Grandfather and Dad were both sometime loggers. Both were employed in this profession at times when jobs were hard to come by and money was tight. But the job was a natural thing for them because of their respect of nature and interest in the forest. They were able to work at thinning a forest and at the same time manage it to help it become more healthy. Back in the day many smaller logging companies actually seemed to care about the land they cut upon, unlike today when large conglomerates clear cut and hack away.
When it came to Brookwood Grandfather made sure the forest was properly managed. Trees that were cut down were appropriately replaced with diverse trees of a type that were natural to the area and grew at different rates.
Grandfather later allowed other logging companies to come in and log on Brookwood, or to come through Brookwood to get to the site of their logging. But since it was his land he once again controlled the manner of cutting, what was cut, how it was replaced…..and the way in which those huge trucks tore through the forest. The trucks were capable of making a huge mess and causing a lot of damage if not controlled. We must have had good forests because even with those constraints there was still some logging at Brookwood. It was far enough from the cabin that one rarely saw them- you had to be in that area.
Grandfather bought a sawmill at some point. I have the feeling from what I have read in family records that the mill was already outdated before he bought it. I believe it must have been a hobby for him. Most milling jobs were for trade of one kind or another. In the 1960’s my Dad had tongue and groove pine paneling cut to finish the second floor of our home in Illinois. It may have been one of the last jobs turned out by the mill. Grandfather died in 1963.
Dad inherited the sawmill and the 40 acres on which it sat. We would go over occasionally on trips up, look over the mill, take a gander at the rusting Doodlebug and Dad and my brother would talk about restoring it, maybe fish in the Sauble River (on the banks of which the mill sat)…….just kick around a bit. The Sauble has great trout fishing! Then we would leave. I can remember being terrified to enter the sawmill because of the large wasps nests that inhabited it!
After Dad died my husband, myself, Brent (my brother) a friend and my husband’s brother went there for a weekend of rough camping. We had a blast! It was husband Lou’s first ever rough camping experience and he enjoyed it- and he learned a lot about camping out in nature. I can remember too Lou and his brother Jeff chasing a snake along the river bank and me having a fit. I knew that was probably a rat snake of some kind but I wasn’t very comfortable with them chasing a snake and trying to catch it when they didn’t know what it was!
Shortly after that my brother planned a camping trip to the forty…..and Mom informed him she had sold the property. It was sad to see the last of the Michigan property leave the family. I think she said she sold it to someone in the Tuckey family (the were related to us but we didn’t know them very well). Zahn Tuckey and his sons did not live far from the mill. And so the last of our piece of Michigan fell through our fingers.
Guest Post
Mike Reynolds
Darlene Reynolds
