Hay-cutting began on the 20th (afterwards 25th) July, and the scene of operations was the wild prairie. The outer two miles of each river frontage belonged, for hay purposes, to the frontage owner up to a certain date, but for the most part cutting was done on prairie that was free as air to everybody. The best hay meadows were located in good time before the above date, and on the night before people were camped all around them. Each one knew pretty well just the spot he was going to strike next morning, and if more than one had their eyes on the same spot, it became the property of the one who reached there first and made a “circle” by cutting around the field he wished to claim. There was sometimes (in dry years when hay was scarce) great rivalry, and we have seen camps all ready to start on the stroke of midnight, and actually starting to mark out circles in a thunderstorm. We have seen a circle entered by another than the one who made it, but it was in the case of someone who had tried to circle the whole prairie for himself, and in such case the unwritten law of the camp said that it served him right. There was rarely any trouble to speak of, and we look back to the camp on the prairie with its many tents like a white village as a most delightful and health-giving experience.

- Rev. R. G. MacBeth, Red River Settlers in Real Life

Marriages, were as a rule celebrated in the church, and all the guests drove there often to the accompaniment of shot-gun salutes of honor by the way. This drive to and fro was par excellence the time for displaying fast horses, whose decking in gay ribbons called “wedding favors,” took up more attention than the adornment of the person. The speediest horses were secured for such occasions. We have known men go long distances to secure some noted horse, and consternation reigned when it leaked out that some one had secured so and so’s “Charlie” or “Tom.” for the wedding. On the way home speeding could be indulged in to any extent, with one well-defined limitation, namely, that no one was to pass the bridal party on pain of social ostracism. On the Sabbath succeeding the wedding the “kirking” took place, the bridal party and “best young people” in all their wedding bravery of millinery driving together with their gaily decked horses to church and there occupying a special pew. When the groom brought his bride to his ancestral mansion, a “home wedding” was given with practically the same amount of social function as had attended the ceremony of the marriage. As a general thing the dowry was not large when the people were poor, but in addition to the outfitting such as the custom required a few choice cows were driven over to the bridegroom’s farm as a nucleus for future wealth in flocks and herds.

- The Rev.R. G. MacBeth, pp. 55-6

Another of the difficulties resulting from the now (fortunately) almost obsolete custom of “naming” was not only the duplicating but the quadruplicating of names in the one neighborhood. The people got over that part of the trouble by introducing the use of “nick-names,” derived either from personal characteristics or by prefixing or affixing some ancestral family name. This was well enough for the people themselves who knew locally “Black Sandy.” and “Red Sandy,” but since people at a distance did not know these fine shades of distinction, the primitive post-office or the mail-carrier confronted “confusion worse confounded” when a letter came addressed to a name owned by half a dozen different people in the parish. The difficulty was generally solved by some one of the name opening it, and if it was not for him he passed it on till the right party was reached.

- Rev. R. G. MacBeth, Red River Settlers in Real Life p. 59

MacBeth here touches on a Scottish custom that is still practiced in some families, but not nearly to the extent that it used to throughout Scotland and into Scottish colonies. The Scottish naming practice is something that genealogists know about and find a great aid to sorting out family trees. But as MacBeth mentions here, and particularly in an isolated colony like Red River, that boon can rapidly turn into confusion!

Many settlers had large families. If there were four sons in John McKay’s family, each of them married and having one son, and each of them following the Scottish naming practice, then right away we would have the original John, and at four other Johns. Scottish naming practice dictated that the eldest son be named after his paternal grandfather, the eldest daughter after her maternal grandmother, the second son after his maternal grandfather, the second daughter after her paternal grandmother….

A special dance known as the “Red River jig” we have never seen any one but a native of the country do to perfection. The music was always the violin played to the vigorous accompaniment of the foot, and we have known men carry with them an extra pair of moccasins, so that when one pair was worn out on the rough floor they might not be at a loss.

- Rev. R. G. MacBeth

The Red River Jig goes hand in hand with the fiddle music that is now so strongly associated with the Métis of Manitoba. Yet it was a combination of cultures at Red River that gave rise to the famous dance. One can hear the French Canadian overtones in the music as well as the Scottish. I’ve never seen anyone but a Métis dance it myself, yet I know it was a dance at which the Scottish settlers excelled.

At the 90th birthday celebrations of Eliza (Matheson) Lamb, she retreated to a room to chat quietly with her great-niece about the old days. Soon John McNab joined them.

“Is she telling you about the old days then?” he asked the young woman, knowing how much his old friend loved to do just that. “Did she tell you what a fine dancer she was? Eliza here was the best dancer in all Red River. She could dance the Red River Jig the whole night long with a teacup on her head and never spill a drop!”

(references: Rev. R.G. MacBeth. p. 54, Kathleen Campbell.)

I just recently finished reading this little gem of a book. I’ve had it tucked away on my bookshelf for years. About a year ago, a TLSARL friend sent me a URL that led me to a site where I could read it online if I cared to, and his thoughtfulness reminded me that mine was buried somewhere. I dug it out, but still didn’t read it for some time.

The Red River Settlers in Real Life is a valuable addition to any Red River Colony library. Although he tends to be a bit sentimental at times, and there is the odd historical error, the general insight the author gives readers into everyday life in the early days of the settlement is fascinating. I only wish he hadn’t put the writing down off as long as he did (read the introduction).

MacBeth covers everything from crops and social customs of the agricultural society at Red River, to the hunt, weddings and funerals and daily menus. Interesting anecdotes illustrate the facts, and for genealogists among readers, there is the odd mention of individual settlers! His coverage of religion at the Colony is far more sympathetic than that of Alexander Ross!

MacBeth’s book was published in 1897, and was long out of print until a print to order company began printing it again in 2007. It is not difficult to find a copy of the original edition for under $50, and if you want a copy for your library, that is what I would advise you to invest in. Then you can see the illustrations well. If you’d like to read it before you buy a copy, you can do so for free at ElectricScotland.

Despite the fact that their dogs were killing valuable livestock, I found no mention of owners being forced to kill the offending animals. The dogs were too valuable; without them it would be incredibly difficult to get meat back to the colony from the winter hunting grounds. The loss of a sheep was certainly felt by the community but, as long as they had dogs, they could still kill bison and get the meat (and hides) home!

On 11 June 1814, Archibald McDonald notes:

Some of the Company Serv’t Viz.- Donald McDermot, John MacMillan, Hugh Fraser & several others of my recruits complained of their treatment in the employ, & of being compelled to buy Dogs for the use of the Co-

showing us that dogs were not cheap. The complaints may have been made on principle, of course, but if the price of a dog was insignificant then the men might not have complained too loudly, especially since they would be getting good use of the dogs for their own purposes.

Miles Macdonell remarks on an incident in January of 1815 that gives us another insight into the value that was placed on dogs at the RRS:

Took down John O’Rourkes Complaint against Bautino & other freemen – who robbed him of a dog & assembled in a tumultuous manner with Guns & Knives to assault our people. A very serious affray must have taken place if O’Rourke had not prudently allowed Beautino to take the Dog until he could obtain legal redress.

The people of Red River obviously viewed the theft of a dog as a very serious offence!

And the complaint of Alexander Bannerman against Archibald McDonald, and his demand for pemmican against McDonald’s dog’s life, given the value of pemmican to the settlers at the time, shows us that the life of a dog was probably high enough that Bannerman thought McDonald would certainly make the exchange.

Another indicator comes from the contempt in a remark Archibald McDonald made in March 1815 about Miles Livingstone:

Two months ago with the greatest ado we got him to go out for meat for himself to the plains tho’ he had 3 good dogs at home starving for the want of meat & of course for the want of Labour.- After his arrival on or about the 23 of last month, I proposed to him to be off again, & look out for something for himself – rather than have his dogs idle but no the latter action was preferable. It is pretty clear from this man’s progress in attempting to live independent, that the sooner he is got quit of the better –

Rev. MacBeth also touches on how much people valued their dogs. A group in real danger of starvation takes great care to ensure that their dogs are fed. Here it is probably not  the monetary value of the dogs that they are thinking about, but the necessity of their excellent health to haul whatever meat is obtained back home. Without their dogs, the hunters’ loved ones would die.

(reference: pages 16949-50, 18223, 18275-6 of the Selkirk Papers, M186; Rev. R.G. MacBeth. p. 91.)

There were other purposes for dogs. In August of 1812, Miles Macdonell writes about Fort Alexander that, although it was on a river (the Winnipeg) key to commerce, the river “was a scarce place for provisions. The Canadians killed two dogs for their supper.”
The winter of 1825-6 was a bitter winter. The Bison disappeared, and travel across the massive drifts of snow was nearly impossible. Dogs became a part of the diet of the starving colonists.

But other entries indicate that perhaps there were those who also had developed a taste for dog meat:

[19 April 1813] D. McNaughton & another man came in from the plains left 10 men behind who are to come in immediately & thought the weather too bad now.- the wolves ate 6 cows that were staged which obliged them to return so soon.- those left behind Killed a dog to eat with a view of throwing an odium on the country – for at the time they had a goose & 4 Ducks.

The previously mentioned incident between Alexander Bannerman and Archibald McDonald indicates that the value placed on a good dog allowed some, perhaps, to use them as a means to blackmail of a sort. Bannerman may have been telling the truth about McDonald’s dog, but not unsurprisingly – especially given the tensions in the colony at the time – it could have been a desperate attempt to get some extra food on Bannerman’s part. McDonald seems to have had his doubts. It would be highly unlikely that a settler would leave his scant food ration out where a roaming dog could nab it.

Hargrave mentions another use dogs were put to, in this case, at Lower Fort Garry:

Sergeant Rickards, since his investment with the dignity of guardian of Fort Garry against the perils of thieves and fire, has practiced the most unremitted and persevering attention to duty. This consists in “coming on watch” at nightfall and marching through the Fort with his watch dog and firelock ostensibly throughout the night.

It was a good thing Rickards had the dog… the man had a predictable habit of falling asleep on the job!
Few mentions are made of dogs as pets. In the flood of 1826, “[t]he ice broke up and the current increasing dashed this against the buildings, which at length gave way and all went floating down across the points–ice, log houses with dogs and cats frantic on their roofs.” These animals may have been house pets or at least favourites among the working dogs that were allowed to live with the family. They might also simply have been swimming and found a house onto which they could climb.

The Rev. R. G. MacBeth paints a cozy scene that suggests a fonder relationship than earlier accounts portray:

A small party of them [settlers] who had left their families with scanty supply of food, and had gone out on a winter buffalo hunt, were camping one Saturday night along the Pembina Mountains. They had their poor meal of what they brought with them; and gave all they could to their faithful train dogs. Then before retiring to rest under the lee of their toboggans, with the dogs crouched around them in the snow, they held a prayer-meeting to ask Him for food who fed Israel with manna.

But even these dogs worked for their living. Some people must have had a pet dog that doubled as family watchdog. A dog that could also work for its living, however, made far more sense for the times.

(reference: pages 16737, 16817, 18275-6 of the Selkirk Papers, M186; Hargrave page 471; George Bryce. Romance of the Selkirk Settlement Chapter XV; Rev. R.G. MacBeth. The Selkirk Settlers in Real Life. 1897. p. 91.)