DEATH IN THE WOODS
by Sonny Hare

A lot of people died in the woods and some of them were never found. There was a fellow by the name of Clarence Wright who worked on a lumber drive for Sinclair's, I believe. He worked back there somewheres on the Tomogonops River. They said he got feeling poorly and complained of ill health and went for help. Whatever the reason he decided he was going home. Right after he set out on the trail it started to snow and it snowed about two feet. Nobody ever heard tell of him after. Four years later my grandfather was trapping up there and he came across his remains. There was just the bones and a bit of clothing left. His belt, boots and stuff. It was Clarence Wright. It looked as if he had sat himself up against a tree and then died there. Grandfather found him all those years later. He was only two or three miles from where his camp was. There was a piece in the Leader or the Advocate about him. He went missing in April, 1920 and was found in December, 1923. He was only forty years old. Tiley identified him from an injured bone in his left arm. He had received a bullet wound in that arm during the First World War. Old Major MacTavish. There was Old Major and Little Major. Old Major lived near the mouth of Millstream right there in Whitneyville. The poor old fellow had altzimers disease or something and one day he wandered away. He was old and feeble as well as being forgetful and everything else. His family looked everywheres but they couldn't find him. Six years later my uncle, Pearl Hare, found him Elliot Dunnet from up Sillikers way says Harold Silliker found him It doesn't really matter who found him but be was found up on the hill right back of where the Strata School was located. He was found along a line fence. He was only two or three miles from home. He wandered away, crawled in there and died. Pretty sad way to go, eh?
There's an old fellow buried in the woods down the road here. His name was Daniel MacDonald. The grave is between here (HalfWay Inn) and Deersdale. He was an old trapper who never come home. Somebody went in and found him the next summer. He was laying in his camp all covered up with these big mullen
leaves and his hands folded on his chest. He looked like he was laying there asleep. The lad went in and grabbed him by the beard to give it a tug and wake him up. the hair of his beard came off in the lad's hand They buried him right there. I have his grave site on video. Irving's put a little rail fence around the grave and somebody carved his name in a big stone and put it there. I don't know any history on him other than his name. There were no dates on his headstone.

by Elliot Dunnett

There was a man by the name of W.C. Anslow was lost in the woods up here, ya know. He was an Advocate man. The Advocate was a newspaper like The Leader and he worked for it or maybe he owned it. Whatever, he was up here hunting with his son and be got lost. That was in the fall of 1897. They never found him for four years. Byron Hubbard from Cassilis found him. He was found him right at the mouth of Park's Brook. He traveled eight or nine miles
and bad crossed a road that would have taken him out of the woods. At the time some old feelers thought he crossed that road at night. When he come to the brook he must have followed it out to the main river. The family offered a reward of fifty dollars and a lot of people were involved in the search but it didn't do no good I suppose he was all in and didn't have the strength to make 'er down the river. A lonely way to die,eh?

You heard of Leslie Allen haven't you? He was from Moncton. They wrote a poem about him. It's in Dr. Louise Manny's book, "Songs of the Miramichi". He got lost up around Black Brook the other side of Blackville. Somewheres near the Cains River area, This was sometime back in the 1920's. They found him around the Semi Wagan Brook. It runs into the Barnaby River. A feller from Rogersville by the name of Henry Casey found him the next year. He had hung his handkerchief way up on a tree and built himself a small shelter of boughs. The shelter wasn't enough to save him and nobody saw the handkerchief.

Two fellers from up Millerton way got lost back around the turn of the century up on the Dungarvon River. Weldon Robinson and Walter Crocker were their names. Weldon's father was an M.P. and Walter had a lame leg. When they started home they got caught in au early snowstorm. They made it out to Alex Storey's camp and he offered to put them up for the night. Crocker's sister was to be married the next day and he wanted to be there of course so they decided to push on. Late in the afternoon they could hear the train blow but they were too exhausted to travel any further. They hunkered down in the snow and in the morning Crocker was dead. They were only three quarters of a mile from Joe Beeks house. Walter was twenty eight years old and was engaged to be married
himself. His girl friend was a Susie Gillespie from Chatham. His family received the news of his death just as his sister's wedding was getting under way. Talk about a terrible wedding present! You couldn't get one much worse than that.

Back in the early 60's a woman got lost up around Blackville somewheres. Her name was Margaret
Burke and I don't believe she's been found to this day.

KILLING MOOSEBIRDS
by Sonny Hare

I drove tractor for Frasers when they built the Mullen Stream Road. Some of the other lads working there with me were Nelson Fowler, Donnie Parks, Douff Black, Red Will Burns, Clayton Mahoney and I think Clayton Matchett was the cook. There were some boys from Renous and a bunch of older men who had worked in and around the woods all their life.
We were working about ten miles above the settlement, about where old Jack Hare had his camps. Percy Smith has a camp there now.
As I said before we had a bunch of old fellers there. One of them was an Allison from Millerton. He drove a team of horses. At dinner time we'd be sitting around and for a little sport I'd take Clayton Mahoney's 44:40 and shoot moose birds off the top of trees. The gun belonged to Clayton's father and it was accurate as old hell. Then, being a young lad, I'd brag saying,"Boys, wasn't that a great shot!" I did it to agitate these old lads ya see. Well, they were old to me. I was just fifteen or sixteen and I suppose they were in their fiftys or sixties. Then the old fellers, everyone of them, would get mad and upset! They wouldn't even lunch with you if you hurt a moose bird. No sir! They were right upset and they'd say,"You're gonna get killed! You're gonna this! You're gonna that!"
So anyway, I was working this day about three quarters of a mile behind a crew putting in culverts. Duff Black was there with his tractor helping them. My tractor broke down and when I stepped off it to walk back out, I took my twelve gauge shotgun with me. Half way out what steps out of the woods but a great big bull moose! I kept right on walking thinking that as soon as he sees me, he'll go back into the woods. However, he didn't seem to notice me and thinking I'd better draw his attention to me, I fired the shotgun into the air. It was loaded with bird shot.
The men at the culvert looked up and saw that old moose sink right to his knees in the freshly ploughed ground as he took off straight for me. He had a mighty spread of horns on him!
Of course, as soon as I seen him charge, I turned around and where was I but in a kind of a bog without a tree any bigger than your arm! Nothing you could climb or get behind but one old jack pine that looked like a telephone pole.
I made for that jack pine as tight as I could go. The next thing I remember was being about fifteen feet off the ground and wrapped all around this tree. On my way up the tree I broke off every small branch and twig on her and they were in my hair and down my neck. And I still had the shotgun!
I don't mind telling you boys, I was scared as hell. That moose had come just a snorting and I mean he was ugly. His eyes were red and he was grunting somethin'
fierce. He'd look up the tree at me and take his front feet and paw a square mouthed shovel full of sod twenty feet behind him The boys out at the culvert were having a great laugh. They all hollered, "Come on down, Sonny. He won't touch yon. He just wants to play with you."
Like ole hell he did! He'd walk away from the tree a bit and look as nonchalant as you please, but the second I moved, he'd swing just as fast as he could back to the bottom of my tree. I soon decided this was not a good place to spend the afternoon.
I sung out to the others to bring a tractor back and scare the moose away. Again they teased me and said,"Oh no, he won't hurt you. Come on down. You'll be okay." I held out the shotgun and said I would shoot the damn moose if they didn't help me.
So Nelson Fowler, he was the boss, jumped on the tractor with Douff and headed back to help me. When they were about a hundred feet away that old moose turned around and made straight for the tractor. He charged, ka-thump, right into the blade and Doff held the old tractor right to the floor and pushed him backwards into the bushes. After he thrashed around a bit, he gained his feet and away he went.
Then all the old lads come down and said,"Oh, he wouldn't a hurt ya, Sonny. He's just like those little moose birds, eh?" They thought it was great fun. And that isn't the end of the story! About three nights later the cook come in and said that there was a bear in the spring where we kept our meat and stuff.
Everyone jumped and grabbed a rifle! The camp was full of guns. A fellow by the name of Duffy from up in Renous loaded and cocked his gun, and then passed it to me. Just then the bear walks out broad side on maybe a hundred and fifty feet away, looking at all us fellers in a commotion. An easy shot!
So I hauled up the old rifle and BANG!..•.• I never touched him! Away he went.
Well, jeez, when I went in for supper that night everybody started at me! They hollered,"You're some shot, young fella! You can hit the little moose birds but you missed that bear standing broad side on and as big as a barn door! You're not such a great hunter when you're facing real game are ya?"
They gave me such a razzing I couldn't eat my supper. I had to get up and leave. Boys, oh, boys, they sure rubbed it in.

THE MARSHMALLOW BEAR
by Sonny Hare

Joe Sullivan originally came from Barnaby River. His father still lives there but he and most of his brothers live down in Massachusetts or Maine. Anyway they drop in here every once in a while on their way hunting or fishing.
Joe came in this day and he had a fellow with him from the States. Joe made me acquainted with him and when I asked him what he did for a living the lad told me he mostly run around and took video pictures of wild life. He also mentioned that he did some still photography but was disappointed he hadn't seen a damn thing on his way over.
I said, "Oh well, don't worry, after we finish our coffee I'll go call a bear for you." The lad looked at Joe kind of queer, but knowing me Joe simply replied, "Ya, okay." He still looked a little skeptical but we sat there and finished our coffee.We talked for about a half an hour and then I said,"Okay, let's go call a bear." I told him if he wanted some pictures of a bear he should have a camera. He went and got his video camera not really knowing if we were pulling his leg or not. We went out into the back yard here and I called," Here bear, here pretty bear. Come on out pretty bear!"
By now the guy's looking at me and then looking at Joe as if I was real crazy, but just then a bear steps out of a stand of alders. There's a bunch of bears hang out around there and whenever I sing out they come to me for a treat.
The lad said, "Holy --, look at the big bear! Is it tame?"
I told him it was a wild bear and for him to set up his tripod and camera a bit further back and I would try to get the bear a little closer. While he's doing this I take out a bag of marshmallows. Two or three of the bears really love marshmallows.
I tossed one as far as I could and the bear came over, picked it up, ate it and looked at us as if to say, "Haven't you got any more?"
I took another one and threw it about six feet away. The bear came over and ate it while I took out a third one and held it in my hand. The bear started over to us and I put the marshmallow in Joe's pocket. Now this is where the fun starts!
You have to keep in mind that Joe was an electrician and at one time was involved in an industrial accident. He lost both of his hands in the accident and now has two hooks where his hands used to be.
After I shoved the marshmallow in his pocket he tried to get it out. He was digging, pulling and hauling with these two hooks, but not being able to feel anything with them he was having the devil of a time getting rid of the marshmallow.
In the meantime the bear came right up to him looking for it.
Finally, Joe hauled the hook out of his pocket and the marshmallow was stuck on the end of it. Then he made this big swing to get rid of it! But the bear was standing right there and Joe bit him fair and square in the mouth!
In just a flash the bear took off.
Boys, she was a tight moment! The camera got it all!
A stranger came in here one day after that and told me he had seen me on video.

"Ya," he said, "I saw you put a marshmallow in Joe Sullivan's pocket. Boys didn't he jump!"

HIS HAIR TURNED WHITE
by Sonny Hare

Old Ned Creamer, not Ned the teacher, but his grandfather. Old Ned's daughter was Bessie Creamer. You've heard of her. She taught school in Newcastle most of her life. When I was a kid, about sixty years ago, he used to come over home and sit in our old rocking chair. He'd sit there all evening and they'd talk and tell stories When he left there would be enough of those old kitchen matches on the floor to start the fire in the morning. He'd light his pipe and then get to talking and she'd go out. Then he'd light her again. He never had to put any tobacco in the pipe. We used to say he smoked matches. The story they told about Ned ..•..••. Father told me this, and of course at one time I believed it, but now it doesn't seem quite possible. Ned worked for Sin clair's and he was taking a team of horses into a camp up here on the Dungarvon or up on the Sevogle. I don't know just where but he was taking the portage team in someplace that took him two days to get in. After traveling all day and getting about half way in he stopped for the night. He took the horses off the wagon and tied them to the wagon wheel. He gave them some hay and put some more under the wagon for his bed. He would finish his trip the next day. After he got all straightened away and it got dark, these awful screeches started coming from the woods all around him. Terrible, terrible screeches! It was an Injun Devil! What it was ... now that we look back ... it was an eastern panther.
The two horses broke their tethers and away they went! Ned was left there alone all night with this screaming and roaring all around him in the woods. Anyway, he stayed there all night and the next day he had to walk into the camp to get the horses and go back for the wagon. When he got into the camp, Ned's hair was white! Snow white! This is the story they told, but its not physically possible for your hair to turn white overnight because it's made of dead material. Now, whether it turned white that night or shortly after I don't know, but he had a head of hair as white as snow when I knew him. Anyway, the Injun devil, or panther, or whatever the hell it was, it scared poor old Ned awful bad.

SLAPPING THE BEAR
by Sonny Hare

Here this summer I was feeding marshmallows to a little female bear. She was real anxious and in too much of a hurry. She sort of snapped at me when I was giving her a marshmallow. She touched my fingers. Bears have great big lips but they can pick peanuts out of your hand one at a time.
Anyway, I slapped her along side of the head! You talk about an offended bear! She hacked right off and she was really upset that I hit her! Her feelings were hurt! Just like a dog or a kid. For about two weeks after that she'd hang back but I'd sing out to her,"Come on over pretty bear and get a marshmallow." She'd come over hut she'd reach away out for the marshmallow. She'd even put one hind leg way out behind her to balance herself.
And if I moved she'd haul back real quick. She was scared of getting slapped again.
They're quite the animal! They're a lot more like humans than people think. They all have feelings and different personalities just like we do

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PUSHING THE BEAR
by Sonny Hare

Those bears are cute in more ways than one. One time I was sitting on a little pile of lumber feeding this bear marshmallows from behind my back. They're greedy, you know. They want everything they see. I'd take a marshmallow from behind my back and give it to him and he'd eat it. Then he'd look around my side from where I got the marshmallow. I had both hands behind my back and then I'd bring another one out from behind mc with the other hand. Then he'd look again around this side.
I kept this up for awhile but then he got tired of the game. So what he did he got up on his hind legs, put his front paws on my shoulders and looked over my back! Now don't forget that this is a wild bear! When the bear put his paws on my shoulders, my dog, Toby, come to his feet and the hair stood straight up on his neck! Before I got in the middle of a fracas with the dog and the bear I said, "Down Toby. It's okay. Settle down.' After Toby settled down I put my hands on the bear's chest and slowly but firmly pushed him away from me. Talk about a tight situation! Talk about bad breath!!!

BITING THE BEAR
by Sonny Hare

As long as the bears stay away from that old Chevy truck out there my dog, Toby, gets along with them. The dog thinks the truck is his. I always take him with me when I go into the woods or haul wood. One day he was laying under the truck while I was up on the back unloading wood. While I was working away a bear
come over looking for something to eat. He walked straight by Toby. Toby looked up and saw the bear!
Out he come from under the truck and in just a flash he chomped right onto the bear's arse! Well sir, the bear took off back through the yard. He was just flying! That old bear was just a galloping with the dog hooked onto his ass and dragging all four feet! Talk about rocks flying! They went about two hundred feet back though the yard until finally Toby let go. I tell you boys that was a sight to see! The next evening the same bear come ont and Toby recognized him. He knows everyone of them by sight. As soon as he spotted the bear the hair all shot up on him. And as soon as the bear saw Toby he all rounded up. He wasn't going to run this time. I said,"All right you fellas. That's enough of that."
Soon's I told Toby to lie down the bear kinda settled down and come over. I played with him for awhile and sort of smoothed things over. They still keep a wary eye on each other but so far they get along without too much trouble.

KICKING THE BEAR

by Sonny Hare

I've got a bunch of bears out back here and several of them love marshmallows. We 've gotten used to each other and they will come right up and eat out of my hand. I can even get them to stand up on their hind legs and feed them marshmallows. There was one big fellow come out one day. He come over to me and I'd say,"Get up. Get up," and hold the marshmallow over his head. He stood up just like a pet dog and ate right out of my hand. If I held it up too high for him to reach with his mouth, he'd just reach up his paw, and as gentle as anything, he'd pull my arm down and eat the marshmallow. After I did this several times, he got a tired of my game. I was tormenting him quite a bit. Anyway, I stood there with the bag in one hand, and held a marshmallow in my other hand over his head. He stood up and took the marshmallow out of my hand, and before I could reach in the bag for another one, he dropped down and took the bag from me!
He took the bag and turned around to walk away from me. When he turned I hollered at him and kicked him as hard as I could right fair in the arse!
He jumped and took off but he only run about twenty five feet from where we were. Then he sat down and ate the whole bag of marshmallows. He even ate the plastic bag. He ate the whole works!
After he had his little lunch, he come right back looking for more. Talk about gall!

A WILD MAN
by Sonny Hare

Jack Hare was born on the Nor' West Miramichi and grew up there. When he was a young man he left home and went out west. He went out west before the days of the Canadian Harvest Excursions. It is believed that he went out to the American west. The wild west. What he did out there for twenty years we don't know but we do know a few facts about his life after he come home. The first thing people tell you about him is his nicknames: Wild Jack, Cowboy Jack
and Porcupine Jack. The second thing they tell you is that he always carried a big .45 Colt revolver on his belt He never shot anybody with it but everybody was
aware he had it and treated him with due respect. Apparently, he was noted as an excellent shot. On different occasions he was seen taking the heads off partridges with his pistol. Some people have a hard time doing this with a rifle. It was also said he would sit his wife, Dora, on the veranda and shoot a corn
cob pipe out of her mouth. He had a pinto saddle horse and would often be seen riding it to Newcastle. On the odd occasion he would stop in at the Government Store for a small pint or two. Wild Jack enjoyed the odd occasion on most any occasion. It has been reported more than a few times that if any dogs came out to bark at Cowboy Jack or his pinto, he would take great delight in pulling his revolver and shooting the dogs. Nobody really complained about their dogs getting shot. Everyone was a bit scared of him. He run a line of camps from the Sevogle all the way up to Mullen Stream Lake. He was one of the first Miramichers to bring in American sports to hunt and fish. When he was once asked by a sport what it would cost for a weeks hunting, Jack told him if he had to ask, he couldn't come. One time he built a dam on a trout stream. The dam was made of logs placed about an inch apart. The water flowed through the logs, the little fish could swim up through them but the big fish couldn't get down river on their way to the ocean. One spring Jack netted a sled load of five pound trout. He kept them in an ice house and later that year sold them to the sports who didn't catch any. He ran a big dance hall at Big Hole up on the Sevogle. A lot of young ladies could only go there if they were escorted by older brothers. It was a rough place!
The men coming down of the drives always made a stop at the dance hall. Near the hall was a swinging foot bridge. Before setting foot on the bridge the drivers had to take off their work boots. Jack threatened more than one cork booted driver that he would shoot him if he marked the bridge. It was his bridge and he always had a gun and nobody argued. One time he went trapping with his young brother-in-law but Jack developed a terrible thirst and no matter what
he drank he couldn't quench it. He even drank the juice from every can of peaches in the camp and then threw the peaches in the camp yard. After drinking every thing liquid he could lay his hands on he told the young fellow,"You get ready, Boy. We're going to Newcastle in the morning." This was not good news! There was three feet of snow in the woods and all the brooks and rivers were just opening up. Anyway, they took off in the morning. When they came to a flooded brook they would normally go upstream until a crossing was found. But no sir, anything that was possible to wade, anything below their armpits, Jack just bailed into her and swamped over to the other side. The young brother-in-law later said he was never so scared, never so tired and never so cold in all his life. That trip out of the woods was his worst nightmare. When they got to Newcastle, Jack got a big store of liquor and wanted to go back trapping. The young lad said there was no way anyone could ever get him back in the woods with Wild Jack again! That boy later got a job working in town for Lounsburys'. Wild Jack, Cowboy Jack and/or Porcupine Jack lived a long and eventful life in and around the woods on the Nor' West Miramichi. He was certainly one of a kind!

THE BIG TIMBER
by Sonny Hare

When I was a kid we used to swim up by the Northwest Bridge. There was a fellow by the name of Mc Kay who lived by the underpass. He had one arm off and his job was to look after the bridge. That bridge had a draw span on it and he would put a big pipe in a shaft and walk round and round it. This would move a big gear which in turn would swing the bridge open to let the tugboats through. Sometimes he would let us young fellows help him open the bridge. One time we were up there swimming and a heavy northwest wind blew the tide way out and the water was real low in the river. The only place there was any water, was in the channel.
There was a great big mud flat out there where the railroad bridge is now. The mud flat was always under the water so we never saw the hugh timber that was there. Laying out in the middle of the mud was a squared timber two feet by two feet and about sixty feet long. Just laying there in the mud.
So this old Mc Kay said,"One of you fellers take this axe, be careful it's sharp, and go out there and cut into that timber. See how far in it is rotten and bring me back a chip."
We waded out through the mud. We had our bathing suits on so there was no need to worry about getting dirty. We washed off in the river after we got back.
Anyway, we cut into the timber. It was jet black about an inch or two into the wood. Then under the black we hit sound solid wood! That wood was still as good as the day it was cut!
It was a big pine they had cut way up river years and years before. They had hewed it ont with broad axes and floated it down river to put on a ship but it sank on them. They lost it. It was two feet square and sixty feet long. That's a big timber. There's a few trees around here that size today but they're few and far between. I bet that timber is still there in the mud ••. and under an inch or two of black rot she's as sound as ever!

FORTY MILES ON SNOWSHOES
by Sonny Hare

Amos Hare was my father and he was one hell of a rugged man. About sixty two years ago, at the time my brother Ernie was about to be born, he was working for Frasers at Little River. This is just the other side of where Heath Steel mines is today. Somebody came back to the camp and told him Mother was due to have her baby. Without a second thought, he put on his snowshoes and struck 'er for town. It's over forty miles from Little River to Newcastle.
He snowshoed out without stopping!
Then about two or three days later, after Ernie was born, he snowshoed back again. The first day he went as far as Kingston's, where old Paul Kingston used to live. He stayed there overnight and then snowshoed the rest of the way in the next day.
That was some kind of a hike on snowshoes!
Forty miles without stopping!

BURNING DEVILS
by Sonny Hare

My grandfather, Ernest Hare, lived down there in Whitneyville. In the fall around the first snowfall, he'd go up into the woods to trap and stay there all winter. Everything he needed for the winter he'd carry in on his back. They'd shoot a caribou or a moose for food and bait for the traps. He told me about this old trapper he run across up in the woods one time. His name was Smith and he was being bothered by a couple of Injun devils (eastern panthers or wolverines). Old Smith rigged up a trap to catch one. He took a peavey and stuck it between two logs underneath a windfall. He had filed the metal end to a real sharp point and had it pointing upwards. He put a caribou skin over the sharpened metal.
When the animal jumped down off the windfall on the caribou skin, it impaled itself on the sharpened point of the peavey. Then Smith went to work and built a great big fire and burnt the critter He never skinned it or nothing He just burnt it!
Later on he and grandfather were walking along a trail and a big blob of snow fell off a tree. When they looked up they saw the other one. Old Smith shot it and they built another fire and burnt that one too. I don't know why they burnt them. Superstition or what the hell! It was just a damn cat. It was just a
panther or a wolverine. That's all. But those old fellers didn't like the screams and screeches that come out of them at night. Screams in the middle of the night are
scary.

TOBY THE BEAR
by Sonny Hare

the girls in the restaurant save the old french fries and hamburger in a bucket for me to feed the bears. The bears really like the grease and it saves me the trouble of lugging out a lot of garbage. They recycle it for me. I was back here feeding the bears one day when two ladies saw me and took a walk back. The bears were busy eating so I went over to talk to them. We stood there and talked about the bears while they were eating. They were only about ten feet away from us and I was kind of impressed with the old gals for not being afraid of them. Toby, my dog, was down behind the camps at the time. He's half as big as a bear and just as black as one. As we were walking back past the camps, Toby come tearing out from behind one of them. One of the women let out a god awful screech and grabbed the other one! I thought she was going to faint!
She thought Toby was a bear. He scared the hell right out of her. I don't think she was as brave as she let on.

THE LAST CARIBOU
by Sonny Hare

The Holmes Lake camps were built in 1906. Father stayed up there one winter when he was a kid. He stayed with Grant Forsythe. Grant was looking after the place. The only caribou he ever remembered seeing were those he saw that winter. Fifteen of them walked across the lake and the old fellow took out the mauser and shot two of them. That's the last caribou he remembered seeing. That would be in the middle teens. Somewheres between 1913 and1919. They said that there used to be a lot of caribou around here at one time.