Chapter XVII
Reading edition
A RUDE WINTER EXPERIENCE.
The chief inconvenience we sustained in Nottawasaga arose from the depth of snow in winter, which was generally four feet and sometimes more. We had got our large log barn well filled with grain and hay. Two feet of snow had fallen during the day, and it continued snowing throughout the night. Next morning, to our great tribulation, neither snow nor roof was to be seen on the barn, the whole having fallen inside. No time was to be lost. My share of the work was to hurry to the Scotch line, there to warn every settler to send at least one stout hand to assist in re-raising the roof. None but those who have suffered can imagine what it is to have to walk at speed through several feet of soft snow. The sinews of the knees very soon begin to be painfully affected, and finally to feel as if they were being cut with a sharp knife. This is what Indians call "snow evil," their cure for which is to apply a hot cinder to the spot, thus raising a blister. I toiled on, however, and once in the settlement, walked with comparative ease. Everybody was ready and eager to help, and so we had plenty of assistance at our need, and before night got our barn roof restored.
The practice of exchanging work is universal in new settlements; and, indeed, without it nothing of importance can be effected. Each man gives a day's work to his neighbour, for a logging or raising-bee; and looks for the same help when he is ready for it. Thus as many as twenty or forty able axemen can be relied upon at an emergency.
At a later time, some of us became expert in the use of snow-shoes, and took long journeys through the woods, not merely with ease but with a great deal of pleasure. As a rule, snow is far from being considered an evil in the backwoods, on account of the very great facility it affords for travelling and teaming, both for business and pleasure, as well as for the aid it gives to the hunter or trapper.
My own feelings on the subject, I found leisure to embody in the following verses:
THE TRAPPER.
Away, away! my dog and I; The woodland boughs are bare, The radiant sun shines warm and high, The frost-flake[4] gems the air. Away, away! thro' forests wide Our course is swift and free; Warm 'neath the snow the saplings hide— Its ice-crust firm pace we. The partridge[5] with expanded crest Struts proudly by his mate; The squirrel trims its glossy vest, Or eats its nut in state. Quick echoes answer, shrill and short, The woodcock's frequent cry; We heed them not—a keener sport We seek—my dog and I. Far in the woods our traps are set In loneliest, thickest glade, Where summer's soil is soft and wet, And dark firs lend their shade. Hurrah! a gallant spoil is here To glad a trapper's sight— The warm-clad marten, sleek and fair, The ermine soft and white; Or mink, or fox—a welcome prize— Or useful squirrel grey, Or wild-cat fierce with flaming eyes, Or fisher,[6] meaner prey. On, on! the cautious toils once more Are set—the task is done; Our pleasant morning's labour o'er, Our pastime but begun. Away, away! till fall of eve, The deer-track be our guide, The antler'd stag our quarry brave, Our park the forest wide. At night, the bright fire at our feet, Our couch the wigwam dry— No laggard tastes a rest so sweet As thou, good dog, and I.