Ernestly ?!Ernestly ?!By ERNIE NEUFELD, Weyburn Review Associate Publisher
Have patience: the meaning of the heading eventually will be revealed.
Last summer, an invitation was issued in this column to mature readers to share with us some of their stories about the great depression and drought as experienced in Saskatchewan.
This led, among other encounters, to a pleasant coffee break with Glenn Vinge, Wally Zarry, Herb Weinmaster and a few other members of that venerable brotherhood, and nostalgic exchanges of a unique time in the province's history. Some of this was shared with you in a July column, with the promise of more to come. Reference was also made to letters and documents subsequently to come from Glenn, whose father, A.G. Vinge, was long-term secretary-treasurer of the R.M. of Cambria (office at Torquay), and whose duties, perforce, intersected with many concerns typical of the era.
If you have been chafing at the bit for more tidbits on the subject, please reserve your displeasure for me. Glenn came through within weeks with an armful of wonderful letters and other documents, and it is I who have been backward about making use of them. I promise - health, soundness of mind, and the indulgence of the Review permitting - that there will be a number of columns flowing from this treasure trove, as well as from additional material referred to me by other Weyburn-area folks.
The first is this account of a 1930s rabbit drive in the south country. Evidently the drought had affected the natural food supply of these creatures, whose numbers had grown to nuisance proportions - due in part to their legendary fruitfulness, but also to the destruction of their natural enemies as the area became settled. Heavy snow in other habitats have also been cited. The result was that the desperate creatures descended upon farms and feasted on new crops, vegetable gardens, stored grain and whatever else offered nourishment.
Equally desperate (and hungry) settlers retaliated with massive rabbit drives to reduce the rabbit population. At Glenn's request, his aunt, Viola Halvorson, now of Estevan, had interviewed a district participant, Art Shelstad, shortly before his death several years ago.
Her account follows, as nearly as possible in her own words:
"It was in 1932 or 1933 that they built a corral out of chicken wire in the corner of the fence in their yard, with wings on both sides. The wire was supplied by the municipality. He said people came from Hitchcock, Estevan, Goodwater and Crosby, beside the locals.
"Harvey Pederson said he walked or started out from Fredericks on the west, at least six miles from Haaken Shelstads," (where the corral was erected) "so it was probably the same distance, north, south and east" (of the corral).
"They would walk a few feet apart; some drove in wagons, others road horseback. There were some with .22s, and they shot rabbits as they walked. The ones on wagons and horseback cut the fences.
"There were foxes, coyotes and even a deer" (caught in the roundup). Someone shot the deer - scarce in those days.
"The first time Art and his dad loaded a wagon box they counted 2,200 rabbits; the horses could hardly pull the wagon, and they were dumped in a ravine on the school section north of their place. Some farmers took rabbits home to feed their chickens, and their dogs and cats. Art says they had quite a time to repair the fences after the drive." I suspect more than a few rabbits also found their way into family stew pots.
"The second roundup there were over 3,000 rabbits. Art said he and his dad had cut a lot of trees from around the sloughs and had trees strung out across the yard for firewood. So people would chop off big branches and use them as clubs to kill the rabbits.... One fellow put his bloody club in a gopher hole, and it grew into a tree about 50 feet high. He said it is still there.
"Now this was in the early spring; it was quite muddy and quite a mess.
"The Shelstads had two dogs, so locked them up in the house, but the young one got out and ran among the rabbits jumping and barking; rabbits even ran into him. I guess he thought he was in doggie heaven.
"I remember being let out of school. We drove to Vinges in a buggy a couple of miles east of the farm and walked. I remember seeing the rabbits in the corral, but do not remember any killing. To me it is all kind of hazy."
In another window into the home life and relationships among pioneers, Mrs. Halvorson mentions, in leading into the narration, that "we had such a good visit, talking about the past, and they asked me to stay for lunch, as they had home-made potato soup. It was so good!" Would that I had been there and had also been asked!
Before using the above, I had to make several phone calls to establish the reason for the drives, and this resulted in so much more information that you can expect another episode - probably next week.
My address (also listed on the Review's Website) is ernestly@pathcom.com.
Box 400, 904 East Avenue
Weyburn, SK
S4H 2K4
Phone: (306) 842-7487
Fax: (306) 842-0282
E-mail: production@weyburnreview.com
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Review (1987) Ltd.
