Piapot and Other Great Horsemen

The Rhyming Horseman of the Qu'Appelle
Copyright 1978 by Grant MacEwan.
219 pages.

Stanley loved good horses-any horses-but his secret yearning, slightly rebellious, was to sit in a saddle and gallop away into unexplored countryside. That could never happen at his city home. Later, when he tried to account for this desire, he recalled, "When I was a little shaver, we children spent our summers at an out-of-the-way place called Sutton-on-Sea at the east coast of England, where the grass of the sandhills kept up an endless whisper, swayed by the winds that brought the exciting tang of the sea to sun-burnt nostrils. About seven o'clock every morning, each village pump on the street below my window would sound its clink-clonk, and like a flash I was out of bed and kneeling by the open window to watch a string of half a dozen ponies being watered. In an hour or two they would be saddled on the wave-lapped sands of the bay, ready to give the holiday-makers a ride from breakwater to breakwater, about 200 yards, at a tuppence a trip. The beautiful carriage horses at home never thrilled me as those dancing little saddle horses thrilled me. Where I had admired in some awe, I now felt a strange, excited love. I would cheerfully have given the stable full of carriage horses for just one of these sand ponies with a saddle."

The Hackneys were beautiful and all the Harrisons were proud of them, but to the two sons, at least, a carriage house with no saddle horses was about as appealing as a rowboat without oars. That dissatisfaction had something to do with Stanley and Roland's decision to break with the familiar English lifestyle and go to the colonies to make a fortune. That done, they would return home to raise horses, choosing the breeds for themselves.

In 1902, the wild dream was being realized. Here they were, two young English gentlemen, looking down over the Qu'Appelle Valley. Close at hand was the Fort, where Indian people from nearby reserves often outnumbered those of European nationalities on the streets, and herds of cattle and horses were frequently driven through the center of town, on their way to the railway at Qu'Appelle Station.

It was spring and the countryside was captivating. In later years Stanley liked to recall that season of enchantment. "I have not forgotten lying asprawl on the prairies, smelling its rich earth and roots, feeling the ageless song of the wind in the grass and listening entranced as orioles and robins blew fluty calls to each other among the bluffs. I seemed to fade into the land itself and became one with its simple wonder. I knew a happiness that choked me. Where, I wondered, did it come from, that overwhelming sense of sadness and exaltation? Many a trail in many a land have I known since then, but nothing ever touched me so poignantly."

Perhaps it was the memory of that exhilaration which later inspired him to write a poem called "Spring":

Come leap to the saddle, the prairie awakes,
And a fresh free wind is blowing!
We'll gallop the lawns of the poplar brakes,
Beyond the barbed wires and the willow stakes,
Where the riotous creeks are flowing.

Oh, hark to the music of eager hooves,
And whoop with the joy of living!
Feel the heart's blood leap to the youth it proves,
Feel the sweep of power as the swift limb moves,
Drink the wine of the chinook's giving.

Oh the creak of the saddle and tinkle of spurs,
And the smell of a mane wild flinging!
The waxwing calls from the pungent firs,
While the woodland grouse from his drumming whirrs,
And the forest's wild deeps are ringing.

'Tis spring come at last to her lost domains,
(Ah, the long white winter's yearning!)
She is come with her promise of sun and rains,
With a myriad balms for our winter pains -
Thank God for her sweet returning.

The Harrisons lost no time in searching for employment but were obliged to accept the truth of the report that young Englishmen were not popular with Canadian employers. They couldn't help overhearing the mutterings of a few local residents - "Bloody Englishmen."

Valley farmers wanted and needed hired help, but they did not seem to want Stanley and Roland Harrison, not at first anyway. But the outlook changed when the two newcomers were approached by Daniel Hogarth McDonald, member of the Legislative Assembly in the North West Territories and owner of the biggest farming operation in the area. He offered ten dollars a month to Roland and eight to Stanley, who was younger, with board furnished, of course.

The Fort Qu'Appelle area had to be seen as "McDonald country." All the leading citizens, it seemed, belonged to that illustrious clan. "D.H.," who was elected in 1898 and again in 1902 to represent the Qu'Appelle constituency, had the longest furrows and the biggest herds in the region. What's more, he fancied horses and kept many, so signing on with him was sure to prove fortunate for the Harrisons. It turned out to benefit Roland in particular, who stayed on to become McDonald's tenant and right-hand man.

In time, the young men met more of the McDonalds, including the patriarch, Archibald, whose name would be forever associated with Fort Qu'Appelle, having presided at the post for more than forty years. Then there was J. A. McDonald, the leading buyer and shipper of livestock, whose dealings normally exceeded 2,000 head of cattle in an autumn shipping season. Late in 1899, the Indian Head Vidette reported that this McDonald drove horses from Fort Qu'Appelle to Edmonton for sale to would-be gold miners on their way to the Klondike, and later in the same season, McDonald and his partner, a man named Heubach, were said to be shipping a trainload of cattle from Qu'Appelle to Winnipeg, with "at least five trainloads more to ship in the course of a week or two."

Roland owed much to D. H. McDonald for experience and guidance, but Stanley took his inspiration from two quite different figures. One of them was the promising young horseman Raymond Dale, who later rated as one of Stockwell's "good neighbors." It was Dale's love for Thoroughbreds that aroused Stanley's interest and solidified his determination to own and raise horses of that breed. Dale, who at that time was laying the foundation for his horse-breeding operations, made his selections with admirable care. It should not escape Thoroughbred history that, in 1910, he shipped a two-year-old colt, Kel d'Or, to England to be trained for the Derby, of all things. And as a three year old, this farm-raised Thoroughbred really did race in the great English classic. Although it did not rate among the winners, it did give a good account of itself. Stanley Harrison, by that time a well-informed student of horses and horsemanship, followed the fortunes of both horse and owner with neighborly pride.