outdoors

Hunters and Gatherers

2013-02-05 10.20.10

Food for the pot (Picture by Eric Cooper)

Growing up back home, meat and vegetables often came from your own provisions, getting to a grocery store became more and more prominent as I grew up, but most peoples families still subsidized the pot by whatever we could get on our own.  Nearly everyone had a potato garden, and some grew a few more things, carrots, turnip, cabbage.  I remember a lot of people grew the Newfoundland Blue potato.  I’ve seen blue potatoes since, but those all seem to have blue flesh too, the ones we had just had blue veins running through the white flesh.

Of course Newfoundland was famous for its fish, and we all had salt fish put away, as well as dried and smoked caplin.  Will have to post another day about those topics.  But we also hunted.  Hunting wasn’t and isn’t a sport back home, at least not in the terms of the big hunting lodges.  People enjoy it yes, but we also hunt to eat.  With the salaries, or lack there of, or even lack of jobs or work back home, people hunted duck, geese, moose, caribou, turrs, seal, pretty much anything to help fill our bellies, including the lovely rabbit shown here (Technically there are no rabbits on Newfoundland Island, or weren’t at least, this is a Snowshoe Hare, but rabbit is what we called it and I always will).

People also weren’t into things for money either.  If you had plenty you shared, and got shared with in return.  I remember lots of trades of food over the years.  A quarter of moose for some vegetables from Bill Smith (Bill was the king gardener back home, probably still is, even if he is in his 80s!), some rabbits for a leg of mutton from Jim Phillips, and so on.

The meat and food was healthier too, wasn’t sitting in a cage being force fed to get fat, most of our meats were really lean, and our vegetables were fertilized with manure, seaweed and fish offal, not manufactured chemicals.

But really, we never thought about that, we just thought about fun in the outdoors, and getting food to keep us all through the long winter.  I’d give a lot to be sitting down to the smell of that rabbit smothered in onions wafting from the roaster now.

Cabins in the Woods

As adults we all know the lure of the cabin in the woods, to be able to relax, no electricity, no phones, nothing but birds and relaxation.  But as boys we too seemed to have a fascination with cabins, or at least we did back home.  I can’t even begin to count how many were made over the years.

The most elaborate I remember was mainly built by my brother Keith and Lorne Patey in by the brook in Apsey Brook.  They picked a flat piece of land, that was near the woods path that went in across Uncle Ingham Smith’s garden, we just had to scramble up and down over the bank.  I really don’t remember how old we were, but I remember they knocked down logs and used as a base, and built a floor upon it.  We had a 45 gallon drum with a stove pipe coming out for a stove, and they at least ( I don’t think I ever slept there, or was allowed, or something) had hammocks hung to sleep in.  Yet my biggest memory somehow seems to be looking at our old collections of hockey cards in there.  We had many a full set all kept in special cardboard lockers that were issued for each season. I’m not sure what became of it, maybe the cabin is still there, but more likely it washed away at some point.  And if it hadn’t before, I’m sure hurricane Igor did the job on it.

The last I remember was built up in the woods behind our house, not far in, but not on any path either.  It was basically a shack with a sloped roof, but was always a fun place to go and sit and chat with friends.  I’d say that one has tumbled down long ago as it wasn’t nearly as sturdy, but it was fun, made of planks likely from Dad’s old mill, a door made for it, using pieces of rubber nailed to it for hinges, and a wooden knob pivoting on a nail to keep the door shut on the inside, and a bar and slot to keep it closed when we left.  Not that snow didn’t blow in underneath anyway!

And then of course as we got older, Barry Cooper had a great couple of cabins in Snook’s Harbour down by the water.  I can’t comment on the building of those, but they were much better built than those we built as boys. He had a big wooden table and a couple of bench seats pulled from an old car somewhere.  We’d head there and play cards, have a few beer, and generally use them as our party location.

Another fond memory of growing up.  Do kids back home still make cabins anymore? Of course there aren’t 2 or 3 sawmills in every community now either, so supplies aren’t as easy to come by.

Tunnels and Forts

I grew up, well as much growing up as I did anyway, back in the 70’s and 80’s.  We had a pet rabbit back then, named Flip Flop, because of his habit of flip flopping which ear he had up and which he laid flat.  As he was terrified of being out loose, my dad made this long cage for him to run, and it was connected to our woodhouse with a little hole to an inside cage in the warm.

In winter Flip Flop would make tunnels in the snow in this cage and you could see him running flat out through them.  Us kids too loved to make tunnels in the snow, I was a small brat of a boy, and didn’t need a lot of snow for them, but it also seemed we had more snow back in those days.  I can remember wiggling through tunnels in the snow banks both short and long.

Just to the left of this picture would have been a clothesline stand dad had made, attached to the woodhouse, climbing up a few steps nearly to the roof, with a clothesline mounted a pole from it, with a pulley to string out the clothes.  In winter this would usually drift in, and it was my favorite spot to tunnel.  I could dig a hole under the bottom step, and get under the wooden stand, digging it out and wiggling myself into a cozy warm little house.  Being a loner even then, I could spend hours in there making my plans for world domination in my captain Nemo submarine, with my underground fortress buried in under Granny Walters Hill.  Somehow that fortress still needs to take shape 🙂

Don’t forget being a kid folks, go play in the snow when you can!

It Only Happened Once

One of the infuriating things about my buddy Eric was that he ALWAYS beat me trouting.  We have trouted in some pretty out of the way places back home, scrabbling over deadfalls, walking through the thick woods where there was no path, one day, maybe more, taking off our or at least my shirt(s) and wetting it in a bog hole to get cool.  And I loved it, its a peaceful experience just being out there with no noises but birds and insects.  Well except for getting the crap scared out of you when a snipe flew up in your face! Holy god they startled ya!

I remember one summer trip in particular, Eric and I got up about 6 and headed off in the country, making our way to Smith’s Long Pond.  I know he definetly beat me again that day, can’t say how by how many, but I think the most memorable part was Vince Smith looking at us when we walked out the path and said “Trouting? TODAY? I looked at the thermometer on my patio at about 3 o’clock and it was 34 degrees!”.  You can only imagine how hot we were after beating through the woods.  And we both had raccoon faces after from our glasses blocking the sun.

Once though and only once I beat him.  It was different than those trips because it was an ice fishing trip to Island pond.  I’ve never really had a lot of luck ice fishing, but it was always a great day to get out for a boil up if nothing else.  Island pond could also be reluctant to give up trout at the best of times, but because they were so good, we kept trying.  This one day, we were fishing down the end of the pond, and I can recall beating him vividly.  The tally was pretty easy to take though, I got one, he got none.