The Early Years – Part 1

In the early years of homesteading on the prairies, it would have been a lonely life if it had not been for neighbours and community gatherings. Families were often separated by miles of open land, and long days of chores could pass with little company beyond the wind and the wide-open sky. When someone needed help raising a barn, bringing in a harvest, or tending to an illness, word travelled quickly and people showed up because everyone understood how much depended on mutual support. My maternal grandmother was a practical nurse and was called away from home many a day or night to tend to the sick or delivering a baby in her area. In a place where distance and weather could isolate a household overnight, these small acts of neighbours sharing commitment to farm life, helped turn scattered homesteads into a community.

In 1944 when my Uncle Clayt moved to the Vanesti District and married my Aunt Doris, there were several families in each direction from the Vanesti School. By 1961, my uncle had moved further east. He retired and my parents bought his ranch. The “farm family landscape” had changed significantly. There were still many farms in the area but some to the west of our yard had moved away. Over the next 25 years, several more neighbouring farms sold out and moved away. Today, there are only remnants of those early small mixed prairie farms and some still identifiable. I am most familiar with those which were on our ranch land. My Dad pointed them out while we rode pasture together when I was young. Immediately to the west of our farmyard was endless pastureland. We would saddle up and ride all day checking cattle in the Battle River hills and valley (and bush I might add!) In that immense pasture, there were three farmsteads. There is a concrete footing that bordered the cellar of a small house at the first location. The outer yard was big; remains of a barn and corral and remnants of several outbuildings were evident for many years but gone now. This family raised cattle. It was a beautiful yard built on a perfect flat area before the rising of the hills, overlooking a coulee to the immediate east and river hills to the south. Heading south from this farmyard, was a narrow wagon trail following the bottom of rolling hills on the right and on top of the coulee hill to the left. At one point, the trail headed up the easiest side of a steep hill, now covered by poplar trees but still visible. At the top of that hill, it travelled a short distance to the next farmstead. Evidence of a once ploughed field says these folks farmed. The remnants of a rock foundation for their big barn says they had cattle too. Caragana’s that once lined their yard and barnyard have grown wild and there is a cellar hole and possibly a well indentation. There is a picture in the history book of one of the family’s who lived there standing in front of the little bungalow so I know what it looked like and I can still see it in my mind when I ride by there. The small bungalow faced south, and a panoramic view still takes your breath away. A steep river hill merged into a beautiful flat expanse that stopped at the next farmstead. This is where my aunt and uncle began their farming adventure. Their rough cabin sat on one side of the trail which led straight to the river just a few hundred yards away. A barn, and corrals stood opposite the lodging. The border of a ploughed field remains on the flat land before the buildings. Just like today’s farmers, they would have looked forward to a good yield every year. The lazy flowing Battle River was visible as it curved back and forth like a ribbon. For miles to the east and west you could see the river valley. To the south was another ravine aptly named, “Hope Valley.” Their hope was to build a great life.