The Vauxhall farm was born in the early 1920s when my folks moved from the unirrigated Saskatchewan homestead to irrigated land seven miles from Vauxhall near the Bow River after several drought induced crop failures. I don’t know what greeted them, bald prairie or what. My appearance was a decade away. The farm was around 1500 acres, all under irrigation. I have no idea what or how much stuff they brought with them. A very practical farm configuration was developed The fields were fenced and a farm yard plan devised. It consisted of a large barn yard and a secondary smaller yard separated from the barnyard by a double row of quick growing caragana hedges from the farm house. Dad planted almost 1 km of popular trees along the entry road to the farm and around the house yard, probably as wind breaks. I used to play among them pretending to be in the forrest. He also planted rows of black and red currants.
I don’t know the sequence of the construction of buildings. Most were there when I arrived. I suppose the comfortable farm house- maybe 1500 square feet- was certainly first and the big barn and granary early on. At some point other outbuildings appeared such as a machine shop, chicken house, garage. The pig house was the last when I was about age eight. My dad had an elderly carpenter named Harvey do most of the construction. He had ill fitting false teeth with he rattled and chewed and suddenly protrude out between his lips. I used to watch him waiting for this performance.
I gather that they had a series of successful irrigated crops in the 1920s leading up to the Great Depression. A population of farm animals appeared. They had a large herd of Hereford cattle and were proud of their championship bull "Prince Domino the Third" or something. At various times there were pigs, sheep and of course lots of chickens and turkeys. Grains and hay were grown to feed the animals. There were no veterinary services so dad had to deal with animal health problems such as an obstructed cow labour or a barbed wire cut on a hoof. Treatment of the animals was compassionate to a point but would be considered and sometimes brutal by today’s standards. The farm “fiddleback” brand similar to a figure of eight; was applied with a glowing hot branding iron to the calves rump - Ouch!! Worse was castration of bull calves with a huge pair of long handled tongs. Pigs and sheep were done with a knife. Dehorning of cattle was done with a short thick saw which produced a jet of blood shooting many feet. I remember the blood streaks on the corral fences.
Dad employed several full hired men who ploughed, dug, chopped and did whatever was needed. Preparation for harvest was very busy and the farm complement of men would increase to 5 or 6. Two machines were used. A binder - horse drawn - cut the ripe grain and automatically bound it into sheaves called “stooks." Half dozen of the sheaves would be leaned together by hand into a tripod to dry. When ready they would be collected on to a large horse drawn wagon - a hay rack- and off loaded by hand into a threshing machine belt run from a small engine. A jet of grain the shot out down a pipe into a truck for transport to a storage granary. Exhausting work. They were well fed. I suppose they would burn thousands of calories per dawn to dusk of heavy labour. Later a sophisticated self propelled harvesting machine called combine, run by one or two men, appeared which cut and processed the grain in one operation. This was much more efficient and eliminated the old labour intensive harvesting procedure.
My mother would have kitchen help as these men had enormous appetites. She sometimes would cook over 100 large pancakes, pounds of bacon, dozens of soft boiled eggs washed down with gallons of strong coffee. I watched Ed the huge Swede pile a dozen pancakes on his plate, put a large rashers of bacon between each one, then crack a half dozen soft boiled eggs on top. Over the works he would pour a big glug of syrup. Down the hatch. And then..... he would do it again!! She baked bread almost every day, twelve loaves at a time and dozens of delicious baking powder biscuits buttered with home made strawberry jam which were taken to the men in the fields mid morning and mid afternoon for a snack with a tank of hot coffee.
As the depression deepened the roads, rails, waterways filled up with men shifting around the country looking for work. “Riding the rails” was popular. In our area some of these men would get off one line near Brooks and walk the twenty miles or so to Vauxhall where they could bum another ride on the other line and end up at the Coast in the hope of employment in a logging camp or maybe a cannery. At least the weather would not be as cold. We often saw a disheveled man shuffling down our road and he would come in for a hand out. They all got a meal and a bed in the bunk house for the night but had to move on in the morning with a lunch. Terrible times that didn’t really let up until the war loomed and and more jobs opened up. Terrible economic times that didn’t really let up until the war loomed and and more jobs opened up. Markets appeared for farm produce of all kinds.
In the depths of the depression my dad could hardly sell anything. My mother recounted that he would take a load of the best number one Marquis wheat into the over loaded grain elevator in Vauxhall and bring it home again unsold. As war approached there was no problem selling all the farm products.
Personally I was very little affected by all the goings on. Well fed, healthy and comfortable. One of my few personal crises was in 1939 as war started. At the Vauxhall school we had a favourite teacher, Miss S, who was a German national. One day at lunchtime a Mountie appeared and took her away. Apparently all German and Italian nationals were interned during the duration of the war. I don’t know if this was true. We never saw or heard about her again.