The return to nature through improved
forest management has renewed interest in the original workhorse of the woods. Log
hauling by horse has been practised for hundreds of years. Their giant presence
and muffled hoof beats through dense forestation, is a welcome sight once again.
These horses know the meaning of tolerance, fortitude and obedience. It is dangerous and calculating hard work.
Tree Roots of the Past
During the late 1800’s and the beginning
of the 20th century, the heavy horse in the logging camps and on the
slick stone riverbeds, was considered king of the timberlands. A team of draft
once hauled a titanic load of 306 logs on a skid weighing 30 tons. Once the
load was started, the team dug deep and low and pushed into their collars along
a polished road of glare ice. Although not the norm, the sure power of these
great beasts, dwarfed only by the enormous mountain of logs, was recorded and
captured on celluloid that day at a lumber camp in Webbwood, Ontario in the
winter of 1916.
Not only were draft horses required to
haul logs from the dense brush, others were asked to swim and wade through
rivers and fast flowing streams. Behind the common sight of a trio of draft in
harness, lay a seventy-foot scow loaded with five to seven tons of timber. Horses
selected for this dangerous job were chosen for their courage and swimming
ability. Drownings were not uncommon if the horse was not suitable or up to the
challenge. Vigorous training at a young age made the difference for survival of
the water log horse.
The average logging camp of the past
meant portaging supplies over very rough and difficult terrain. A typical camp
of 100 men and 20 horses would consume 1,700 pounds of food and fodder every
single day. The hard work meant large appetites for both man and beast alike.
The Modern Day Teamster
Not much has changed over the years for the draft horse in the woods. Today, only 100 or so loggers practise these logging techniques across the vast Canadian wilderness. One of these rare breeds of naturalist loggers is Cec Andrus who works in harmony with his Belgium-cross Gelding, Jack. He and his seven year old partner are employed twelve months of the year. It’s a solitary life in the bush that both seem to enjoy. Cec, a transplanted Nova Scotian, speaks with ease in the friendly down-home persona of “the coaster”, as he gives a little history lesson on the region he is skidding logs out of.
In one Haliburton region of northern
Ontario, known as Old Kenesis Lake Saw Mill, 150,000,000 boards were taken from
that forest over a period of 25 years. (A board measures 1’Wx1’Lx1”
thick.) That translates into an enormous
amount of timber for a relatively small mill. With the advent of larger mills
and modern heavy equipment in the 1970s, cuttings of the forests were well in
excess of 50 million feet annually. Today, better forest management is aimed at
controlling some of the past systematic raping of forest. Since some variety of
hardwood trees have a 75-year growing rate to maturity, replenishing the forest
may take a whole generation to accomplish.
Selective Harvesting
Prior to hauling timber from the bush,
determining the size of the area for prospective culling is undertaken using a
prism or measuring tool. With the help of the prism, an area is mapped out and
the trees for cutting are marked with fluorescent paint. Old, dying and
diseased trees are chosen first, followed by a select group of more healthy and
mature trees. The horse and teamster can manage terminally cankerous or expired
trees that are not accessible with modern logging equipment from soft
shorelines and frozen lake frontage, both economically and skilfully. By
limiting the harvest of these trees, it aids in the prevention of soil erosion,
while allowing for more natural light to filter into the forest seedbeds,
creating room for future trees to grow.
Unlike the destructive forces brought on
by modern automated skidders and heavy logging equipment, the horse and
teamster minimize the disturbance to the forest. The sacrificial scarring of
healthy trees left in the wake of machinery activity is eliminated. Two years
after a horse has logged an area, there is virtually no evidence of its
presence. The forestlands remain in tact and are rejuvenated with new growth.
Hazards of the Forest
With the last fitting of the trace to
the stout whiffletree, Cec readies his hardhat and ear protectors for the trip
into the forest. The work harness is not fancy. It is durable and simple with
the open bridle fitted over the halter, as a loose ring snaffle hangs in Jack’s
mouth awaiting direction. Jack is turned towards the crude path leading to the
cutting site as the chainsaw swings loosely from the metal hames that guide the
lines on his work collar.
Jack steps carefully over the protruding
rock and underbrush slow and methodical as he makes his way. He lowers his
massive head as he travels under an overhanging limb. Cec keeps a constant
vigil surveying the woods for “silent killers”. This is the term given to
broken branches that hang perilously from treetops during cutting. Serious
injury to horse and handler, even death, awaits them with these dismembered
tree limbs. The slight shake of a tree or sudden gust of wind can dislodge
these branches from their resting place, sending them hurling to the ground,
sometimes hitting their target with deadly accuracy.
Jack scrapes his hind cannon bone on a
sharp twig that snaps in protest under his hoof. Unperturbed by the sudden
sting and superficial scrape to his leg, Jack pushes deeper into the forest and
ever-advancing brush.
Beautiful landscapes, but at times
treacherous, Jack has to manoeuvre the steep inclines making switchbacks to
accomplish the laborious journey as he works towards the pinnacle of the hill
moving from side to side. Precise, defining steps, Jack drags the whiffletree
as it reluctantly snags its way along. Loose rock falls away beneath his flat
wide hooves. The toe grabs and heel calks dig deep into the soil to give Jack
added stability. He reaches the clearing, barely breaking a sweat. The huge
hulk of his body suffers from the endless onslaught of deer flies and
mosquitoes, leaving huge quarter-size welts along his neck and shoulders. Unlike
the draft horses used in farming, the logging horse is spared from the
procedure of tail docking (removing the tail). Here in the wild country, the
horse needs every measure of protection against the elements. Its fly swatting
tail, long flowing mane and nose-touching forelock are a necessity.
In early spring, black flies tore
relentlessly at his flesh during the long days in the bush. Sprays and
repellents provided little protection in the bug battle zone of the woods. Jack
shakes his enormous head in defiance. Still he stands patiently waiting to begin
his daily task.
The roar and hum of the chainsaw breaks
the silence of the forest as the tree is felled and prepared for hauling as the
last wrap of the chain is fitted to the log. After eight hours of hard work
with a dozen trees hauled from the thick underbrush, it is time to call it a
day.
The horses are corralled in a makeshift
paddock, protected by the resonating tick of a portable shock box that pulses
an electrical charge on the string of wire surrounding the horses. It is their
only protection against the stalking night predators of bear, wolf and coyote
packs, mountain lion, and lynx. Still the horses herd together and continue to
feed contently into the restful night. The reassuring “tick – tick” from the
box stands guard to sting any uninvited guests.
The medicinal smell of liniment
permeates the sharp crisp air. Fuelling their depleted energy reserves, the
horse drops his head into his large filled grain bucket. Two gallons of a
molasses oat and corn ration, ten gallons of clear spring water and a round
bale of sweet hay, slowly restore the horses’ vigour. The soft chomping sound
of the horse at rest is a welcoming sound as dusk approaches and the sun fades
into darkness.
Horse logging in winter carries an added
burden of risk with the slippery footing and hidden rocks to navigate. Soft
cavernous snow now strains every sinew and fibre of muscle as the teamster and
his horse are hampered and delayed with the slow progress.
The teamster must be cautious when it
pioneers an uncharted slope. It is here that the horse is tested for obedience
and strength. The horse must be focused on the voice commands it is given. “Whoa”
is perhaps the single most important word the horse must respond to in its
limited dictionary of words it has come to know. The teamster must watch with
intensity, every step that horse takes as a log weighing hundreds of pounds
slides along. One misstep in judgment on the part of the teamster could spell
disaster and serious injury.
When harvesting hardwoods, such as oak,
maple and hemlock from the forest, a team of horses is most often required. This
timber is extremely heavy and difficult to haul. Matching a team of horses that
will work in unison is essential.
The Partnership
Life as a logger brings one back to the roots of this land. The precious eco system we have all come to enjoy, can only be enhanced and preserved by the use of the horse. The masterful teamster is one of compassion for his horse. He harbours a great passion for the stewardship of the forest. The teamster is a conservationist, naturalist and loyal partner with his horse. It is a life that is filled with the simple pleasures and beauty of the land that is shared equally with the horse. We owe a debt of gratitude to these heavy haulers that guard and manage our timberlands for generations to come.
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