Every November our family, like many others, gathers
together at the hunting camp. We come from near and far and it becomes for all
intents and purposes a family reunion. The ritual of hunting goes way back. It
is an ancient activity in preparation for the oncoming winter. This tradition
is continued in our community today. The student population is decimated at the
local schools for the first week of hunting season and the grocery stores are
filled with blaze orange hunters picking up last minute items for their camps’
meals throughout the 2 weeks. The population in the area swells as Hunters from
all over return to their particular camps. Barry’s Bay does a brisk business.
During hunting season pray your furnace and appliances don’t quit, your car
doesn’t need a mechanic and your water pipes don’t burst because most of the
service men are in their camps and beyond the reaches of technology.
The O’Briens, Dwyers, Ryans, Sullivans, and the
Madigans have hunted near the Addington road since before the turn of the
century, in 1900. Many settlers travelled to this area from Kingston by way of
the Addington road. The road can still be seen today if you know the woods and
have a sharp eye. Wooden slats that prevented the wagon wheels from getting
stuck in the swampy soil mark out the path. Although the Addington road has
blended into the forest like a footprint in the grass, its trail still stands
as a relic of our past.
During the mid to late 1940’s John T Drohan
acquired the timber rights to the region. A lumber camp was built that included
a wood shed, blacksmith shop, horse stables, cookery and sleep cabin with an
office. Lumber camp life in the winter months was close quarters and bunk beds.
The head cook was an esteemed position because good food was essential fuel for
these men working so hard in the bush. Every day a truck with a closed- in box,
called the caboose, was used to transport them to and from the work sites. Among those men were many of the
ancestors of local communities, including my great grandfather James P.
Madigan.
John T Drohan’s lumber camp in the
1940’s early 1950’s
In the early 1950’s times were changing. Improved roads into the bush
and better vehicles made lumber camps obsolete. The ministry of natural
resources was poised to dismantle all of the buildings on the site of the old
lumber camp. James P and two other men made a trip to the local MNR office and
convinced them to leave the lumber office standing for use as a hunting camp. In
1956 James P was issued the first license to lease the land for the purpose of
the hunt camp. As the family grew and grandchildren (now great-grandchildren) wanted
to join the hunt the addition of the sleeper was added to the main office with
the ministry’s approval.
James P in the hunting camp with his
sons and grandchildren
The nature of the Hunting Camp is difficult to put into words. It’s
Family, Friendship, Music, Dancing, stories, and jokes. In my mind the hunting
camp will always be a warm, safe place filled with support and kindness.
Whether as a sanctuary during a cold day of ice fishing or a gathering place
during the warmer months the hunting camp is always there.
On a typical November evening in the hunting camp fiddle music and laughter
fills the air. Conversation about the day occurs over the crackling warmth of
the campfire. Smoke drifts from the woodstove’s chimney into an inky sky filled
with stars. Inside there are people everywhere catching up or singing along to
familiar tunes. A stepdancer taps out a reel played by guitars, fiddles,
keyboards and harmonicas alike. A smile is on everyone’s face. They are home.
Fiddling at the Camp
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