world out there and it has been working fine for millions of years before man came along.
Terns have been around long before man showed up and they will probably outlast us all.

I decided to mind my own business and let mother nature take care of hers.
　
　
　

A dark winter night on a lonly road.

Minaki, Ontario is a small town that sits about forty miles north of Kenora on a very winding road that weaves its way around many small lakes on its journey north. Add in all the tree covered hills, swamps and rocks and it becomes a drive where the driver has to stay alert, especially at night.

Minaki Lodge was a great fishing resort and was the backbone of the town until it burned down..
It is still a great fishing destination with all its many smaller fishing lodges and camps. In winter the tourist all go home and traffic in the town and on the road drops off drastically. It can be a dull and boring place during the winter.

Some forty years ago the owner of a small grocery store in Minaki use to drive into Kenora on a regular basis to pick up supplies. He had a large station wagon and it was usually piled high on the home bound trip.

One evening, after loading up the station wagon, the store owner and his assistant started on the journey home. It was very dark and cold and they could not wait to get safely home. The car headlights were acting up and once in a while they would flutter, go out, then come back on. The driver was beginning to regret that he had not taken the time to get it repaired. Once the vehicle warmed up the problem seemed to go away.

The road was good, having been plowed recently, but because the vehicle was overload it was difficult to steer. About three quarters of the way home the two occupants were chatting away when suddenly the lights on the vehicle went out and stayed out. Everything turned pitch black and they could not see a thing. Before the brakes could be applied, the vehicle left the road on a curve and smashed into some very large rocks, after knocking over a few trees.

Once they came to a stop they found they were buried in all of the groceries that flew forward from the back of the loaded vehicle. It took some time to dig out from under all the cans and boxes and get out of the badly damaged vehicle. Once they were standing outside they realized that other than a few bumps and bruises they were both fine.

The vehicle on the other had was badly damaged and might not be repairable. The front of the car was smashed in, the radiator was leaking so that antifreeze and oil was spilling out onto the ground. The battery had also been smashed so they had no lights and no flashlight.

The vehicle had come to rest about 20 feet from the road and was hidden behind some small trees and bushes that had returned upright, after being run over.

The driver told his helper to get up onto the road and wave down the next vehicle. It was a difficult stumbling trip up to the road over all the rocks and bushes because it was pitch dark. After a short time a vehicle came by heading north and the young man stood there on the side of the road waving his hands. When the headlights of the car shone on him, the car suddenly increased speed and raced away without slowing down.

After this had happened a couple of times the grocer stumbled his way up to stand with the boy but the same thing occurred. At this point it was getting late and they were getting cold. They decided they were going to have to stand out in the middle of the road and force someone to stop and aid them. The curve in the road made it impossible for the drivers to see them until the last moment.

The next car arrived about a quarter of an hour later and the two men stepped out onto the road in front of the car and waived their hands in the air. The driver slammed on the brakes, swerved, and just missed the two. The man and the boy ran up to the drivers door. The grocer recognized the driver as an old friend and yelled at him as he yanked open the door. “Why the hell didn’t you stop when you saw us. You know who we are!”

At this point the driver seemed to relax and then he started laughing. He and his wife got out of their car and stood there in the center of the road in the middle of the wilderness, laughing and pointing at the pair standing in the beam of the headlights.

It was not long before everything started to make sense. When the station wagon crashed into the ditch and all the contents flew forward, a large sack of flower ripped open and covered everything and every one in the car with flower.

Because the station wagon occupants had no lights they did not realized they were covered in flower from head to toe. Later, they learned that the first few cars that passed the boy standing on the side of the road, had a fright and thought they had seen a ghost and kept right on going.

When the last driver saw the man and the boy step onto the road in front of him he thought the same thing.
If his car had not stalled, he later confessed, he would have sped away as fast as he could.

Once they all got to Minaki a tow truck soon had the wrecked vehicle back home. The entire interior was covered in a coating of flower, as was every bit of the contents. Both occupants had flower down their neck and in their ears and hair and had quit the time cleaning it off their clothes.

The story of the two ghosts that were seen near Catastrophe Lake went the rounds and soon every resident in the community heard the tale. It was told and retold many times with gales of laughter.

For many weeks after, the two ghosts got free drinks and a request to retell the story, when ever they appeared in a coffee shop or bar. It helped pass an otherwise dull winter in the North woods.