Chapter Five

Early Years and Education

In March 1911, word came that Grandmother Birch was failing (footnote 1), and my mother went back to England in order to see her parents once more while they still lived. I was left in the care of my sister Helena, and did not much enjoy that. Being the youngest I was, no doubt, spoiled. I liked to run free, and have my own way. No doubt I could have been of more help to Helena: yet it seemed to me that I worked hard.

Most of my time seemed to be spent plucking wild ducks, and cleaning them ready for cooking. The sloughs were all overflowing with water, as it was the peak of a wet cycle. In the middle of some sloughs were the remains of fences, where early ranchers had built and fenced haystacks during the former dry cycle, which proved the theory of ‘seven years of drought and seven years of heavy rain’. The sloughs were teeming with wild fowl at that time, and they were the main source of our food supply. We also used some of their eggs, when still fresh, taking just one or two from a nest so that the duck would not desert the rest.

In the winter-time, it was rabbits which abounded in their thousands. On moonlit nights, to go out and see them hopping around among the frost and snow-covered trees, made one feel they were in fairyland! The skinning and preparing of them was not too pleasant, but they made good eating; however, we all grew heartily sick of them, and most people have not wanted to touch rabbit-meat since then. One lady, Mrs Albert Walker, who went on a visit to England some years later, found that wherever she visited they would invariably serve rabbit (footnote 2); “Oh, we found a lovely rabbit at the butcher’s today”. She would have given a great deal for a meal of roast beef or some lamb, but they were trying to be kind, and she could not say a word.

[20] Of course, we raised chickens, and had plenty of eggs to eat, cooked in every known way to provide variety. Our big garden gave us plenty of vegetables; until they were ready I gathered large pans-full of pigweed (wild spinach) and dandelion greens. At times there would be a plentiful supply of mushrooms. Whatever we could find that was at all edible, we used.

In the fall, the root vegetables from the garden were stored in the cellar, which was just a little hole under the house, with a flap that lifted up into the living room. Almost every year the potatoes froze down there in the coldest weather, and the smell of boiling potatoes after they have been touched with frost is something I, for one, never forget. Even if we could not eat them, they had to be boiled for the pigs and chickens. Turnips do not hurt to be touched with frost, but most other vegetables are ruined. Then, when the spring thaw occurred, this little cellar hole filled with water right up to the floorboards, so everything had to be cleared out before that. The house was built on low-lying land with sloughs on every side. There WERE nice little knolls quite close by; in fact, just around the corner where, later on, we had a fenced-in run for the calves! When, twelve years later, a new home was being planned, my suggestion was to put it there, which suggestion was accepted, and we had a fine, large, dry cellar. But at the early building date all they seemed to notice was a stand of trees to form a windbreak. Certainly, a windbreak was good, but the low-lying spot should have been avoided. It was the sort of poor judgement which gained those early-comers from overseas the epithet “Green Englishmen”. Of course, they were green to the ways of this new land; they were used to cities and a more temperate climate. Some were young enough to readily adjust. My father was fifty years old when he came to Canada, and he did remarkably well under the circumstances; not financially, but at least we had a happy, Christian home and plenty of love, and enough to eat. He worked very hard, and was glad to be free of debt, and his own “boss” at last.

Now, this summer while Mother was away, Father did his best to make things nicer and more comfortable [21] for her return. The sod roof, which leaked when it rained heavily, was replaced with boards and rubber roofing, a heavy tarred paper. The walls were all whitewashed, and two bedsteads were ordered from Eaton’s at Winnipeg, just plain white enamelled bedsteads with side runners, no springs even then. Boards were cut to fit, and laid between the runners, and the feather beds placed thereon. We were all so proud of the improvements, and could hardly wait for Mother’s return. In the meantime, Grandmother seemed to be a little better, so Mother travelled about England to visit her sister and brothers and, in particular, to see her oldest daughter, Mabel Harris, and first grandchild, Walter Brittan Harris, who had been born in April 1910.

On a hot Sunday afternoon in August 1911, we were all at Uncle’s place for supper (quite a usual occurrence) when the dogs barked, and up through the trees came Mother and Nora, my second oldest sister who had been in England until now as company for Mabel. They had arrived at Rama unexpectedly, so no one was there to meet them. There was only a little shack for a waiting room, and one house among the trees across the track, the home of Mr and Mrs Berg who had the post-office in their home at that time. That was Rama! The two weary travellers had a cup of tea at the Berg’s, then started to walk west along the railway track. I do wonder however Mother found her way. She must have remembered that we had to turn off at a bridge that crossed a small creek, and close by there was a shack where the Tibbetts were staying, or it may have been Mr Tibbett only at that time. So he was able and willing to escort them, still on foot, the rest of the way to Uncle’s farm. What a surprise we all had! Nora had been really terrified though, and being hot and thirsty, had wanted to drink water from a slough as they passed, but Mother warned her against doing so as it might make her ill.

We all had supper together at “Eastleigh Farm” (footnote 3) as Uncle and Aunt had named their place. Leonard must have been home too, as he took a snapshot of Auntie and me (which I still have), and I was cross, thinking that Nora should have been in it too! Of course, there were some taken of the whole group, but [22] Aunt wanted this one of we two for some reason of her own. Then we all walked down to our home, “Boxmoor”, just as on that first night when we arrived over three years before.

Nora has recorded elsewhere (footnote 4) her disgust at the primitive conditions in the old log-house. She did not take kindly to life on a bush homestead, so it was not long before she and Helena went off to Saskatoon, and obtained work as domestic servants – a poorly paid job, but at least they had their rooms and their board. If the lady of the house was kindly and reasonable in her demands, it was fairly happy for the girls. Helena always seemed to strike the other kind! Nora worked for a Mr and Mrs Reuben Morgan. Mrs Morgan, before her marriage, was the first teacher of the log-school in Saskatoon, which is now preserved on the University grounds. At the age of twelve, I went up, and stayed with the Morgans, and attended the new King Edward School (right across the street from their house) for a few months, in exchange for taking care of their little girl, Geraldine, after school hours and on Saturdays. She was a nice little girl, Mrs Morgan was kind to me, and I enjoyed the time there. At school, when they interviewed me and heard I had not been attending any school, they put me in a low grade where I did not learn anything; so I complained to the teacher, and was sent to the Principal’s office. He asked me “What is the matter?”. I replied that the lessons were all too simple, I was not learning anything – I had only a short time, and it was being wasted! He must have been impressed as he put me up two grades instead of one. But it was almost June, schools closed for the summer, I went home, and was not sent back again. The Morgans were good to me, and I had my first car rides; they had a Ford, and Mr Morgan drove us out into the country over prairie trails, Geraldine and I in the back seat. I remember the glorious perfume of the Silver Wolf-willow, its tiny golden flowers – and the wild roses!

A young lady friend of the Morgans took Geraldine and me to the circus in her car (her name was Sydney Aird). This was a wonderful experience for me. I saw elephants and tigers as well as the more familiar animals. But all these [23] good things come to an end, and I was homeward bound. On the train I met a girl about my own age, travelling with her mother to Toronto. We played up and down the coaches. Some of the gentlemen gave us fruit and candies. She was a pretty, dainty, fairylike child, quite self-possessed, a complete contrast to me! Perhaps that is why we were attracted to each other. I understood they were going to Toronto to have some special violin lessons. Reluctantly I parted with this fascinating girl when we reached Invermay, and I had to get out. I felt that she lived in a world vastly different from my own as, in truth, she did. For when, years later, I saw and recognised her name, it was on the label of a gramophone record. That name was Kathleen Parlow; she was by then a famous violinist.

It must have been about that time that a schoolhouse was built in Rama, and yes, it was actually painted red, like many a barn. Mr Berg was the one who built it, and it was erected on a part of his homestead. Shortly, the Bellendon School District was formed away to the southeast of us. It was after I had been to Saskatoon that Mrs Murray (always known as “Mums” Murray to the whole settlement), whose children were attending Bellendon School, invited my mother, Cyril and me to her home for the noon meal, and then to go on with them to the school for a concert of sorts. It was really the closing of school for the summer months, and to show off what the children had learned in the short time that Miss Dora Bailey had been teaching there. I think Mother was quite impressed, not by any brilliance on the part of the pupils, but by the competence of their teacher in bringing them along so well.

I do not know if Mother had been worrying about us before, but she now started talking about getting us to school. Of course, we had been having lessons from our Father; in fact, some neighbours’ children had also been coming to classes, which were held in our living-room, seated round the rough-board table Father had made. Actually our whole life with our parents was an education, since they were not only intelligent people, but had also received a very good education in English schools (footnote 5).

[24] Reading and music – good music – played a very large part in our lives. We had big chests full of books; magazines and newspapers came by post from England, every week. We also played a lot of games, sent by adoring grandparents and aunts, and many word-games. These all helped to sharpen our wits. When mother heard that in the coming season this same Miss Dora Bailey was to teach in the Rama school, much nearer to us, things began to move. As we were outside the limits of the Rama School District, permission was sought for us to attend; this was granted, but in lieu of taxes, we were to pay for some tuition each month. It was very little, I do not remember how much, but we took it each month on the way to classes, paying it to Mr Tibbitt, who by this time was living half a mile south of Rama, and had the post-office there in his place. This had been the homestead and the house of one Leonard Richarson (sic) who I remember as a very nice man, but very sick, who eventually died of tuberculosis. When he had to give up the post-office, Mr Tibbitt moved in and took it over. We went right past the door on the way to Rama, so had our mailing address changed from Invermay to Rama. Father cut poplars and hewed some rough lumbar. With two poplar logs for runners, he built a little sled – just enough room for the two of us to sit in it. A couple of willows were used for shafts. By this time we had a team of sorrel bronchos, wild horses from the “76” ranch in Southern Alberta, but well broken by now. Uncle had been driving them for some years, and Eustace bought them from him as they were getting old. Though the same colour, they were quite different in temperament. Barney was fat, and lazy; Sandy full of spirit and keen to go, therefore thin. Now that Barney was hitched to our little cutter, he had to pull the whole load!

He still had to be coaxed and prodded, but he did get us there. Our parents had us up and warmly dressed, the horse fed and hitched at the front door. It was still dark and bitterly cold. They had field stones heated in the oven, having kept the fire on all night. These were placed at our feet. Mother bundled us up with mufflers all round our heads so that we could barely see, and her last act was to pop a hot peppermint into each mouth. We had a lunch and a tin of hot soup under the seat – no thermos bottles then, it was just a jam or syrup can with tight-fitting lid. During the morning recess, Cyril would stand this on top of the Waterman stove in the corner of the [25] schoolhouse, and give me my half in a cup at noon. We were the only children to have a hot lunch. Cyril had the horse to care for (we carried hay and oats for him behind the cutter), and to hitch up again for the homeward journey. It seems to me, in retrospect, that every day was bitterly cold. I remember being so cold one day, that I just could not bear it any longer, so Cyril pulled up to one of the very few houses we passed, near the trail, took me in, and asked Mr and Mrs Peters if we could get warm by their heater. We were made quite welcome, and at last felt able to go on home. It was, I believe, about five miles cutting diagonally across sections with some five barbed-wire gates to open and close.

Uncle had built a new frame-house on Section 15, nearer to us but on the top of a steep little hill. We passed the foot of the hill on the way to Rama. They had also changed their mailing address to Rama so we children brought their mail each day and, to save the poor old horse the climb uphill, deposited the mail in a bag hung from a tree, without even getting out of the cutter. It was the first Rural Route delivery!

Eustace had a gramophone while we were still in England, one of those with a big horn and cylindrical records, and “His Master’s Voice” dog on the side. This came with us to Canada, as well as an organ which Mother and both boys played well. Father played a flute (footnote 7) and Leonard an accordion, so our home was filled with music. We all sand, Father bass, Leonard too; Eustace tenor; Nora and Cyril alto; Mother, Helena and I soprano. Before long Len brought home a new modern gramaphone, and we acquired a huge collection of disc records, all classical and sacred music by first-class musicians. Auntie loved to come for a while afternoon and evening of music, and this also drew the neighbouring bachelors to our place, as well as the home-cooked meals, and Father’s interesting conversation.

Nowadays we hear of students going to university and taking an “Arts Course”. It seems to be the basis for whatever they take up later. Though no certificates or degrees were available, I realise looking back that we were given a good grounding [26] in Fine Arts right there in our home, in that poorly-built log-house in the midst of sloughs and bush, the logs creaking with cold, the Aurora Borealis bright overhead, and wolves howling dismally all night. But we learned valuable lessons, which have never been forgotten. I really pity many of the children of this generation!

Transcriber’s footnotes:

1. Ellen Birch – we have copies of some of her letters to her daughter, Olive’s mother, and her last letters at about this time.

2. I remember rabbit meat in my early childhood, following the second world war – no doubt it was a cheap source of protein [BJH]

3. Eastleigh is a town just outside Southampton, England, where I believe they had lived earlier. [BJH]

4. I have no recollection of this source – Canadian family, who now has a copy?

5. See the autobiography of T W Moores for details of his schooling in England.

7. See the autobiography of T W Moores for details of his music making in his early life.

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