Читать книгу Ten Bridges Seven Churches No Stop Light - Rodney Earl Andrews - Страница 6

November first, the deer hunting season opened for a two-week period. Rifles and shotguns were both allowed in our area. Most hunters preferred using a rifle as it had a much longer range than a shotgun. Deer licences were issued by the provincial government along with a steel self-sealing tag to be inserted through the leg of the deer just above the hoof, as soon as the deer dropped. This is when a sharp knife came in handy. Many hunters put themselves in a jam with game wardens by not putting on their tags before bringing carcasses out of the woods to camp. Deer were plentiful and licences were issued - one per hunter and one for the camp kitchen.

Each November, Norwood District High School had a drop in the attendance of young male students, as a father’s invitation to go to hunting camp was more attractive than the option of going to classes and doing homework. Teachers at the school knew students would be missing. Serious students would catch up when they got back. Yet, somehow, important tests and assignments were always scheduled around those first two weeks of November.

This would be Jake’s second year in the hunting camp. Jake was fourteen. He purchased his first rifle when he turned twelve. Jake wanted a .22 calibre single shot rifle to go groundhog and rabbit hunting.

In those days, in the late-fifties, you never asked your parents to take you to town. You just hitch-hiked on Highway # 7 into Peterborough with or without a friend. One spring Saturday morning Jake hitched a ride into Peterborough. This particular Saturday morning, he got a lift with Jack Warner, the owner of the fuel oil depot in Norwood. Jack drove a four or five-year-old Olds 98 and was going into Peterborough on business of some sort. The conversation got around to why Jake was going into town. Jack was pleased that his hitchhiker was a local boy, interested in getting rid of groundhogs, pesky creatures that created dangerous holes in which farm machinery broke axles and animals broke legs.

Jake was always amazed at the older men in town who could roll their own cigarettes. Jack Warner was an expert. On the stretch of highway going west, before the hill to Indian River, Jack pulled out to pass a truck, and at the same time, pulled out his tobacco pouch and papers. In the time it took him to put the tobacco on the paper, roll the cigarette, lick the glued edge, and strike the wooden match on the dash, he had passed the truck. This was all accomplished by steering with one hand and his left knee.

After that trip, Jake tried and perfected the ability to find a paper and fill it with tobacco and lick and light with one hand. He nicknamed his cigarettes “the Jack’s.” The pool hall crowd at Katie’s was impressed the first time he performed the feat, and they soon copied this crowd-pleaser.

Getting dropped off on Lansdowne Street meant walking north on George Street to the Woolworth’s Department Store. The store was located on the corner of Charlotte and George. The gun section was downstairs next to the budgie and other song birds’ sales counter. Exactly eleven dollars and ninety-five cents was carefully counted out and the new .22 was his. No tax, since this was a few years before the so-called temporary federal and provincial sales taxes were introduced.

The middle-aged sales lady carefully put his new purchase into its cardboard gun case and thoughtfully brought to Jake’s attention that he needed ammunition. Jake had forgotten about that but did have the money to purchase two boxes of bullets. There were fifty per box. He took his brother’s advice and got longs, ammunition with a bit longer lead and more powder, so it would carry farther to the target. Later, his brother Harvey would show him how to drill a hole in the end of the lead to turn his longs into mushroom bullets to save an additional five cents per box.

Jake could hardly wait to get home. Walking south on George Street to Lansdowne seemed to take forever. When he reached the restaurant beside the Memorial Centre, he remembered that the extra money he had saved was intended for lunch. The restaurant on the southeast corner had the reputation of having the best fish and chips in town. They wrapped up your order in newspapers and it would stay warm until you got home. This would be a real surprise for his family. Today, there would be a treat to take home.

When Jake got home, his older brother admired the rifle and showed Jake how to use a rod to push string through the barrel and then, after removing the rod, how to pull the string and a wadded cloth full of oil slowly out of the barrel, removing all the little specks of lead and powder that were left in the spiral rifling. This procedure would have to be done two or three times until the barrel was perfectly clean. The rifling is the spiral etched into the inside wall of a barrel that turns the lead shot of the bullet into a twisting projectile. This keeps the shot more on target than if there is no rifling and the barrel has a smooth wall like that in a shotgun.

“Remember, Jake, always clean your .22 after you use it and then oil it. Keep it under your bed in this old towel, safe and sound. Don’t leave bullets in it and leave the safety on.” That was the end of that Hunter Safety Course. Jake had tailed his brother on so many hunts that he knew inside and out what to do and not to do with a rifle.

This year at hunting camp, Jake would use one of his Uncle Ross’ deer rifles. His single shot .22 was not a suitable rifle for the deer hunt, as you wanted to be able to shoot a long straight distance and bring down your prize cleanly. He hoped to get his deer-hunting rifle on his sixteenth birthday - a lever action one like his grandfather’s. It looked like the rifle that “The Rifleman” used on that television show. Jake was busy saving for something he really wanted and was prepared to wait another two years to acquire it. He knew that his parents could not afford to give him such an expensive gift for his sixteenth birthday. He also wanted to put notches on his own rifle.

Going to hunting camp was one of the major events of the year. In this camp, there were seven men, of which, Jake was the youngest. Seven men hunted, ate, played cards, drank, slept, and lived with each other for one or two weeks. Many years, it was three or four days, not two weeks. Once your limit was killed, camp broke for the year.

Deer have favourite paths or runs that they prefer to travel on and each person in the hunt camp would be assigned a run with an exact spot to wait for deer. At daylight you were on this run for at least two hours and, just before dark, you were on the same run for an hour. Deer are nocturnal, feeding at night and bedding down during the daylight hours. At dawn and dusk they are on the move. Deer can be persuaded to move faster if there is a trained dog running on their scent.

Hounds would be released in the morning on the main run. Their barking, sniffing, and howling would move the deer along the runways. You would get only one clean shot, if you were lucky, and the rule in this camp was that during the first week, you could shoot only at bucks, the male deer. Their horns would be easy to spot. Does were protected so they could have fawns the next spring, thus increasing the deer supply. In the years that deer were low in numbers, the buck rule was followed exclusively, and during the years of plenty, does did not have to be shot. Some camps in the area shot everything and even killed yearling fawns. This Norwood camp was a buck camp and these hunters looked down on other camps’ traditions. Jake, being a teenager, thought it must be cool for the surviving bucks, which could have a harem.

The hunting camp was at the north end of Concession Eleven in Dummer Township and as far back in the cedar woods as a good half-ton truck could carry a full load. It was important to take a compass into the woods. To the north was a stretch of land over ten miles long with no roads and only man-made trails to find a way out. If you got lost, you might circle for a day or two, until a search party found you.

There was no electricity, no running water, no phone, but there was a two-seater outhouse. Modern times had come and the catalogue from Eaton’s or Sears was no longer hung on a hanger. Instead, modern toilet paper, carefully placed in a waterproof, mouse-proof can, was always available to do the job. Shiny catalogue paper was not missed. It did, however, provide reading material when time to wait was required.

Water had to be trucked in and old cream cans with their tight-fitting lids worked well. Groceries and necessities were trucked in on the first day, as few men wanted to leave camp to go to town or home to get something they had forgotten. The Camp List grew longer every year, and soon it took more that one truckload to bring everything into camp. Wood, cigar, pipe, and cigarette smoke filled the camp, because in the fifties, just about everyone smoked or chewed something. One tradition, that remains today, is that the mattresses were filled with fresh straw each year. It was one person’s responsibility to get fresh straw and fill each mattress cover. Old timers loved the smell and the texture of their beds. It brought back memories of the days when they would be sent off to the woods to cut firewood for the winter. Straw mattresses were used only for the hunt and, at the break-up of camp; they were emptied outside to make a pile of bedding for deer or a home for all sorts of small animals and rodents. Leaving the straw inside invited mice to take up residence and make a mess that had to be cleaned the following year.

The duties of all seven men in the hunt camp were sorted out in advance each year. No one needed to be reminded or told twice what his responsibilities were. Jake, being the youngest and the most recent member, was in charge of firewood and garbage. Each year, firewood would be cut, split, and piled so it was dry for the next season. Small limbs of wood and finely-split hardwood were piled for the cook stove and larger chunks were piled separately for the box stove that heated the balance of the camp. These two stoves would use almost two cords of wood if the hunt lasted a week, and double if they needed the second week. If it turned cold and snowy, you burned more. During the day, when Jake was not hunting, he was busy cutting and gathering wood for next year. Most men would rather be out working than sitting around, so Jake did not have to do all the work by himself. A couple of short days, and cut wood was brought back to camp. Then Jake could build his muscles splitting and piling.

Garbage detail was easy, as garbage was wrapped and burned in the box stove along with the wood. Only cans and glass jars were bagged and taken out of camp. Leaving any garbage around invited black bears to break into camp and rummage around for a snack. Bears would not come near the camp during hunting season as most camps had bear licences and bears would be shot. Bear meat is very tasty and any game, including the venison, was divided among the hunters at the end of camp. Ron, one of the camp crew, hunted game all year and had a trapping licence. Extra bear meat would help fill his family’s freezer. He would not allow his family to eat any store-bought meat as he said he did not trust what was in the meat. He knew wild game was good and he wanted his family to eat healthy.

The hunt camp was a good size, twenty feet by twenty-four feet, with a kitchen and dining room table at one end and four sets of bunks and a double bed at the other end of the large open room. The kitchen sink’s grey water ran out into a forty-gallon steel drum that was buried in a hole with a lot of gravel around it for suitable drainage. Grey water included all used water, except for the flushing water from a toilet.

Extra beds were for visitors who dropped in during the hunt. As the evening wore on, somehow some hunters could not find their legs to go home and there was no need for someone to take them home. Jake’s dad would hide their truck keys and the men never could find them, even if they wanted to go home. Men looked after each other, in camp and out.

One tradition Jake found interesting was that all the chairs were hung on the wall after the meal and were taken down only if the men wanted to play cards or sit around the stove in the candlelight, when all the catch-up stories would be spun out for the fun of the evening. Hanging the chairs up on the wall created more space and it also made it very easy to sweep the floor and to clean up.

This was a typical camp. During the day, the men did not want to be inside and found ways to busy themselves out and about. Manley, a finishing carpenter, always had something to keep every idle hand busy. One year they might put on eaves troughs; another year they might install new windows, build cupboards, or attach a lean-to for extra wood storage. Over the years, the main camp building was improved and the modern conveniences of home would show up. Having a carpenter and a smattering of all the house-building trades among the camp members brought rich rewards.

The roof of the camp was made from spruce and tamarack poles sheeted with one-by-six boards and covered with layers of tar paper. This made it watertight but not heat tight. The walls were very much the same. On a cold day most people stayed in the center of the building. Jake kept the fires burning and would wake up in the middle of the night to load more wood into the stoves. Jake was just fourteen. This would be his second and last year hunting at the camp.

Jake’s elementary school was a one-room brick schoolhouse within easy walking distance of his family’s farm. In grade five, at eleven years of age, he was given the job of starting the school wood stove and cleaning out the ashes during the heating season. The heating season lasted from late October until the beginning of May. His part time job paid twenty-five cents a week and would provide Jake with his pocket money and savings to buy the things he really wanted, like the .22 calibre single shot rifle.

The job bore a huge responsibility as Jake had to arrive at school ahead of the teacher and students and make sure the room was warm for the nine o’clock morning start. He walked to school, cleaned out the ashes, started a fire, and, as it was heating, he would pound the blackboard erasers against the outside brick wall to get them clean for the day. All the pencils left in the box the previous day were sharpened, as no one was allowed to sharpen pencils once class started. With students in seven of the eight grades, the teacher was busy, and did not need someone grinding pencils when she was explaining the day’s lessons.

For average and bright students, the one-room school, with a capable teacher was the best place for a young mind to be. In grade four you would get to hear the grade two and three students receive their lessons and you could also listen in and follow the grade five and six students. Reinforcement and practice made a recipe for success. Bright students like Jake would read when they were finished their work. They also were assigned younger brothers, sisters or neighbour kids in the junior grades. The older helpers, now called tutors, were in charge of marking papers, correcting errors, and keeping their charges up to date on their studies. Idle time was spent reading. Most students had read every book in the school’s two-drawer library and could hardly wait for magazines, newspapers, and any print material Miss Small would bring to school.

One day, Jake overhead his dad talking to a local school trustee. Jake had been hired to replace a student who had just graduated from grade eight. The trustee said, “The woodshed is full of good dry hardwood, and it is more than enough to last one winter. We have never burned a complete shed of wood, even in the coldest of winters.” Jake promptly took up the challenge. Purposefully, he arrived early every morning and put into place a system of quickly removing cold ashes and starting a new fire with kindling. He added extra kindling and propped the damper open to allow more air into the fire box. He started with a bed of cedar and poplar, and then gradually switched to maple and beech. Ironwood was saved for really cold days.

When the teacher arrived at seven forty-five sharp every day, the school was toasty and smelled like a new fresh day. Miss Small was full of smiles and praise, and sometimes a small treat was placed on Jake’s desk. This was the first time she could remember arriving at a school and being able to take off her gloves and coat to start her board work for the day.

Jake always put the box of chalk carefully next to the stove to warm it. The sawdust that chalk was packed in was prized. This tinder-dry sawdust would be used for a quick start on a freezing cold day when a faster fire was needed.

Blackboards were made of real slate. One day, while waiting for Miss Small to arrive, having read everything there was to read in the school, Jake found a note tucked away in the bottom of the chalk brush box.