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EPISODE 383 MEET MOSES LORD…INDIGENOUS PERSON, YUKON TERRITORY, 1962

EPISODE 383    MEET MOSES LORD…INDIGENOUS PERSON, YUKON TERRITORY, 1962



Our Yukon job in 1961 was my closest relationship with first nations people…mostly
Northern Tuchone from their Mayo Landing Reserve.   


This is Moses Lord having canned peaches for lunch on the job.  He seemed to
be an important person among his people.


“Do you want to crawl into an old mine?”
“Sure do.”
“Then come along with Dinky and me…I”ll bring a lantern.”
(Strange, I do not remember Moses ever calling me Alan…)

alan skeoch
July 2021

MEET MOSES LORD

My two previous indigenous person stories were based on short
 meetings.  Very short…maybe 5 minutes max.   Enough time to make
a lasting impression on me but really not enough time to make into a big
deal.  Hell, the first contact was not even with a real indigenous person. In that
incident I was mistaken for a First Nations person. “Look, there’s an Indian up
on that rock outcrop.  Take a picture, quick.”  It was m sitting on the outcrop…skins
bed brown by exposure.

The second incident lacked humour.   An incident of which I am not proud…even
at the  time in May, 1960, I was uneasy with what I had done.  I took pictures
that would have been best not  taken.  Unflatteirng pictures.  

Now is the time for my third experience with First Nations people.  Much much longer.
Moses Lord and I worked together from May to September, off and on.  He was one
of our employees.  Not hired because he was indigenous. Just hired from the available
labour pool in Mayo Landing, Yukon Territory.

The only way I knew he was aboriginal was because of his name.  Moses Lord had
the clear ring of an imposed name given by some kind of  Christian missionary .
Moses was old enough to be my father…I was 22 and he seemed somewhere between
50 and 60.   

Now I wonder if he had been one of the native children yanked from their
parens aNd put in a kind of prison known as a ‘residential school’.   That thought
never crossed my mind in 1962.  I did not even know much about residential schools.
The subject never came up during the whole summer.  

Moses was a nice man to work with.  Friendly.  Once he knew I was interested in
finding abandoned placer gold mines dating back to the end of the 19th century
he showed me one that we could explore.  Most placer gold mines were vertical..i.e.
miners dug down through the permafrost to bed rock where gold nuggets and
gold dust was possibly trapped in the cracks or faults in the rock.  A few were
horizontal where miners had tunnelled into hillsides.   The one that Moses
showed me was fantastic as the tunnel was festooned with ice crystals and seemed
a fairyland.  At one point we even found well worn shovels and pickaxes.

So I considered myself close to Moses.  When I began writing this episode I expected
to say how a warm relationship was established. That would be an overstatement.
Granted we got along well although
it must have been hard for Moses who was perhaps 50 years of age having to do what
a 22 year old ‘boss’ decided was necessary.

In retrospect I realize we were not close.  Friends…yes.  But I had no idea whether Moses was Northern Tuchone
like most local First Nations were.  Most but not all.  I knew nothing of his family except he lived in a house
on the reserve ‘that seems filled with women of all ages’.  He was married…had children…perhaps
grandchildren but I never asked about them.  In other words there was social distance between
us.   This was not intentional.  Perhaps due to respect… for I noticed other First Nation workers seemed to
defer to Moses.   “Dinky” for instance who is in the mine tunnel with Moses.  Dinky had a trap line…Moses related how
a wolverine crawled down the stove pipe of Dinky’s cabin…vicious, solitary creatures.  Dinky never said a word.

When the job was over and I was packing up our equipment in September one of the local
people…I think it was Moses…said:

“How would you like a set of caribou antlers?”
“Love to pay for a set.”
“No pay. There is a set leaning against our house…you can have them.”

And I still have them.

Caribou antlers.   I never saw a wild caribou in all my  years doing mining exploration.




DINKY with Moses (shoulder)…huge fire with lots of moss
piled on to get smoke … our defence against the flies.

Decades later, around 1980 I was asked to do a radio story on CBC
about something related to the Yukon and I mentioned Moses.  When
the broadcast was over i was called to the broadcast booth.  “Call for
you, Alan…from the Yukon.”   One of Moses Lord’s daughtert wanted to 
say thank you for mentioning her dad.   Maybe we were closer than I thought.


SOURCE COMMENT…RE NA-SHO YAK DUN….FIRST NATION PEOPLE IN MAYO LANDING


The First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun represents the most northerly community of the Northern Tutchone language and culture group. In the Northern Tutchone language the Stewart River is called Na Cho Nyak, meaning Big River. 

Historically, the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun lived and trapped throughout the area, using the rich supply of game animals, fish, birds, and numerous plants for food and for medicinal purposes.   

Their lifestyle required traveling throughout the First Nation’s traditional territory at various times of the year, for hunting, fishing, and gathering food to survive.

Today, the Na-Cho Nyäk Dun has a membership of 602. As a self-governing First Nation, the First Nation has the ability to develop and adopt laws on behalf of their citizens and their Settlement lands.

They are actively involved in affairs of the Mayo community to promote a better, healthier lifestyle for its future generations and a strong economy based on its rich natural resources.

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EPISODE 382 GARDENING WITH BLACK PLASTIC (Tarpaulins) AND OLD TIRES…

EPISODE 382      GARDENING WITH BLACK PLASTIC AND OLD TIRES…


Alan skeoch
July 2021

Gardening is a sport that we always seem to lose.   Our weeds race vertically
faster than our garden plants.  Eventually we give up and either
abandon the garden to the winning weeds or decide to get revenge
by driving the John Deere lawn mower over everything.  

We usually have a bit of joy as the race begins.  Like our
row of Zinnias this year and our cosmos jungle where the
weeds cannot  get a foothold.

There is a solution.  A pathway to victory. Not pretty.  First let’s look at the
gardens on July 1…before the weeds….just to see if the race is worth the effort.



Zinnias are treasures



Gardens spotted here and there make skeins of shorn grass interesting.

Pond gardens require no work at all



Cosmos know how to beat weeds…crowd them…feed the weed their elbows.




Nest year we are planning a whole garden of zinnias…alongside the cosmos.




strawberries are an early crop…B.W. (before weeds)

“Alan, did Marjorie grow these berries?”

“Truth be told.  No.  We bought them but thought they
looked good in this story.”
“Can we trust other stories then?”
“Allow for a little padding now and then…but, yes,
I try to keep the stories honest…buttressed by pictures that do not lie.”
“Those strawberries are a picture.”
“Right.  That’s why I am being honest.  So you can trust my stories.”
“Do you  grow strawberries?”
“Yes…as you will see.”





We grow strawberries in a giant plastic tub…only way they can win.



Dasies know how to make an ancient dump rake look like a fine carriage…daisies come
to bloom early…no help needed.


There has to be some kind of reward for wild tiger lillies.   When tender flowers
fail, Tiger Lillies come to the rescue and bloom longer.


EXPERIMENT:   Will the hand seeded Sweet Clover suppress the weeds.
We will keep you informed.  This crop was planned to help the bees…am I
misled?


Some weeds I love. 
Find three gardens here…two with the weeds starting to dominate.


why not let the weeds dominate…

This garden looks good right now but the weeds are poking through….

And now for the big experiment.  Ugly for sure…..

we spread big sheets of black plastic sheeting… covered the ground. “Let’s deny the weeds light…
no chance for photosynthesis.   Then cut holes to plant
our prize corps.   The weeds were being denied sunlight. Death in the dark under the tarp.



In other case we planted beets in a big wooden  crate…three feet above 
the ground.   


And then we gathered old rubber tires to hold the tarp down and provide nests for
the cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, pumpkins, gourds to thrive.


Pretty?   Not very.  Some late germinate cucumbers in a truck tire fortress.

Old cattle troughs with garish bedsteads are homes to red onions and yellow bush beans.



And big plastic bins on movable skids are growing places for parsley, thyme, oregano,
celery, tomatoes, peppers…etc.etc.   When the weeds get too big we will pick 
up the skids with the bob cat and settle the pots where weeds have been mowed.
Sounds stupid, I know.



Where did I  get the idea?  From our son Andrew who has constructed his garden
in such a way that the plastic sheet is not ugly and the old car and truck tires
are clothed in edible plant life.  Then he harrows the periphery with the tractor.
Father copying son.

alan

Coming soon…Part 3 of indigenous contacts…The story of Moses Lord…a father
figure working for a 22 year old ‘boss’.  Must have been hard to  take but Moses kept
things cheerful.

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EPISODE 381 MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE: THE ALASKA INCIDENT 1960…ILL CONSIDERED PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN


EPISODE 381    MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE:   THE ALASKA INCIDENT 1960…ILL CONSIDERED PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN

alan skeoch
July 3, 2021



THIS IS A STORY ABOUT THE PICTURE BELOW…A YUPIK COUPLE ON  THE EDGE OF THE BERING SEA

Should I have taken the picture (Below) ?   I am not sure.   In the back of mY mind at the time I wondered if my actions
were appropriate and  that thought has stayed with me for 60 years.    After much searching I found the picture
and replicated it below.  The Yupiks were very friendly, perhaps a little inebriated…perhaps not.  The Yupik people 
are Inuit.  Their territory covers the vast barren southwest corner of Alaska…fronting on the Bering Sea north of
the Aleutian Chain.   Dillingham, Alaska…a salmon fishing and canning centre.  Called a City but really barely a town.
Over one tenth of the population live below the poverty line.  Crime is high.  Those facts have not changed in the
last 60 years.  

In 1960, I was quite unaware of Dillingham.  I had never heard of a Yupik. 

 “Alan, you will be going to Alaska
on a Turam job…wear some good clothes to impress our Humble Oil contractors…searching for copper…Our crew will
be setting up diamond drill sites.  Big project, there will be two Sikorsky helicopters at the campsite.  Bottom line!
You guys have make a good impression.”


MAKING A GOOD IMPRESSION

Time has passed, I can say more about the job now.     Dr. Paterson got us all Green Cards which meant we had skills that no one else in the United States had.
Partly true.   Bill Morrison taught us all we needed to know about the Turam method of detecting mineral conductors deep under
overburden.   Simple put, we were trained to use a motor generator and a mile of copper shielded cable to push an electrical
current into the ground and take readings of that current on a grid.  If there was a conductor …i.e. a great lump of chalcopyrite
under the ground… then we could detect an ‘anomaly’ that just might be important.

Were we important people?   Specially trained? Who were we really?  Three of us were students at
the University of Toronto…Don VanEvery, Ian Rutherford and Alan Skeoch…two maths and physics 
student and one history student. (What the hell was a history student doing here?  Good question.
I preferred to keep that part of my background invisible.)   Bill Morrison was the Turam expert and
I became his assistant.  Called ‘field men’…i.e. no engineering degrees.  The brains of our team
were Dr. John Stam, a true geophysicist, and Mike Chinnery, a recent geophysical grad from England.

Were we important people.  Felt that way even if it was a bluff.  One thing for sure was that we seemed
  important people to the two Yupik residents sitting on a wooden stoop
in a town that to me in 1960, was  unremarkable save for its salmon cannery and huge pile of beer bottles in the garbage dump.

IMPORTANT PEOPLE!

For some strange reason be landed in Saskatoon en route to Anchorage, Alaska.  
Even now so many years later this photo confirms our self importance.   Don VanEvery,
Ian Rutherford and Mike Chinnery.   Geophysical prospectors.   Suits!!

In the Ancharage airpot diner I ordered ‘Milk Toast’ for breakfast because it sounded sophisticated.
Turned out to be baby food which gave the team a laugh.

Leaving Anchorage we boarded a smaller prop driven passenger plane…a Fokker F 27. 

 “Well , boys, we 
can now say we flew in a Fokker.”
“Are not all airplanes Fokkers at one tome or another.”
(laughter)

We flew over the Alaskan 
Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes where the crust of the earth is thin and the seething cauldron of molten
stone beneath us comes to the surface.  

We flew westward for a couple of hours or more. Beneath us the land looked empty.   Then a strange thing
happened.  At least in my memory it was strange.  A crew member came back and hand cranked down the the landing
gear.  The F 27 could land on water as well as land.  Hand cranked?  Why?  had the hydraulics failed?

Ah, yes, the passenger terminal at Dillingham, Alaska, in 1960.  That could have been
a farmers’ drive shed back in Ontario but, here, in Dillingham it was the contact point with
the outside world.
Mike Chinnery and Alan Skeoch have kept up the pomposity four U.ofT. blazers.  Ian and Don have relaxed.

We only stayed in Dillingham for an  hour or so.  Just enough time for us to meet the two Yupik people and a chance
to see a Yupik  fish camp on the edge of the Bering Sea  where we had our fuel dump.
The S 52’s were revving up when I ran to the beach to get this photo.    Why were the hanging carcasses of
split salmon not bright red?   Simple answer. Because they were covered with flies.


At some point we met the Yupik man and wife.  At that point I took their picture.  Talk about aggorgance.
…self-importance…rudeness…holier than thou thinking.

Everything was moving so fast.   At the time I thought we would meet
many indigenous people.   Wrong.  These two were the onlyYupiks we 
saw on the whole summer job.

Isn’t that strange?   Why were the indigenous people so invisible?



 

Then we spent the summer being ferried by helicopter here and there across the empty space of SW Alaska.  We never even spotted
another Yupik.


Bill Morrison with the Turam console…


Bill Morrison expected me to help him with his main love…fishing.   We could fish while the midnight sun shone.
Of course this is an exaggeration. 

A barren land cut by occasional river valleys.  Thousands of years ago the Yupik people crossed here from Siberia.


  ALASKA 1960:    There were 31 of us on the job…25 American diamond
drillers and 6 Canadians using a Turam geophysical instrument to site drill sites in the great
emptiness of south west Alaska…north of the Aleutian Chain.

What I do remember clearly is that three of us, Canadians, proudly sported our University of Toronto dress
jackets.  Anglo Canadians with specialized knowledge. Proud and arrogrant we must have appeared. 

We only had a few minutes in Dillingham before we 
were to be ferried by big Sikorsky helicopters to our tent campsite in the interior.

I did not think.   Sitting on the doorstep in the village were two indigenous people.  Likely Yupik.  A Man and his wife…older…
perhaps in their 60’s.   Both seemed either super friendly or somewhat inebriated.    Without asking I took their picture.  Think about that.  These two Inigenous
Americans were  treated like I had been years earlier in a rock outcrop in northern Quebec…subjects of photography.   

In this case, however, I was the photographer just like the priest and his carload on the Opemiska road.

For the rest of the summer on the barren lands we never saw a native person.  Yet this was their home.
None were part of our crews.  They were the only indigenous people we met.    WE flew in…did our
survey…and flew out.  I never even asked their names.

Somewhere I have another picture.  Not proud of it.  When the Yupik man got up to shake my hand he
fell flat on his face. I helped him to his feet and asked one of our crew to take picture of us.
I was wearing my University of Toronto dress jacket.  He was wearing the clothes you see in the picture.
Even then, back in late May 1960, I felt uncomfortable about that picture.   I had crossed a line. Violated
a trust.  Exploited a situation.   

Today, in the bright lights of awareness of  others, I would not have  taken those pictures.
What should I have done?   The same thing that most people would have done…pretended
these indigenous people did not exist.  Which is worse? 

alan skeoch
July 2021 
  
WHO ARE THE YUPIK PEOPLE?

Population[edit]

The Central Alaskan Yup’ik people are by far the most numerous of the various Alaska Native groups. They speak the Central Alaskan Yup’ik language, a member of the  Eskimo–Aleut family of languages.
As of the 2002 U.S. Census, the Yupik population in the United States numbered more than 24,000,[4] of whom more than 22,000 lived in Alaska, the vast majority in the seventy or so communities in the traditional Yup’ik 

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EPISODE 379 MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE , CANADA DAY 2021″ “LOOK, THERE’S AN INDIAN…GET YOUR CAMERA.”

(Beginning…short series on my meetings with indigenous Canadians )

EPISODE 379    MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE ON CANADA DAY 2021: “LOOK, THERE’S AN INDIAN…GET YOUR CAMERA.”


alan skeoch
July 1, 2021

In my ten years of summer work in mining exploration I met many indigenous Canadians and two indigenous Americans.  In retrospect
the experience is unsettling.,,but also joyful.  Mostly joyful.






This is the closest photo I can find to illustrate a strange experience in late summer 1967…Northern Quebec.




My experience with indigenous Canadians is episodic … i.e. discrete stories unrelated to each other
but collectively important to me on this Canada Day 2021.  

1) Summer 1957:   I had been working in a tent camp near Chibougamau, northern Quebec for two months.  Outdoor work
slogging through our Canadian coniferous forests.  Tough work.  No time for the niceties of civilized life
like a haircut or a bath in soapy water.   Our crew was flown out to an old logging camp on the Opemiska
road…a wide gravel road where mining trucks had the right of way and precious few cars ever travelled.

Early One  sunshine filled evening I climbed up on a rock outcrop overlooking the roadway.  In a cloud of dust
a car came barreling along.   Passed me by.  Then braked and backed up.  A priest got out along with
some well dressed passengers with cameras.

“Look up there…that is an Indian…take pictures if you want.”

They were looking at me then snapped a few pictures. And then they were gone.  That was my earliest experience
with native people.  I was the native person.  I was caught on camera as if I was a moose or black bear that had
crept out of the forest.   Yes, it was amusing.  But in the back of my brain it was also unsettling. WhyWere native people
treated this way…i.e. ‘Things’ to be photographed then ignored?

And what made me look like an ‘Indian’?  My skin was now dark…like leather.  My hair was uncut.  My skin a bernished leather.
I had given up the war with insect cannibals…let them have their victory if they could chew their way through smoke filled pores.
I was part of the forest.  An oddity…a shadow.  My existence was entertainment…captured then forgotten.
That moment in 1957 remains crystal clear in my memory.  There was something about the moment ,,,those  cameras snapping.  
Something disconcerting.   At the time, however, it was just amusing. “Look, there’s an Indian up there on the rock.”

Our crew of ten men were all Anglo-Canadians.  That is we were all English speaking.  Our linecutting crew,
on the other hand, was all Franco-Canadian.  French speaking.  Our two crews did not talk to each other.  We lived
in the two solitudes of Canadian life.  

What was missing?   There were no indigenous Canadians on either crew.   At least none to my mind.  Yet not many
miles to the North West was the Mistassini Reserve…a large population of English speaking native people..

Chibougamau was a boom town.  Miners…lots of them.  Young men mostly with a few prostitutes available at
$20 a throw.   All this was very surprising to me for I was just a Grade 11 high school student from Toronto.  Voltaire’s
Candide as it were.

Where were our  indigenous Canadians in this hurly burly world of Chibougamau?   Where were they? They were not present.
They may have been here and there in the forested fringe but I never met one…never saw one….then I became one.

Where were they?   This is…was… their land.   Why were some of them not working the bush trails they
must have known so well.   Why was a Toronto high school student doing the job.
 Now it is year 2021 and I have never heard an answer.  Where were they?


NEXT:  PART TWO … BARREN LAND OF WEST ALASKA

THE ONLY time we were ever armed as geophysical exploration teams was the Alaska job.
But I remember meeting two Yupik indigenous people more than I remember this
rifle meant to scare off Kodiak bears.   The memory of first contact with Yupiks does not
reflect well on me.   Remember I was just a kid.  The contact was fleeting but in retrospect
disconcerting.   Coming in Episode 380
Posted on

EPISODE 379 MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE , CANADA DAY 2021″ “LOOK, THERE’S AN INDIAN…GET YOUR CAMERA.”

(Beginning…short series on my meetings with indigenous Canadians )

EPISODE 379    MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE ON CANADA DAY 2021: “LOOK, THERE’S AN INDIAN…GET YOUR CAMERA.”


alan skeoch
July 1, 2021

In my ten years of summer work in mining exploration I met many indigenous Canadians and two indigenous Americans.  In retrospect
the experience is unsettling.,,but also joyful.  Mostly joyful.






This is the closest photo I can find to illustrate a strange experience in late summer 1967…Northern Quebec.




My experience with indigenous Canadians is episodic … i.e. discrete stories unrelated to each other
but collectively important to me on this Canada Day 2021.  

1) Summer 1957:   I had been working in a tent camp near Chibougamau, northern Quebec for two months.  Outdoor work
slogging through our Canadian coniferous forests.  Tough work.  No time for the niceties of civilized life
like a haircut or a bath in soapy water.   Our crew was flown out to an old logging camp on the Opemiska
road…a wide gravel road where mining trucks had the right of way and precious few cars ever travelled.

Early One  sunshine filled evening I climbed up on a rock outcrop overlooking the roadway.  In a cloud of dust
a car came barreling along.   Passed me by.  Then braked and backed up.  A priest got out along with
some well dressed passengers with cameras.

“Look up there…that is an Indian…take pictures if you want.”

They were looking at me then snapped a few pictures. And then they were gone.  That was my earliest experience
with native people.  I was the native person.  I was caught on camera as if I was a moose or black bear that had
crept out of the forest.   Yes, it was amusing.  But in the back of my brain it was also unsettling. WhyWere native people
treated this way…i.e. ‘Things’ to be photographed then ignored?

And what made me look like an ‘Indian’?  My skin was now dark…like leather.  My hair was uncut.  My skin a bernished leather.
I had given up the war with insect cannibals…let them have their victory if they could chew their way through smoke filled pores.
I was part of the forest.  An oddity…a shadow.  My existence was entertainment…captured then forgotten.
That moment in 1957 remains crystal clear in my memory.  There was something about the moment ,,,those  cameras snapping.  
Something disconcerting.   At the time, however, it was just amusing. “Look, there’s an Indian up there on the rock.”

Our crew of ten men were all Anglo-Canadians.  That is we were all English speaking.  Our linecutting crew,
on the other hand, was all Franco-Canadian.  French speaking.  Our two crews did not talk to each other.  We lived
in the two solitudes of Canadian life.  

What was missing?   There were no indigenous Canadians on either crew.   At least none to my mind.  Yet not many
miles to the North West was the Mistassini Reserve…a large population of English speaking native people..

Chibougamau was a boom town.  Miners…lots of them.  Young men mostly with a few prostitutes available at
$20 a throw.   All this was very surprising to me for I was just a Grade 11 high school student from Toronto.  Voltaire’s
Candide as it were.

Where were our  indigenous Canadians in this hurly burly world of Chibougamau?   Where were they? They were not present.
They may have been here and there in the forested fringe but I never met one…never saw one….then I became one.

Where were they?   This is…was… their land.   Why were some of them not working the bush trails they
must have known so well.   Why was a Toronto high school student doing the job.
 Now it is year 2021 and I have never heard an answer.  Where were they?


NEXT:  PART TWO … BARREN LAND OF WEST ALASKA

THE ONLY time we were ever armed as geophysical exploration teams was the Alaska job.
But I remember meeting two Yupik indigenous people more than I remember this
rifle meant to scare off Kodiak bears.   The memory of first contact with Yupiks does not
reflect well on me.   Remember I was just a kid.  The contact was fleeting but in retrospect
disconcerting.   Coming in Episode 380
Posted on

EPISODE 379 HAPPY CANADA DAY

EPISODE 379     HAPPY CANADA DAY


alan skeoch
July 1, 2021

Well, Canada Day seems to to a bit of a downer this year.  The unmarked graves
of hundreds of native children wrenched from their homes only to die and be
buried in unmarked graves is a terrible legacy of Residential Schools.

Guilt?  Who should carry the guilt?  Much more will be said about this legacy.

It is a tough time.
We need to be happy…absolute need right now…so here is
my greeting on Canada Day 2021


Kevin and Andrew Skeoch…some years ago.  

Coming…my experience with indigenous people during my decade doing
mining exploration in tiny corners of North America that few will ever 
see.  Often these tiny corners were the homes of indigenous people.
More to come.

alan
Posted on

EPISODE 37ROBERT ROOT’S EXPERIENCE WITh LYME DISEASE – TICKS

EPISODE  379     ROBERT ROOT’S EXPERIENCE WITH LYME DISEASE = TICKS


SUMMERTIME AND THE NATURAL WORLD IS INVITING.





I love daisies…wild flowers in general.  I also love looking for Monarch Butterflies.  As do you.  Be careful…CAREFUL!



black legged tick – sometimes carrier of lyme disease -If deer are present then ticks are present.



black legged female tick swollen with blood

Photo of two nymphal blacklegged ticks on a hiking boot.
two ticks on a hiking boot…massive enlarged photo to show how tiny ticks can be




JUNE 28, 2021

LETTER TO ROBERT ROOT FRM ALAN SKEOCH

Hi Rooter,

I feel duty bound to write an episode on Lyme Disease  as many of
my stories involve outdoor activity …. sometimes but not many in long grass.
Your story is very important.  A cautionary tale since many people long for
a chance to get outdoors.  Chasing butterflies maybe.  Be careful.

A few years ago a good friend of mine got Lyme disease from a tick bite when
he walked through long grass on a hiking trail near Ancaster Ontario.  He did not
notice the tic.   It bit him, sucked some of his blood then dropped off.  Infected him. Rooter
had no idea he was infected with Lyme Disease so carried on normally until the
full impact of the disease struck.  It was devastating.  Best said in his own
words.   A clear warning to avoid long grass.  Easy to say.  Hard to do.




ROBERT ROOT’S STORY

    
Sunday afternoon August 22nd 2004 My wife and I went for a walk near The Hermitage in Ancaster. 
I left the trail and went into the long grass to get to the pinnacle of a hill we were climbing.  A day later a bulls eye rash
appeared on my left ankle and both ankles were badly swollen.  I lay down and put my feet up and my heart felt like it
was being flooded as lymphatic fluid poured into my heart from my legs.  The next day I saw my doctor and he put me
on an antibiotic and Lasix ( a dewatering pill ).  4X a day I put my feet up to drain the fluid.  The lymphatic system
was badly affected.  I had to stay around the house with my legs propped up and cancelled other activities.
I sang in a quartet at church but had to cancel that on the 29th and stay lying with my feet up. 
On the 30th I went to my doctor again and he gave me more antibiotics.  This was a very symmetrical disease.
When my left armpit was inflamed my right arm pit was too.  Swelling in my left wrist coincided with swelling of the right wrist.
When I first lay down my heart felt flooded as the great thoracic duct poured lymph into the auricle of the heart.  Wednesday
Sept 1st I saw my doctor again and received a third round of antibiotics for 7 days.   I stayed home the weekend of
Sept 5th and rested with my feet up.  Friday Sept 10th I washed the car.  I was now getting more active but still spent a good
part of each day with my legs up.  Sept 16th I went to choir practice and Sept 18th I attended My son Wesley’s STAG at
Woodbine racetrack but had to go to the car and prop my legs up to drain for a while. 
Sept. 29th my doctor prescribed support hose for me and to this day 17 years later I have to wear support hose and put
my legs up during the day.   I am one of the “Lucky ones” because my doctor got me the correct antibiotics right away.

Many people who contract Lyme Disease and don’t get the correct treatment right away suffer permanent organ
damage and have lifelong disabilities.

My doctor is a frontier doctor.  He has been treating farmers for a good part of his life.  One year he got the record for
the most home visits in a year.  He initially thought I had spider bites but he did diagnose the correct antibiotic.  Hallelujah!

We still check for ticks and occasionally find them on us even if we are not out in long grass.





CAUTION

Being outdoors after the Covid 19 isolation can be wonderful.  But be careful.
Long years ago when I worked in Southern Ireland I noticed many cattle herds
carried ticks on their snouts.  I had never heard of ticks until then.  Our work involved
crossing and criss crossing Irish fields…climbing over stone fences with lots of long grasses.

     Pushing our way through gorse and bracken…dense.

  So each
night I carefully examined my body for ticks. Especially my legs.  Never found one
fortunately.   Irish ticks were ugly but did not carry Lyme disease then but they do now..  In North
America the situation was dangerous. 

You would not want to get Lyme Disease as my good friend Bob Root has explained.

Marjorie picked a tick from Woody our Labrador last week.  No joke.

alan skeoch
june 2021


Posted on

EPISODE 378 STONE SILO CIRCA 1870-1880: WHERE DID THEY GET THE STONES?

EPISODE 378    STONE SILO CIRCA 1870-1880: WHERE DID THEY GET THE STONES?


alan skeoch
June 2021

This stone silo has stood here since Angus McLean built it in the 1870’s.  ( McLean-Saunders-MacLeod-Skeoch, Skeoch, Con…owners)
Take a close look.  Not one stone is uniform.  Sizes and shapes are never replicated.  It looks unstable yet the silo is now over 
150 years old.  An unusual piece of Scottish stonemasons art.

Angus McLean had to use whatever was available.  And in Erin Township, Wellington County,
Ontario stones were always available.  They still are.  Each year a new crop of stones is pushed 
to the surface.  “That’s my best crop.”
 





Stone are available if we decide to make the silo higher.   One factor is missing.  The skill to take rounded irregular stones
of all sizes  and put them together in such a way that they will stand for 150 years.  Angus McLean died a long time ago.




Enthusiastic stone pickers.


Piled on a stone boat.



Hauled oto a designated spot for the stone pile.  Then unloaded.   There were always snakes ready to take up residence in
the stone pile.

Why was this rocky land given or sold to Scottish migrants in the 19th century?  Simple answer.  Scotland is
full of stone fields.   The land agents figured Scots would like stone fields.  And they did.  Stone houses were 
a specialty as was the stone house built on the Skeoch farm near Fergus.  Like the silo , it is still standing.











































































































Posted on

EPISODE 376 STRAWBERRIES (and whipped cream…yum yum)



Begin forwarded message:


From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: Strawberries
Date: June 28, 2021 at 8:37:52 AM EDT
To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>


EPISODE 376      STRAWBERRIES

alan skeoch
June 2021

Yesterday I sent an episode implying that the future of  farming is rather bleak for
small time operators.  Today I would like to correct that.  Why?  Because today
we dropped into a tiny farm…perhaps an acre of productive land.  The parking lot
is bigger than the field.   Yet the production is fantastic.  And the price matches
the production.  These berries come from the cooler of a strawberry farm
just a mile or so west of Georgetown…follow he signs on the Fifth Line. NO time
for us to hand pick,  The field had about 20 pickers already.

Bring money.   Marjorie bought this flat of fresh berries for $42.  Expensive!
Yes.  Cheaper if you pick your own and get them weighed.   But these
berries are the best…big and sweet and ready for big dollops of whipped cream.

There is a crowd picking these berries at this very moment.  I an hesitant
telling you where it is located.   But I will.  Turn on to the Fifth line north
of highway 401 or drive north on Trafalgar Road…look for a hand lettered
strawberry sign…make a left turn a mile or so north on Trafalgar.  Look for the signs.

First picture is all green.  Second picture adds lots of red.












Sent from my iPhone


Posted on

Fwd: EPISODE 376 THE FACE OF MODERN AGRICULTURE….2021



Begin forwarded message:


From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: EPISODE 376 THE FACE OF MODERN AGRICULTURE – ANTHONY ACRES….2021
Date: June 26, 2021 at 3:08:23 PM EDT


EPISODE 376    THE FACE OF MODERN AGRICULTURE – ANTHONY ACRES – 2021



alan skeoch
June 2021





CORPORATE FARMING:  STRIKING A DEAL WITH ANTHONY ACRES


There are still 100 acre farms here and there in Southern Ontario. Winaries for instance.  They must be economically worthwhile.  But the face
of modern agriculture is increasingly changing in scale.  That is not really news.   Just a drive in the countryside presents lots
of evidence.  Empty old bank barns and oversized tractors. We meet the new machines of agriculture every time we drive to the farm.  Imagine the investment necessary for
corporate farming like Anthony Acres.   How could they  make a profit.  Thousands of acres are necessary.   Anthony Acres rents thousands
of acres.  Most of their Land is rented not owned.   

Our two sons and partner Nick own a farm with about 60 to 70 acres of cropland.  They are not farmers.   Andrew dropped in to
the home farm of Anthony Acres which is just a short distance from their farm.  fifth line, Limehouse, Ontario.  The meeting was a good one.   Perhaps I can
put the conversation in dialogue form.  (My words)

“Hi, we own the old McLean – Saunders – McLeod farm up the road and wonder
whether you are interested in leasing the cropland before the weeds take over.”
“Might be interested but I’ll have to take a look first.”
“Now?”
“Yes…good a time as any…if land is good we can get a cover crop in fast.”

(Visit to farm)


“Let’s strike a deal…we need a three year lease at least…and will pay $90 an acre yearly…about 60 acres.”
“That will help pay the property taxes…for sure.”
“Should cover about 75% of the cost.”
“We  want to keep one field and the barnyard.”
“Fine.”
“I overheard a conversation once that claimed rented land was just being mined…corn, year after year,
until the land was exhausted.  Hate to think of that.”
“That’s pure hearsay…not true.  We care for the land.  No till agriculture…always keep the top soil covered
…cover crops like clover…nitrogen fixing.  We improve the soil.  Crop rotation…corn, soybeans, wnter wheat…
top soil never gets exposed to wind.”
“Did you notice the stones?”
“I did.”
“Won’t they be a problem?”
“Lots of the land around here is stony…ancient ice sheets 10,000 year ago pushed and ground stones as the ice
age advanced.  Then, when the ice retreated, the land was strewn with rocks.”
“One of my dad’s uncles ruined his Massey Ferguson combine when one rock got into the cylinder…bent it all to hell.”
“We are super careful.   I will send in a rock picker to go over all your fields before planting time.”
“Rock picker?”
“Tractor with steel forks…gets all the big rocks.  Where do you want them dumped…we’ll send one of the boys
up here next week.   Fields will be safe for combines after that.””
“But the  rocks get pushed up every year by the frost.”
“Then we’ll do another picking.  Part of the business.”

“Did you noice the old stone silo>?”
“Sure did.  Not many of those around.  Made out of the stones gathered by the Mclean family in the 1870’s.  Never saw
one before.”
“Used for Sileage, I think…Chopped up corn….stalks and all…fine dining for cattle n winter.””
“Yes. Some people think our silos are used that way.  Not true…our steel silos are filled with shelled corn….moved around with elevators to 
get the kernels dry.   Eliminate any chance of mould.    No relation to your fieldstone silo.  Better get a roof on it if you can.”

“All those machines must set you back a fortune…all John Deere except for the tractor trailers …”
“That’s why we need a lot of land…thousands of acres.”

(Unspoken thought:  “One of those tractors with attachments would cost a small fortune.
If Anthony Acres tried to buy all the land they needed the business would not be viable.  Renting, however, made good sense.)





NOTE:   BELOW IS A SHORT EXCERPT FROM ANTHONY ACRES WEB PAGE


Where and how we operate

Anthony Acres Ltd is a Canadian company operating in Southern Ontario within a large region from the Greater Toronto Area in the south, to the Dundalk Highlands in the north, from Guelph in the west to Caledon in the east. This area, inclusive of the Regions and Counties of Halton, Peel, Wellington and Dufferin, represents some of the best farmland in all of Canada.
By means of Best Management Practices and Precision Agriculture, Anthony Acres Ltd is dedicated to conserving, preserving, protecting and improving the farmland and the environment in which we work.
We are vertically integrated, with all facets of the business being done in-house.
This includes:
  • crop marketing and sales
  • agronomy
  • seed cleaning and treating
  • field cropping and crop protection product application
  • equipment maintenance
  • trucking
  • cropland improvement and protection.
We have 2 elevating, drying and storage facilities, one in the Greater Toronto Area and on the border of Wellington County and Dufferin County.