A history of Pickford Area Pioneer Families Daniel Morrison

Printed in the Evening News In 1952

The late Barney Nettleton, who must have been one of Pickford Township's more colorful characters, once "filled" his deer license by staging a hand-to-hand battle with the buck. The battle, lasting for nearly an hour, ended only when the buck was killed by a bullet from another hunter's rifle.

Although Nettleton's Herculean struggle took place away back in November 1907, the details were duly recorded by the Pickford Clarion, thus preserving them for future generations. The Pickford Clarion, long out of business, was a weekly newspaper established in Pickford in 1905 by E. E. Baldwin, who still is in the printing business in Sault Ste. Marie.

Mr. Baldwin himself wrote the story of the battle, and played it prominently on the Clarion's front page. It seems that Mr. Nettleton, who then was township highway commissioner, fared forth to get this buck, and spotted a nice 200-pounder not far from the town limits.

Nettleton fired once, but his shot was wide of the mark. Instead of dashing off into the brush, as almost any well-behaved deer would do, Barney's would-be target took one long look at Nettleton - as if sizing up his prowess, then closed to do battle. Only then did Barney observe that the buck was a freak. One of the deer's forelegs was shorter than the other. He held it close to his body as he hobbled along on three legs.

Nettleton, fascinated by this strange sight, permitted the cripple to advance within a few feet of him before lifting his rifle to fire again. But this time it was no-go; the gun jammed, leaving Nettleton at the mercy of the enraged buck.

The deer's affliction must have affected his temperament. He was 300 pounds of fighting futy - - and at the moment that fury was unleashed against the gun-toting man in front of him! He lowered his head, and charged in!

Barney sidestepped that charge with all the dexterity of a picador. But the buck - - three legs or not - - wheeled suddenly around and charged again. This time Nettleton side-stepped in time to bring his rifle down on the buck's nose. He said later he could almost feel the crunch of bone as his heavy rifle stock came down on the buck's snout.

Nettleton had drawn the first blood, but his adversary was far from whipped. Time aftet time, he charged into the fray, took a blow br two in passing, only to wheel around, and come in for more. During the course of those charges, he absorbed several more blows on his already tender and bleeding nose. He lost a part of one antler, then about two charges later, lost a part of the other.

By using his rifle as a war-club, Barney was doing all right for himself, but that sort of thing just couldn't go on indefinitely. How long could a buck deer take this kind of punishment before crylng, "Uncle"? Barney Nettleton never did learn the answer to that one. A few charges later, he swung viciously at the buck's head, missed, and brought the rifle down on the deer's backbone. The rifle broke - and fell from his hands!

From that moment on, it was a case of men against deer, with no holds barred. The buck, groggy and apparently tiring, closed in once more, and Barney grabbed the stump of his antlers. This bit of strategy, designed to prevent goring, left little or no defense against flailing forelegs. So Nettleton was kicked in the chest, the buck's sharp hooves leaving a gory, ten-inch opening!

"At one time," reported Mr. Baldwin, "Mr. Nettleton actually was under the buck, and tried to cut the animal's throat with his teeth." Fortunately for Barney, reinforcements arrived in the person of John Hughes, another deer hunter. Hughes shot the battling buck - thus being credited with an "assist" in the play.

Editor Baldwin's thrilling report on the encounter failed to state who got the venison. There's a possibility that Mr. Nettleton, who had tried to eat it "on the hoof" found it too tough and relinquished it to Mr. Hughes. For information on that technical problem, we refer you to Mr. Baldwin.

William and Colbourn Emerson were among early settlers, southwest of Pickford. "Billy" never married and Colbourn was a widower. They came from Belleville, Ontario, and homesteaded two miles south and four and one-half miles west on the south side of the section road. They were across from the Hugh Leach farm. Later they moved two and one-half miles east. Billy became seriously ill. He had no relatives. Mr. and Mrs. Beacom took him into their home and cared for him until his death there.

William Young, a Canadian, settled one mile south and two miles west of Pickford. He purchased 80 acres of bush land from the D. M. and M. Railroad Company on April 15, 1901. (North side of road, across from William Blair farm.) He was a very hard-working man, working in the lumber camps in the winter and clearing his farm in the summer. He had a team of oxen and cleared his entire 80 himself. (Edna and Kenneth Harrison purchased this farm at Mr. Young's death and later sold it to Phyllis and Clarence Beacom.)

William Young never married. He died the summer of 1937 and was buried in Bethel cemetery.

Samuel Nettleton (Sam) was the first mail carrier from Pickford to Cedarville and Hessel. In 1891, a mere lad of 12 years, he rode horseback in the summer, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. His parents worried a great deal because there was only a trail through the woods for him to follow and they feared a tree might blow on him and the settlers were fat apart. The road (Meridian) was not entirely cut out. When he reached the little lake north of Cedarville, he detoured one-half mile east and went around this lake, then on to Cedarville where he left mail and picked up any mail that went to Hessel. He returned north until he reached this little lake, then rode westerly to the Law homestead (now the Hessel airport). On to Hessel, back the same route to Cedarville, Pickford, and home. In the winter months he was able to use a horse and cutter. He traveled the same road to Cedarville as in summer, as there was no road across the little lake and the ice was unsafe. He didn't retrack himself, but left from Patrick's Landing and drove on the ice (through what is now called Club Channel) around to Hessel Bay. Returned by the same route. He carried mail on this trail for two years and received $25 a month.

Robert Eagleson was an early settler in the Blair settlement. He located on a farm one mile south, three miles west, and one-half mile south, just over the Munuscong River on the west side of the road.

Mrs. William (Annie Blair) Wise sent two of her children, Frederick and Nellie, with a baking of bread to his cabin. The children found the house empty, a pot of peas on the stove, but no fire. They thought the fire had been out for some time, so they returned to tell their father. Mr. Wise looked for Bob, but finding no axe he thought he might be in his woods where he was clearing land. When found, he was dead. Mr. Wise got his team and dray and took the body to the Wise farm, (he placed it on a plank and on a wood pile) while he went to tell Mr. and Mrs. Henry Miller. She was a sister of the deceased. Mr. Wise made the casket that Mr. Eagleson was buried in. He made a number of caskets in the first years they lived in that area.

Just a few lines of a little remembrance of the mothers who came to Mackinac and Chippewa counties in the early days. They lived in log cabins, they hunted their cows through the woods among the wild stock, churned their butter, walked and carried it through mud, marshes, and swamps, to the little stores of surrounding communities and traded their butter for groceries as a maintenance for their little families at home. They were the salt of the earth, gone but not forgotten, and only remembered by what they have done.

Oh, the spring that bubbles yonder near the orchard on the hill, With its old moss-coveted bucket which I once would want to fill. In the pasture in the valley with my brother at my side We would always drive old Brindle to the barn at eventide. Oh, the blessed days of childhood that I spent in childish glee. And the prayer is always with us that we learned at Mother's knee. I would ramble with my brother with his hand held close to mine, Down the path to that old cabin in the shadow of the pine. Oh, that little old log cabin how it fills our hearts with joy, At the garden with the roses where we played when but a boy. We could see the shining raindrops on the fairer jessamine, We could hear our mother calling, "Boys, come home, it's supper time." Oh, the shade tree standing yonder in the orchard on the hill, In the pathway leading homeward to the cabin calm and still. Now that Mother's voice is silent we can hear the church bells chime And the echo down the valley, "Boys, come home; it's supper time." But that homestead is forsaken, and the years from us have flown, But the cabin yet is standing with mosses overgrown. When I cross the Jordan River to that blessed land sublime, Then we'll hear our Mother calling, "Boys, come home, it's supper time." In that lane beyond the river free from sorrow and all care, We can see our angel mothers, they are waiting for us there. When they all look down upon us, through those shining stars above, It's a jewel sent from heaven, and they call it Mother's love. By Rob Nettleton

Whitewash was the usual interior house paint in the early days. When the first settlers came here it, wasn't too plentiful or easily purchased. Some women made their paint and came up with a very pretty effect. Mrs. George Leach (Ann) was one of these industrious mothers when housecleaning time came along. She used red clay mixed with buttermilk to the desired consistency which gave a pretty pink color and was a change from white. Sometimes her ceilings were painted and the walls papered. Her secret got out one day when two neighbor girls called on her. Her cat came meowing about her feet and she laughing exclaimed, "Ur! I know what you are wanting, to lick my boots and have that drop of paint." She then told the girls what she was using.

Today it is trick or treat, but in the late 1800's it was just trick. Bill Young purchased himself a new range, and when he tried it out the first time or two he was quite pleased with its performance. October 31 came and some young culprits (neighbors, maybe?) were out for some fun. Bill had some pea straw and somehow it appealed to these boys - - they packed Bill's stovepipe full (his shanty had no chimney). The next morning smoke came from everywhere on end around the stove and Bill tried everything to no avail, until he had to go outside or smother. He told the neighbors, "That is some company, put out a stove, but no instructions!"

A storm with high winds was felt in Blairville in the early 1900's. The roof was lifted off Bill Young's shanty and carried some distance away. A neighbor seeing this, hurried over to see if Bill or his dog had met any harm and looking through the door, queried, "Bill, where's your dog?" Bill (who had difficulty hearing a great part of his life), gesturing with his head and hand, replied, "Out through the field blew to pieces."

Mrs. William Wise arrived in Blairville in 1880 and never saw another woman until Mr. and Mrs. Richard Rye came about.

In the pioneer days church and Sunday School in the Blairville area were held in the homes. Annie Miller (later Mrs. Maltas) was the first Sunday School Superintendent. She was very highly thought of and traveled by horseback to start churches and Sunday schools in the various communities.

To travel from the William Wise farm to the William Butledge farm, it was necessary to walk a log that crossed the Munuscong River. Mr. Wise was the first Supervisor of Marquette Township and walked to St. Ignace every spring with the tax roll.

There were no funeral homes nor undertakers in the early days. Margaret Beacom (Mrs. Robert Beacom) prepared many bodies for burial. She performed doctors' duties also. She served as midwife many times and many of those babies are still residing in and near Pickford. Called because of a serious illness, perhaps of a child, she would stay a week or longer, if necessary, until the person was well on the road to recovery. She not only aided in the Blair settlement, but went to homes in the outlying areas, walking long distances or riding with horse and buggy or horse and cutter any hour of the day or night when she was needed. In cases of pneumonia, the patient was kept in an unheated room with the windows open, and she and others caring for the patient wore fur coats to keep warm.