Codger_64
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- Oct 8, 2004
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I am supposing that more Canadians than Americans are familiar with the two terms in this title, since both originated among the French Canadian Voyagers, Northwest Company trappers, the tradesmen and engagees who plied Northern waters ferrying supplies to outlying forts and posts. Quite literally, “mangeures de lard” was an insult meaning “pork eater”, refering to newcomers who were so inexperienced as to have to depend upon a supply of pork and lard carried from the settlements to sustain them, rather than wild game and other foods gleaned from the wild. The term “hivernant” referred to a person with some experience who had “wintered over” in the wilds.
Today we might say “city slickers” and “country boys” in the same vein. I first ran across these, then odd, terms when I became interested in muzzle loading and “mountain men” back last century. Modern interest in muzzle loading was in it’s infancy at the time, and the died-in-the-wool enthusiasts were drawn together in clubs and informal gatherings, the rendevous. Re-enacting a particular period in the past was attractive not only in seeing and using our firearms in context, but in understanding the practices and equipment of these romantic heroes who braved nature and foes. It helped us learn what made them venture off into the unknown, risking life and limb at what seemed to be a fool’s chance at easily won riches in the then-booming fur trade.
The most hardcore among us shunned modern manufactured goods in our portrayals, adding a bit at a time to our packs and possibles bags more authentic items from the time period. Even our spoken language was an immitation of what we thought those original pioneers would sound like. A newcomer to the group was a “pork eater”. A veteran reenactor was a “hivernant”.
As the portrayals progressed, each of us would choose an individual character, fictitious or historical to portray. Of course, many of them were boisterous and outrageous in their portrayals, but then so were those original “graduates of the Rocky Mountain School”, as the mountain men were sometimes called. Nightly campfires produced some great story tellers carrying on the traditions of Hugh Glass, Fitzpatrick, the Bent brothers, and others of the bygone era. Trees made of stone, a mountain that you could see through, a place where boiling water poured from the ground and shot high in the sky, surely the devil himself must inhabit the sulphurous place. While most of these accounts were already known to us from reading historical records, they were always well embellished and brought to life by the talented story tellers.
Daytime activities consisted of impromptu “classes” where ever a small crowd gathered around a trader or tradesman. Buckskin would be scraped and brain tanned, smoked the old way, and you could order a new set of “skins” or “mocs”. And as always, there were the shooting and throwing contests. Not everyone entered these, but it was as much fun to watch the antics of the participants. In spite of what you may hear about the notorious inaccuracy of muzzle loading rifles, and especially fusils, or smoothbore muskets, these guys performed some amazing feats, proving, to my satisfaction anyway, that not all of the stories handed down were fiction.
Passing along lessons learned was another reason for the gatherings. Teach someone to throw a knife or a hawk accurately every time. See a different way to start a fire. How do you reload a long rifle and fire it twelve times while running full speed through the woods dodging a pursuing enemy? Can you set a beaver trap? Tie a pack on a horse or pack mule? Why would it be needful to add feathers to a fur hat? Why are you roasting your fish in mud?
As you might gather by now, we learned much more than just how to shoot a muzzle loading rifle. We also learned a lot about survival, moving from mangeures de lard to hivernant.
What does this rambling story have to do with this Wilderness and Survival Skills forum? I posted it because I see a lot of impatience among some newer hivernants here toward the pork eaters. While it may seem funny to make fun of them, it is not. Everyone learns according to their own interests and opportunities. Some are of a modern bent, and never will try the primitive skills many of us practice and preach. Some of us are dogs too old to set in our ways to try the new tricks. That makes none of us good or bad. Just different.
Watch yer topknot and keep yer powder dry!:thumbup:
Codger
Today we might say “city slickers” and “country boys” in the same vein. I first ran across these, then odd, terms when I became interested in muzzle loading and “mountain men” back last century. Modern interest in muzzle loading was in it’s infancy at the time, and the died-in-the-wool enthusiasts were drawn together in clubs and informal gatherings, the rendevous. Re-enacting a particular period in the past was attractive not only in seeing and using our firearms in context, but in understanding the practices and equipment of these romantic heroes who braved nature and foes. It helped us learn what made them venture off into the unknown, risking life and limb at what seemed to be a fool’s chance at easily won riches in the then-booming fur trade.
The most hardcore among us shunned modern manufactured goods in our portrayals, adding a bit at a time to our packs and possibles bags more authentic items from the time period. Even our spoken language was an immitation of what we thought those original pioneers would sound like. A newcomer to the group was a “pork eater”. A veteran reenactor was a “hivernant”.
As the portrayals progressed, each of us would choose an individual character, fictitious or historical to portray. Of course, many of them were boisterous and outrageous in their portrayals, but then so were those original “graduates of the Rocky Mountain School”, as the mountain men were sometimes called. Nightly campfires produced some great story tellers carrying on the traditions of Hugh Glass, Fitzpatrick, the Bent brothers, and others of the bygone era. Trees made of stone, a mountain that you could see through, a place where boiling water poured from the ground and shot high in the sky, surely the devil himself must inhabit the sulphurous place. While most of these accounts were already known to us from reading historical records, they were always well embellished and brought to life by the talented story tellers.
Daytime activities consisted of impromptu “classes” where ever a small crowd gathered around a trader or tradesman. Buckskin would be scraped and brain tanned, smoked the old way, and you could order a new set of “skins” or “mocs”. And as always, there were the shooting and throwing contests. Not everyone entered these, but it was as much fun to watch the antics of the participants. In spite of what you may hear about the notorious inaccuracy of muzzle loading rifles, and especially fusils, or smoothbore muskets, these guys performed some amazing feats, proving, to my satisfaction anyway, that not all of the stories handed down were fiction.
Passing along lessons learned was another reason for the gatherings. Teach someone to throw a knife or a hawk accurately every time. See a different way to start a fire. How do you reload a long rifle and fire it twelve times while running full speed through the woods dodging a pursuing enemy? Can you set a beaver trap? Tie a pack on a horse or pack mule? Why would it be needful to add feathers to a fur hat? Why are you roasting your fish in mud?
As you might gather by now, we learned much more than just how to shoot a muzzle loading rifle. We also learned a lot about survival, moving from mangeures de lard to hivernant.
What does this rambling story have to do with this Wilderness and Survival Skills forum? I posted it because I see a lot of impatience among some newer hivernants here toward the pork eaters. While it may seem funny to make fun of them, it is not. Everyone learns according to their own interests and opportunities. Some are of a modern bent, and never will try the primitive skills many of us practice and preach. Some of us are dogs too old to set in our ways to try the new tricks. That makes none of us good or bad. Just different.
Watch yer topknot and keep yer powder dry!:thumbup:
Codger
