The Pioneer Woodsman as He Is Related to Lumbering in the Northwest

by George Henry Warren

Alone, and while blazing a line for this proposed road, one sunny afternoon, I came onto a table-rock, in a little opening in the woods, where fifty feet in front of me lay a large pine tree that had blown down. As some small brush crackled under my feet, a bear, which I have ever since believed from descriptions that had previously been given me, was the much wanted great bear, stood up in front of me, close by the fallen tree. Presumably he had been awakened from an afternoon nap. The only weapon that I possessed was what is known as a boy's ax, the size and kind usually carried by land examiners. I had not sought this new acquaintance, nor did I at that moment desire a closer one, but mentally decided, and that quickly, that the wrong thing to do would be to make any effort to get to a place of safety. I therefore decided to stand my ground and to put up the best fight possible with my small ax, in case the bear insisted on a closer acquaintance. Why I should have laughed on such an occasion as this, I never have known, but the perfect helplessness of my situation seemed so ridiculous, that I broke into a loud laugh. I have often wondered why that bear at that moment seemed to think that he had seen enough of the man whom he faced. Certain it was, that he turned on his hind legs, leaped over the log, and disappeared, leaving only the occasional sound of a twig breaking under his feet. So well pleased was I with the less distinct notes of the breaking twigs, that I waited and listened until I could no longer hear any of the welcome, receding music. The excitement having subsided, an inspection of the little ax revealed the fact that the head was nearly, but not quite off its handle. This incident has always been sufficient to convince me that I have no desire to approach nearer to this animal of the northern woods.

The midday luncheon is welcomed by the automobile tourists. (Page [180].)

In the summer of 1899, some special work was required north of Grand Rapids, Minnesota. Accompanied by my son, Frank Merton, and a cook named Fred Easthagen, I left Grand Rapids on a buckboard drawn by two horses and driven by Dan Gunn, the popular proprietor of the Pokegama Hotel. Our route was over a new road where stumps and pitch holes were plentiful. The team of horses was said to have been raised on the western plains, and objected strenuously to being driven over this stump road. One of the horses balked frequently, and, when not standing still, insisted on running. The passengers, except Easthagen, became tired of this uneven mode of travel, and preferred to walk, being able to cover the ground equally as fast as the team. Easthagen, however, sat tight through it all; he having come from the far West, refused to walk when there was a team to pull him.

Our camp was made in a fine grove of pig-iron Norway, near to which dwelt Mr. and Mrs. Sandy Owens, settlers upon government land. From this camp we were able to prosecute our work for a long period of time. The late summer and autumn were very dry. Both wolves and deer abounded in this vicinity, and not far away ranged many moose. Large lumbering camps were about ten miles away. Oxen had been turned loose for the summer, to pasture in the woods and cut-over lands. Passing, one day, a root house built into the side of a hill, we pushed open the door, and in there found the remains of an ox. The animal had probably entered the root house to get away from the flies, and, the door having closed behind him, he had no means of escape, so that the poor beast had perished of hunger and thirst. The ground was dry, and all the brush, and twigs, and leaves lying thereon, had become brittle and crackled under the feet of every walking creature. This interfered much with the ability of the wolves to surprise the deer, rabbits, or other animals on which they are accustomed to feed, so that they were hungry. On this account they had become emboldened, so much so, that they would, at nightfall or toward evening, venture near enough to show themselves.

My son was coming in alone, from work one evening, when a pack of wolves followed him for some distance, occasionally snapping out their short yelp, and had he been less near the camp, he might have been in great danger. As it was, however, they kept back from him in the woods, but not so far as to prevent his hearing them.

An interesting article appeared in one of the numbers of "Country Life in America," on the subject of breeding skunks for profit. From their pelts is made and sold a fine quality of fur, known, to the purchaser, at least, as stone martin. The nearest approach to a natural farm of these animals that I have ever known was that existing at Sandy Owen's cabin, and immediately adjacent to it. These little animals were numerous in the Norway grove in which we were camped.

My son and I slept in a small "A" tent which at night was closed. On one occasion I was awakened by feeling something moving across my feet on the blankets, covering us. I spoke quietly to my son, requesting him to be careful not to move, for something was in the tent, and probably, that something was a skunk. With the gentlest of motions, I moved just sufficiently to let the animal know that I was aware of its presence in the tent. Immediately the animal retreated off of my legs, while we remained quiet for some time in the tent. Then a match was struck and with it a candle lighted, when a small hole was discovered at the foot of the tent where evidently the animal had nosed its way in, and through which it had retreated. In the morning when my son and I arose, unmistakable evidence was discovered, near where our heads had lain, that his skunkship had visited us during the night.

Mr. and Mrs. Owens left their cabin to visit another settler, several miles distant, leaving the key with the cook, and telling him that he could use it if he had occasion to do so. Coming in one evening from a cruise, the cook went to the cabin to make and bake some bread in Mrs. Owen's stove. A small hole had been cut in the door, to admit the Owens' cat. On entering, Easthagen saw a skunk sitting in the middle of the floor. The animal retreated under the bed, while the cook kindled a fire in the stove and began mixing the dough for the bread. He baked the bread and cooked the evening meal for three persons, considerately tossing some bits of bread and meat near to where the skunk was concealed. Our party ate supper outside the door a short distance from the cabin. The animal remained in the cabin that night and until after breakfast, a portion of which latter the cook fed to it, when taking the broom, he, by easy and gentle stages, pushed the skunk toward the door, removing the animal without accident.

The state of Minnesota has some excellent laws to prevent the destruction of game animals by the pothunter. Notwithstanding this fact, a greater or less number of market hunters have been able to subsist by killing unlawful game and selling the meat to the lumber camps at about five cents per pound. Many men interested in the ownership of timber lands, have been aware of this fact and have been desirous of preventing the unlawful killing of moose and deer. Some lumbermen, also, have refused to buy the meat from these market hunters. It has not been safe, however, for such people to offer evidence against these hunters. There have been two principal reasons that have deterred them from so doing. One is, that the informant's personal safety would have become endangered, and the other reason is, that his timber would have been in danger of being set on fire. It rests, therefore, with the game wardens, to ferret out and prosecute to the best of their ability, all offenders against the game law.