Bruce County Memories: The greenhorn pioneer buys a pig

Did you hear the one about the pioneer who walked his dinner home?

That would be the first settler in the eastern part of Arran Township, David Chalmers, a bachelor and a bit wet behind the ears.

It was back in 1851, before Arran was surveyed into farm lots. Historian Norman Robertson tells the story, quoting from a letter by Mr. Chalmers himself:

“In the month of May, 1851, three travellers left Owen Sound on a land hunt, intending to locate and settle as farmers in the Township of Arran. The party consisted of David Butchart, a man of about 40 years of age; James Roch, an importation from Dundee, Scotland; and myself, a lad of about 20 years of age.

“All three of us were practically green at bush work; on starting, we took to the road carrying heavy loads of provisions and an axe each, and such a road! But we were strong and of good courage and so floundered through mud and water for 12 miles: there were only three shanties with small clearings all the way.

“When at last we arrived at the house of James Barber, on the boundary between Grey and Bruce, we were very tired and gladly accepted his hospitality for the night. He told us that we were somewhat premature in our visit, that the Township of Arran was not yet surveyed and that there would be no use coming to hunt for farms until mid-summer.

“However, we were anxious to see the land we came to seek, so in the morning we started on the old blaze of the county line. About one-and-a-half miles north on that line, we started to fell timber to clear a potato patch. We piled the brush, built a small shanty of small logs, bought five bushels of potatoes from Mr. Barber, and planted them among the logs. The crop turned out well. I dug the crop up in the fall as Mr. Butchart and Mr. Roch did not turn up to assist. These potatoes which I raised can safely be called the first crop raised in Arran.

“In the summer, the survey of the township was proceeded with, and early in the fall, I started to select a farm for myself. I went alone. On Lot 25, Concession 6, I found the surveyor's party, with whom I stayed all night. One of the party was my old fellow traveller, James Roch. He asked me, as a friend, if I would do a little chopping for him between Lots 29 and 30, Concession 8, as he could not leave his work on the survey.

“Of course, like a greeny, I consented and felled some timber to indicate that the lots were located, and thus, gave up the chance of possessing two of the most valuable lots in Arran. Tara is now on Lots 30 and 31. Roch never came near the property afterwards.



Arran in an 1896 map; the greenhorn missed out on founding Tara

“I left the camp in the morning and went north, then east, until I came to the Sauble again, on Lot 27, Concession 9. It was my home until 1874, when I removed to Manitoba with my family.

“In the fall of the year, I got a friend to assist me to put up a shanty. We cut such poles as we could carry on our shoulders, put up the building and covered it with cedar clapboards. I think I spent the happiest days of my life chopping down the big trees and allowing more sunlight in my little clearing. I baked my saleratus-cakes, fried my pork, made my black-currant-leaf-tea, or bread-coffee and made my supper, as happy as a king.

“I would put on a big fire of beech or maple logs, stretch out on the floor and read till bed-time, and retire to my one-post bedstead, which had a heavy layer of hemlock brush for a mattress, and awake in the morning with sometimes two inches of “the beautiful” on my bedcover, the snow having drifted through the cracks of my clapboard roof. I was content, hopeful for the future, and happy.

“For three years, I kept bachelor's hall and never felt lonely. After getting fairly domiciled in my shanty on the banks of the Sauble, the question of grub for the winter's work presented itself, a most serious matter, as it necessitated my carrying it on my back from Robert Linn's in Derby, a distance of 11 miles, four miles of which were merely a surveyor's blaze.

“As I had bought a pig from Mr. Linn, I determined that my pork should carry itself. I got my piggy along very well for seven miles, then it began to get tuckered out. These seven miles of road had been chopped through the bush, but the remaining four miles were only blazed.



The Dickison’s Yorkshire pig, Carrick Township; Bruce County Museum, A2019.047.012-02

“How to get my pig these four miles was a problem, but I had to face it. I started with a very reluctant grunter, making my way through bush and over logs until I came to a small cedar swamp about one mile from my house. As in most cedar swamps, there was considerable windfall, and here piggy, being tired, came to a dead stop, but eventually, I got it to my domicile. Arrived there, I tried my hand in transforming pig into pork, but will not harrow your feelings by describing how I did it.

“Three or four days before Christmas, snow fell to a depth of nearly four feet. As I had not got any supply of flour for the winter, and the snow being so deep, I concluded to give up bachelor's hall for the winter, and having salted my pork in two white ash troughs and put it in the cellar, I started out for Mr. Barber's and floundered through the snow, arriving there in the evening, tired and hungry.”

The brand new fifth edition of Norman Robertson’s book, “History of the County of Bruce,” is just out and will be available in the stores listed on our web site, www.brucecountyhistory.on.ca, or call Bill Stewart, 519-376-9787, or E-mail: willstew@bmts.com.