SKETCH X
A PIONEER WHEATFIELD
In the month of June, one hundred and one years ago, there was a wheatfield near Port Royal which had been sown the fall before by a settler named Dedrick.[1] It was only an acre in extent, and thickly studded with stumps besides, yet no other wheat-field in the county of Norfolk from that time to the present, has ever been the object of so much solicitude on the part of as many people as was this little field. Never was the growth and development of the wheat-plant watched from day to day with greater interest, and never was the harvest-time waited for with more intense longing by a community of people possessing no pecuniary interest in the result.
Mr. Dedrick was the sole owner of this pioneer wheatfield and he had only one or two neighbors,[2] but on the 5th day of June a party of U. E. Loyalist settlers arrived at the mouth of Big Creek, consisting of a score or more persons. Their arrival was a surprise to the two or three lonely settlers in the neighbourhood and they came with a scanty supply of provisions. They brought only a small quantity of flour and bran with them, which was mixed together and dealt out in homeopathic doses and taken not oftener than the exigencies of the ease demanded. This was the little community of persons that fasted and prayed as they waited and watched the ripening of the wheat in Mr. Dedrick’s little clearing with so much interest. Among them were the Norfolk grand ancestors of five of our old families, and their experiences in that rosy month of June were never forgotten.[3]
True, there was an abundance of fish, but man cannot live by fish alone no more than “by bread alone.” There were no supply stores in the country, and no amount of “tickling” in the virgin soil of old mother earth would induce her to give up her treasures sooner than the laws governing her process would permit—laws which were inexorable in their nature, requiring time for soil preparation, seed planting and plant development.
But these pioneers had no bread; and no future promise of mother earth based on “a condition precedent,” which required time for its fulfillment, could satisfy the present demands of their stomachs. In this extremity recourse was had to roots and buds of trees, which were gathered by the women and roasted and stewed in various ways as substitutes for more palatable and nutritious food. At last the golden grain was ready for the sickle, and the men all turned in to help cut it. It was thrashed out at once and the yield was sixty bushels. One half was fanned with the winds of heaven and sent to mill as a grist. John McCall owned the boat that carried the party up the lake and he took the grist to mill. But where was the mill? the reader will ask. It was away down on the Niagara River! When the little craft sailed away with its precious cargo, many a silent prayer went up from the hearts of those who waved adieus from the shore for a safe journey and a speedy return. In due time Captain John and his little crew returned with the flour; and when the boat came in view, such a shout went up from the mouth of Big Creek as was never heard in Port Royal before nor since. And now comes the best part of it; that flour was divided equally among them, without any reckoning of debits or credits.
We the grandsons and great-grandsons of the old pioneers, know nothing of the hardships and privations of pioneer life; but alas! neither do we know anything of that fraternal feeling and community interest, which is a prominent feature of pioneer life. True, we are surrounded with comforts and conveniences never dreamed of by our forefathers, yet, the conditions of our life are less conducive to real happiness and contentment, because these very comforts and conveniences make us more self-dependent and, consequently, more indifferent to the welfare of our fellow-beings. Avarice, pride, egotism, selfishness, hypocrisy, and a host of other evils follow in the wake, petrifying our souls, and curdling the milk of human kindness, inherited from our grandsires. No wonder the withered features brightened, and the dim eyes kindled with a new lustre, when the old folks spoke of the bright side of the old pioneer life.
While travelling through the Southern States a few years ago, the writer conversed with many of the old slaves of antebellum days, and all, without a single exception, expressed themselves as having enjoyed life better on the old plantations when they were slaves. They said they were better fed, better clothed, and did not have to work as hard. They lived in little communities by themselves on the old plantations, free from cares and responsibilities, and were happier and more contented than they are now. But not one was found who would return to the old conditions. They have had a taste of liberty, and, although it has robbed them of happiness and contentment, it has forever made it impossible to live the old life again.
Call at one of our grand, modern homes and ask the wrinkled, white-haired occupant of the old arm-chair where she spent her happiest days. Without a moment’s hesitation she will tell you that her happiest days were spent in the little old log-house that stood down by the creek or at the foot of the hill. Is it because she was younger then and freer of aches and pains? Well, this may have something to do with it, but it is not the main reason. Our mothers sometimes tell us that the days of their single-blessedness were their happiest; but our grandmothers do not refer to their girlhood days; they refer to a time when they were burdened with the cares and responsibilities of caring for a large family; a time when the old crane in the big fire-place swung to and fro with its burden of big iron kettles; a time when the winter’s snow found its way through the “chinks” between the logs; a time when the forest trees were being chopped down, and the fires in the “foller” lit the heavens with a lurid glare; a time when every yard of clothing and bedding material needed for herself, her husband and her children had to be spun, woven and made up by herself; a time when she was wont to climb into an ox-cart with her children on a Sunday morning and ride five miles over corduroy roads, and through mud-holes linch-pin deep, for the pleasure of sitting on a hard bench for an hour and listening to a good, old-fashioned Gospel sermon, delivered in a sledge-hammer style. These were the happy days of our grandmothers; days of honest toil and social equality; days of mutual help, sympathy and encouragement; days of heart-felt gratefulness and simple faith—in short, pioneer days.
[1] The perilous journey of the Dedrick party along Lake Erie to Long Point was noted in the journal of Deputy Surveyor William Chewett who was engaged in the first survey of the shoreline at the time. Under the date of June 22, 1793, Chewett wrote “From 11 A.M. The wind blew a heavy gale from the S. W. and I am afraid the two Batteaux with a number of people who went off to Long Point will be in a disagreeable situation. The principal person is one Lucas Dedrick, who says he has permission from His Excellency to settle there.” Besides his wife and children, Dedrick was also accompanied by his father-in-law John Parsin.”
[2] Owen is referring to the year 1796. By that time the settlement along the Long Point Bay shore was well advanced. The report of Acting Surveyor General David W. Smith listed settlers on all of the front lots in Walsingham, Charlotteville and Woodhouse Townships, with the exception of some lots in the “Government Reserves” categories. Source: Surveyor General’s Letter Book 3, p. 1000-1009
[3] This is referring to the Donald McCall settlement party who arrived at Big Creek, Walsingham Twp. on June 5, 1796. See the endnotes to Sketch XIII for additional information.